Creeper Pass: A Cure for Depression

In a couple of hours, with breaks for tea and snacks, she found she had a decent first draft of her paper and felt confident that, with a little more time and editing she could turn it into something close to first rate.

Clark, for his part, had worked maniacally over his sketchbook. His face contorted with concentration and he seemed to be locked in a battle with the paper. Josie did not ask to see what he was working on. In fact, his first few attempts had ended in growls of displeasure, followed the sound of tearing and scrunching paper.

Josie looked up at him occasionally, unable to hide a hint of concern in her eyes, but she never asked if he was okay. People had been asking him that non-stop since he went to the hospital and he appreciated that she knew him well enough to realize it annoyed him more than anything.

Whatever frustrations he felt at his perceived rustiness, Josie could at least see an enlivening determination. Her plan had been even more successful than she could have hoped and Clark was showing parts of himself that had been dormant for months.

Glancing up at his gaunt, but handsome face, his eyes shadowed by a sweep of dark, freshly washed fringe, Josie felt a wash of tenderness pour over her. Only she knew her brother like this and if the rest of the world wrote him off as a creep and a perv, then it was their loss.

When at last he held up his sketch pad and looked between her and the drawing, Josie paused in her typing. For once he seemed satisfied with what he had done, because he put the pad down again without ripping up the image he had created.

"May I see it?" She asked, breaking the long silence.

Clark looked back at the drawing and narrowed his eyes. He hesitated a moment, sucking in his bottom lip while he considered her question. Finally, he gave the barest shrug before handing the sketch pad over. He looked away so that her eyes could not meet his.

"Oh, Clark" Josie sighed as she looked at the picture.

It certainly looked like her, there was no denying Clark's incredible ability to capture a likeness, but it was a side of her she had never seen before. Was this how he saw her? The face on the page was beautiful. It was not idealized, not really. It still captured the roundness of her face, but he had it made it suit her in a way her harsh self-critiques in the mirror never could. Even with the somber, work intent expression she had on her face, there seemed to be a light shining from within her.

"Do you like it?" He asked in a shy little boy's voice that Josie thought had faded away years ago.

She gave him her warmest smile before responding, "I love it. May I keep it?"

He fidgeted in his lap before nodding.

She handed back the book and, while he tore out the page to give to her she asked, "Is that really how you see me?"

Clark gave her a curious look, forcing her to ask, "What?"

"Josie," He said as he handed over the drawing, "That is exactly how you look." There was no arrogance in his statement, his artistic skills could not really be questioned, it was just a simple statement of fact.

"Really?" Even as she asked it she felt stupid for sounding so needy, "I mean, I know I do, you're an amazing artist, but I sometimes think it has only ever been you who sees me this way."

"And what way is that?"

"Beautiful."

Clark sighed deeply and shook his head, saying, "Josie, you are the most beautiful woman I know."

When she began to respond he held up a hand and continued, "I know you have changed a lot from what you used to look like, but I think you're letting mom mess with your head. You may have been cute when you were that scrawny teenage girl, but now you're a woman in your prime. They don't make them like you, Josie, you're one of a kind and you should be proud of your body. I mean, just look at me. I'm your brother, if there is anyone in the world who ought to be blind to your incredible attractiveness it should be me, but I never could help myself when I'm around you."

Josie smiled, feeling the tears returning to her eyes, but she willed them away. She looked down at her body. Despite what he said, she knew she was not perfect. She could stand to lose some weight, but maybe she wasn't as ugly as she thought. Maybe she wasn't ugly at all.

Squeezing her hands into fists and nibbling the dry skin on her lower lip, she spoke again, asking, "Would you like to draw... more of me?"

Clark nodded emphatically.

Still feeling a nervousness she could not shake, Josie was surprised to find that her hands barely shook as she took hold of the bottom of her top, just above her exposed stomach.

As she hoisted it up, her heavy breasts pulled up with the material, stretching upwards until the clinging fabric lost the battle with gravity and her huge tits tumbled out and bounced with solid emphasis on her chest.

Clark stared at them unblinking for a long moment, his tongue darting over his lips, before he snatched up his pencil and sketchpad and began to draw frantically again, his eyes intent on his sister's naked chest.

While he worked, Josie's carriage became more erect and she straightened her shoulders. She could feel her back taking the strain of her heavy mammaries, but for once the stretch of her back muscles felt good, like something she could be proud of.

It was difficult for her to concentrate, but she managed to read over and edit some of the typing she had just done before. She could at least use the spell checker and was careful to prevent her hands from obscuring Clark's view of her. Somehow, the more keenly he stared at her the more confident she felt in herself and the more she wanted to bare herself to him.

Clark finished his sketch quicker this time, he seemed to be finding his form again and ended with a dramatic flourish. Without having to ask, he stood and brought the sketch over to her, seeming not to notice the obvious erection in his shorts or the way Josie stared at it admiringly.

He turned the pad around and showed it to her. Josie actually smiled. The picture showed her as she was. Her breasts, given gravity's merciless attraction to any massive objects, hung lower than they probably should have for a young woman her age. Seated, as she was in the picture, there were even some rolls on her exposed stomach she might have wished were not there. But through Clark's deft touch she saw the beauty, how those creases and curves made her more real. Even the effects of gravity seemed to stem from the desire of something wanting to hold her closer.

She took the picture from Clark and held it up, for once feeling no shame at seeing her own naked body. Clark stood so close she could feel his heat. His hand was at his side, close to her bared breasts. He stared down at them and that hand began to twitch. Josie stopped her inspection of the picture and looked up at Clark through heavy lashes.

All she did was a glance off to the side, but it was communication enough to let him know he could proceed. His hand opened and paused over her swollen mound, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin. Josie looked up at him expectantly, willing him on. As he started to lean forward, his hand just brushing her skin with an electrically charged burst, there was a loud click from the front door behind him.

Clark leaped back in startelement and hastily shoved his hand into his pants and pulled his cock up, flattening it beneath his waistband. Josie too reacted in the same instant, fighting to contain her swaying tits as she yanked down her too-tight top.

Clark snatched the drawing out of her hands and quickly tore it up in front of her shocked face. He was just stuffing the pieces into his pocket when their mother stepped into the room.

She had a look of surprise on her face and, for a moment, Josie panicked that she had seen what they were doing before she came in. Josie's face burned red, but she made her best attempt to appear relaxed.

Clark had thrown himself back into his chair and already his demeanor had changed. His shoulders slumped again and that surly look had taken up residence on his face once more.

"Clark?" Their mother questioned, "You're out of your room?" It came out as a question rather than a statement.

Clark, already withdrawing back into himself, shrugged and looked away. His mother came forward in a rush and squatted before him, saying, "Oh Clark, Baby, it is so good to see you I was just popping in to check in on you, but I am so happy to see you out and about again."

Josie marveled at the sincerity of the woman's voice, as if she had not been trying every day since Clark first hit puberty to contain the embarrassment of her son within the confines of his room.

When she reached out to touch him, he flinched back and she sighed. Turning to Josie she began to ask, "How..." but quickly grew distracted as her eyes passed over her daughter. Instead, she asked, "Josie, what are you wearing?!"

Josie clenched her fists into tight balls that made her knuckles white. She could have killed the woman. To her mother, it was more important what her daughter wore, in the privacy of the home no less, than the emotional state of her recently suicidal son.

Josie's mother did not need to say anything more. Just that small sneer on her lean, elegant face was enough to make Josie feel hideous again.

Her mother sniffed and said, "I think you had better change into something a bit more appropriate, Josie. Girls your... size really should dress a bit more conservatively. Honestly, darling, I don't know what you were thinking. What if I had brought a friend home?"

Josie seethed, though her mother either did not notice it or chose to ignore it. Josie was about to stand up and stalk out of the room when Clark beat her to it.

He rudely shoved past their mother and half ran down the hall and up the stairs. They both heard his door slam shut and then they were left together in a heavy silence.

Her mother, clearly taken aback, turned to Josie who only scowled and shook her head. All the progress they had made this morning was ruined by this woman and her need to control everyone.

When her mother spotted the sketchpad, which Clark had used to cover up the first drawing he had done of Josie, she made to turn it over. But Josie stood up sharply and ripped it and the picture beneath it out from under the woman's hand. She could not say why, but somehow she knew having her mother look at Clark's drawing would taint it for her.

"Hey!" Her mother began, but Josie clutched the paper tight to her, using it to hide her exposed stomach from the cruel gaze of her mother.

"What is going on, Josie?" the woman demanded.

Josie felt her jaw grow stiff as she fought the anger she felt towards this woman. No one knew how to make another person feel inadequate with only a glance like her mother did.

"Just leave us alone, mother," She found herself saying, "For once in our lives just give us some space and let us breathe without you having some hurtful comment about how disappointed you are in us."

"Josie!" Her mother shot back, "You will not speak to me like that in my own house. If you have a problem with me then you can go back to college. Goodness knows you have been mooching off us for long enough."

"And who will look after Clark?"

"Josie, I am his mother, I am perfectly capable of caring for my own son."

"Oh please, you can't wait to get out of here. If I hadn't come home Clark would be left all alone. Who knows what he would do then?"

"Josie, I will not have you talk like that."

"Come on, mom. He's an embarrassment to you. You want to keep him drugged up and in his room all day. You think he's a freak, just like everyone else."

"Josie, your brother is very sick, he needs..."

"Maybe you're the sick one, Mom! Maybe your need to dominate and control every part of our lives, even what we think or how we look, is what's wrong."

"Josie!" her mother demanded, but Josie was already storming off. "Josie!" her mother shouted after her, but she too went up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door.

There was a long silence from downstairs, which Josie heard through the quiet sobs that had hit like a storm front as soon as her door closed. She doubted her mother would be crying. The ice in her veins would have to thaw out first.

Josie fought the urge to change her outfit or, at the very least, wrap her body in a towel. She hated the way her mother made her feel so diminished in her presence.

Finally, she heard the front door click shut, her mother was too contained to ever let emotion get the better of her. A pity the same could not be said for her children. Then the roar of her luxury sedan engine started and Josie felt a weight lifting off her as the sound of the car receded down the drive.

Josie sat and stewed in her anger for a long while, before she finally shook it off. She really ought to check on Clark.

But, when she got to his room and knocked softly before trying the doorknob, she found the door was locked.

"Clark?" She called softly and then, when there was no response, "Clark?"

Still, she was met with icy silence. Feeling as if his pain were hers she spoke, "Clark, I know you can hear me."

When there was still no response she placed her forehead to the cool wood and let out a long, slow breath. Softly, as if she could feel him sitting just the other side of the door, she said, "Don't let her get to you, Clark. You have to be stronger than that. You have me now. We can face this together. Clark?"

Silence.

Josie thought for a long moment. If she was going to bring him back again she was going to have to take things up a notch. The way he had responded to her earlier filled her with boldness.

She could get him back. She would get him back.

"Okay, Clark. I'm going to go put on a swimsuit and lay down by the pool." She nearly laughed at the idea, even yesterday the thought of doing that, even in their very private garden, would have horrified her. "My body hasn't seen the sun in years and, thanks to you I feel like I can finally face it again. Mom can go fuck herself." She hoped she sounded confident and that it would give him heart.

"Just remember, you still have the Pass. If you wanted to watch, or even come and join me outside... Perhaps we can pick up where we left off earlier?"

When there was still no sound, Josie turned and went back to her room. She pulled out her swimsuits and looked through them. She ruled out the bikinis immediately. Those had fitted her when she was rake-thin and had the chest to match. Her boobs would look like a pair of melons in a slingshot in one of those.

The only one that might fit was a one-piece she had bought when her mother had given her a one-year gym membership for her birthday last year. Josie had figured she might at least try swimming in the pool for some exercise. The resolution had lasted precisely one day.

She squeezed herself into it, feeling tightness as it pulled in her tummy and narrowed her waist. The suit was designed for training, not for tanning. It left her cleavage covered right up to her neck and forced great lumps of breast flesh to spill out of the wide armholes. Her ass fought its containment with similar vigour. The old her might have been repulsed and likened her current look to a lump of cookie dough forced under a rolling pin. But she took a quick moment to look herself over in the mirror and chose to see it as voluptuousness instead. She had to stop using her mother and her friends as the yardstick of what made women attractive. Clark was making her realise that a lot of men might actually appreciate the way she looked.

Wrapping a towel around her waist, she strode confidently downstairs, out the patio door and to the pool area. Looking up at the house she checked carefully to see which area Clark's window faced. Then, dragging a sun lounger across the flagstone paving, as loudly as she could, she lined it up so that, if Clarke did look out his window, he would be looking down directly at her.

From a bag she had hurriedly packed, Josie pulled out and donned a large pair of sunglasses. She tied her hair into a messy bun and then she hauled out a bottle of sunscreen. She began by applying it to her face and arms. Then she coated it thickly on her legs until they shone in the hot sun. Despite the annoyance her mother had caused, Josie was starting to feel pretty good again. She was just applying sunscreen to the back of her neck when she caught movement out of the top corner of her vision.

Expecting that her glasses would hide the movement of her eyes, she let her gaze drift up once more. She felt a dull ache deep in her core when she caught sight of the shadowy figure standing in Clark's window. She could not see his face, but she knew he was watching.

A little smile tugged at her lips. She had not completely lost him again after all. She still had a hook or two buried inside of him.

Now that she had his attention, she decided Clark needed a little kick to bring him back out of his seclusion.

She tugged at the stretchy straps of her suit, sliding her arms out of them and pulling the material down to midway down her breasts. She did not want the strange tan lines wearing the suit would give her. But, more than that, she also needed to remind her brother of why his life might be worth living after all.

The material of the one-piece constricted her extremely pliable tits. It indented them viciously, forcing the flesh to bulge out over it and wobble there precariously on the edge of exposure.

She began, slowly and with considerably more deliberation, to apply a thick layer of cream to her chest. She massaged it deep into the soft flesh and deeper into her cleavage than was necessary.

When she glanced up again, Clark was closer to the window. She could see his knuckles, the one part of him not in shadow, gripping the sill. Even though she could not see his eyes, she felt them on her, as hot as the sun itself.

She leaned back and sighed contentedly. Those fierce eyes, combined with the heat of the day, made her feel like she was melting into a sticky mess, the most affected area being between her girthy thighs.

Josie was suddenly unsure of what her own body was doing to her. Up until today, her libido had been as low as her opinion of herself. But every time she thought about the new reflection of herself she saw in her brother's eyes it seemed to peel away another layer. It left her feeling so raw and exposed. It was uncomfortable and she desperately needed some kind of relief.

Josie lay like that for a while, feeling the heat building up in her loins as she stretched out beneath the combined gaze of Clark and the Sun. Any time she looked up, she saw Clark in his window.

She bent her legs and let her thighs fall apart. The faint, cool breeze that wafted over her heated-up pussy, made her moan softly. Placing her hands on each pale inner thigh she let them weigh her legs down a little. When she pushed up with her pelvis it stretched something deep inside of her.

Not entirely sure what came over her, Josie found herself fighting the urge to writhe on the sun lounger. Knowing that Clark was watching her made her want to perform for him. She wished she could see his eyes.

Her left hand was sliding up and down her thigh now, each time getting closer and closer to her lycra covered mound. When her hand bumped it accidentally she groaned and rolled her hips. Outside and with an audience, her body felt like every nerve ending was smoldering, just a few degrees below the point of ignition.

She stroked long and slow with the backs of her hands across the broad expanse of soft skin. Then she reached up and cupped a full breast, kneading the firm flesh beneath the suit. Everything she did felt so good. She needed more.