Prone and creeping up on an enemy position, I silently willed my unwitting adversary to remain complacent for a moment longer so I could...


"What the fuck? Amy! What?" I said, turning to see my twin sister standing at my bedroom door.

"Don't get all twisted. I tried calling you like, five times. It's not my fault you can't hear with your headphones on," she shot back, looking unremorseful.

"Great! I'm dead. Are you happy?" I huffed, throwing my hands in the air.

I took my online gaming seriously, even if it was mainly against sugar enhanced middle school students. My friend Greg was laughing in my headphones

"You so got owned like a noob!" he whooped in my ear.

"Shut up Greg. Hold on a sec," I said, turning to face my sister.

"What do you need Ames?" I asked, expectantly.

The only time Amy showed up at my door and actually respected my space was when she needed something. That something was usually money.

"Could you loan me fifty bucks?" she said in her customary submissive voice.

Amy and I have a normal, healthy relationship for two twenty-two year olds still living with their parents. Well rehearsed give and take, with the odd dust up, but lately Amy was taking more than giving.

"No, I don't think so," I replied neatly.

"Aw, come on. I don't have time to argue. Jessica's picking me up any minute," Amy whined back.

Jessica and Amy had been best friends from the moment they met, and Jessica was pretty much a second sister to me as a result.

The girls actually looked so much alike, same height, same pilates sculpted bodies with generous b-cup breasts and such remarkably similar features; they were constantly mistaken for sisters.

"You already owe me a hundred and twenty," I answered.

"I'll pay you back next week when I get paid. I promise," she pleaded.

"She owes you one twenty?" Greg sounded in my ear.

"I'd be asking her to blow me if she owed me that much," he chuckled.

"Shut up Greg," I muttered in to the headset, though he had a point.

"Please Matt? You know I can't ask mom and dad for money. You're my only hope," she said, smirking at the corny Star Wars reference.

Dad was overseas on business and mom was visiting our aunt for the weekend, so it was true that I was indeed her only option.

Smiling at her jape, I asked, "What's in it for me? I was planning to buy a pizza. I don't have enough for both."

"What do you want? I'll do anything," Amy countered as her cell phone chirped.

"I want to see you naked," I said on a whim grinning.

"Fuck off. I'm not doing that," she scoffed, trying to choke back a laugh.

We stared at each with playful grins, neither of us quite sure where this was heading.

"Yeah, Matty! That's what I'm talking about," Greg yelled in my ear.

I had forgotten Greg was still able to hear our conversation. With a quick tap of a key, the connection was cut.

"Come on Matt. You know I'm not going to show you anything. I promise I'll pay you back," Amy said, blushing.

"No, I think I like the idea of you, for once, giving me something for my generosity. Your choice," I finished looking her straight in the eyes.

Amy's cell phone chirped again.

"Alright. Fuck!" she said stamping her foot. "But, not now. When I get home, okay?"

I had no real intention of collecting. I just wanted to let Amy squirm a little when she showed up trying to back out later.

"Okay. Here you go. Fifty dollars," I said, holding out two twenties and a ten.

"I guess I'll see you later?" I smirked.

Amy reached out and sheepishly took the money, looking very uncertain about what had just transpired.

"Have fun...and say hi to Jess," I called after her as she disappeared out of sight.

Turning back to my laptop, I slipped the headphones back in place, punched the keyboard and picked up where I left off with Greg pestering me for details.

The hours between my last parting words and the sound of a key fumbling at the front door passed surprisingly quickly.

I had finished playing a few hours ago and at nearly two in the morning, had settled for a latest download and the odd porn site.

"Matty! I'm home. You better be up or you're going to miss out," Amy sang out.

"Oh, Matty. There you are," she said, poking her head around my door, shoes in hand.

"Did you have a good time?" I asked, quickly assessing that Amy was beyond fun.

"I had a great night. Jessica and me danced our asses off," she said, giving me a quick sample of her moves before stumbling and dropping her shoes.

"Oops. I think I'm a little bit drunk," Amy slurred as she righted herself.

"Yeah, I think you might be," I concurred sarcastically.

"Well, I'm ready to do it. I'm ready to get...NAKED!" Amy exclaimed.

"Really?" I asked, surprised by her enthusiasm.

"Well, I said I would...and Jessica said that she thought it would be sooo hot. She thinks you're cute," she explained, looking less than focused.

"Plus she dared me so, I can't not do it now," Amy exhaled, reaching for the zip on her dress.

I watched in stunned silence as Amy's little, black dress crumpled in a heap at her feet. A simple, matching black bra and thong hugged her figure perfectly, defining her toned curves.

It took but an instant for Amy to unclip her bra and toss it aside.

Her thong proved to be a little tricky for my dexterously inhibited sister. To steady herself, Amy reached out and grabbed my shoulder, as she kicked away her thong.

"Okay. I did it. What do you think?" she asked, the alcohol obviously freeing her from any inhibitions.

"I think Jessica was right. This is hot. You're hot," I answered, staring at Amy's breasts.

"Take a picture. It lasts longer," Amy giggled.

"Sorry. I'm just a little..." I stammered.

Amy, ignoring my rambling, leaned over and with surprising grace, plucked my iPhone up off my desk.

Standing back, she punched the screen.

"What's your password?" she asked coyly.

"Five, five, one, one," I replied blankly.

It took two attempts, but Amy soon navigated her way to the camera mode.

Holding the phone at arm's length, she began snapping shots of herself. First, Amy focused on her pert, twin peaks, then round the back, centering her butt in shot, finally taking a few pictures of her sparsely covered sex.

"That should do it," she slurred, tossing the phone in to my lap.

Smiling proudly at me, then through me, Amy turned and started walking toward my bed.

"Why don't you take a few shots? If you want to," she suggested over her shoulder.

"You sure?" I asked in disbelief, all the while wondering just how much Amy had had to drink.

"Mmm hmm," Amy replied, as I aimed the phone at her silhouette and hit the record button.

Amy crawled on to my bed, and looked back with a glassy eyed grin.

"How does this look? Sexy? I think I have a great butt, don't you?" she asked, pausing to wait for an answer.

"You definitely have a fantastic butt. I've always loved your butt," I admitted, zooming in on Amy's downy lips.

"You know, Jessica thinks I have a great butt too. She loves butts. And she loves sticking stuff in hers, but I didn't tell you that," Amy giggled.

"Do you want to know a secret?" she asked, whispering.

I nodded, panning out to record the wickedly cute look on Amy's face.

"I really like it too, but ssshhh," Amy confided, grinning with a finger to her lips.

My subsequent expression turned Amy's grin in to brilliant smile.

"Do you want to know something else? Jessica and I dare each other to do stuff," she said, not making a great deal of sense to me.

"The pictures were so funny when I had to stick a carrot up my butt," Amy laughed, flopping on her back.

"Oh, are you still taking pictures?" she asked, noticing I still had the phone in my hand.

"Is it okay? I can stop..." I suggested, but Amy shook her head.

"No, no, no. Jessica said I agreed to let you see me naked so, I should let you look until you are satisfied and obviously you aren't," Amy answered.

"So, you told Jessica about this, huh?" I asked.

"I tell Jessica everything. We have no secrets except the ones we share," Amy answered simply.

"Did you tell Greg?" she asked, her face darkening for the first time since she entered.

"Fuck no!" I exclaimed.

"He's a dick. He'd never keep his mouth shut. I told him you told me to go fuck myself again and left without the money," I replied, embellishing the actual conversation I had with Greg.

Amy's face brightened again.

"That's good. He's creepy," she said, looking like she swallowed a bug.

I checked the time counter on my phone and discovered I had nearly ten minutes of footage. Standing at the foot of my bed, Amy waved at the phone.

"Hey, Matt. Do you think I'd make a good porn-star?" she asked as she spread her legs and pushed her breasts together.

"Fuck, yeah!" I choked out, stunned by the sight of Amy baring her all.

All of a sudden, Amy grabbed her head.

"The room's spinning," she whimpered, her eyes wide with fear.

"Oh, fuuuck. I think I'm going to be sick," Amy blurted, trying to get to her feet.

"It's okay. I'm here. Take this," I said, quickly handing Amy my small trash can from under my desk.

"Go ahead. Throw up in that," I urged her.

"I think I need the bathroom," Amy wept, clutching her stomach, trying to stop it from turning over.

"It's okay Ames. I'll help you, just let it out. Better out than in," I assured her.

For the better part of an hour, Amy spent the majority of time crying and retching up the contents of her stomach, while I rubbed her back and kept her hair free of vomit.

Eventually, Amy's system satisfied that it could rid itself of no more toxins, eased up and let me help her in to her pajamas and then in to bed.

"Thanks Matt," Amy croaked just before she closed her eyes and surrendered to her exhaustion.

Feeling every part the protective brother, I sat at the edge of Amy's bed and stroked her hair.

Leaving a towel beside her, just in case, I headed for the bathroom to sanitize the toilet and surrounding splash zone.

Five minutes later, smelling of bleach and pine needles, I looked in on Amy and then wandered back to my room spent.

Seeing Amy's dress and underwear by my desk brought my wary mind back in to sharp focus.

My iPhone lay dark in the folds of my duvet.

I stared at it for a moment, a grin swelling across my face, as my carnal instincts pushed their way to the fore.

"Okay. Interesting," I said to myself, pressing my forefingers together over my mouth.

In a way, I felt a little intimidated by the enormity of the contents of my iPhone's memory.

Even though I knew Amy would be out cold until at least sun-up, I quietly closed my bedroom door before picking the phone up.

Plugging the phone in to its cradle, I triggered the synchronization sequence to upload the new video and pictures to my laptop.

The process complete, I sat down and exhaled, "Let's see what fifty dollars buys."

Browsing the promising collection of thumbnails was tempting and certainly sent blood rushing south, but I was of a single mind. I had to watch Amy's performance again.

The iPhone had assigned the video file such an innocently generic name that I skipped over it on first glance. Quickly realizing my error, I clicked the file and the screen filled with the familiar memory of Amy climbing on to my bed.

Settling back, I slid my hand down in to my sweat pants and slowly stroked my full erection.

"Jess was right. This is hot," I said softly.

I knew then that I would forever view Amy not only as my sibling, but as a sexy, desirable, sexual woman.

A part of my mind still wrestled with the new paradigm, but for the most part, I figured, too late now.

Pacing my excitement, I unexpectedly heard something that had not registered at the time I was videographer, but made me sit up now.

A quick click and Amy repeated the words that piqued my attention.

"The pictures were so funny when I had to stick a carrot up my butt."

Pictures. There were pictures of my sweet sister with a carrot poking out of her butt.

For as long as I could recall, Amy and I had always respected each other's privacy, but the instant I comprehended her words, I knew what I was going to do. I was going to find those pictures.

Letting the video play out, I climaxed as Amy struck her porn-starlet pose.

Cumming in to a sock I had left earlier in anticipation of this event, I tossed the sock in with my other dirty laundry and crawled in to bed.

Giving myself one last satisfied smile, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.


Daylight streamed through my window gently waking me the next morning. Opening an eye, I spied that it was a little after eleven.

The house was silent, a good sign that Amy was still resting after her ordeal.

Sweeping the duvet to one side and my legs to the other, I looked first to the pair of heels and then to small heap of black fabric Amy had shed and considered my options.

Did I want to have Amy find them in my room, or deliver her lost property as if she had never been here in the first place?

Judging Amy's probable state last night, I thought it was more than likely she would have very little recollection of what had transpired. Based on that hypothesis, I scooped up the evidence with the intent of further blurring what would already be a vague recount.

Amy was snoring as I fabricated what I thought would be a good approximation of her undressing drunk.

Taking one last moment to admire my artistry, I started toward the kitchen to quiet my growling hunger.

A muffled beep rang out from Amy's handbag on the kitchen bench. Intrigued, I rifled the bag retrieving her iPhone.

The display signaled it was apparently time for Amy to get up. Knowing Amy's usual brand of hangover, I hesitated to deliver the news having played "the messenger" baring bad tidings once before.

In the end, my curiosity of Amy's first reaction sent me carrying the bleating device to its owner.

Standing at her door, I tossed the iPhone like a live grenade and watched.

"Ungh...ahhh! Turn it off!" Amy shouted in to her pillow.

"Sorry. It's your phone," I replied.

"What?" she whined, turning her head to face me.

"It's your phone. You set the alarm," I informed her.

"Can you pass it to me?" Amy muttered.

Stepping in, I picked up her phone and held it out to her.

"What time is it?" Amy asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Half past eleven," I replied as she took the phone.

"I feel like complete crap. My head is killing me. Oh, nooo. I don't want to go to work today," she groaned, looking at her phone.

"I'm not surprised. You were puh-luted last night," I grinned.

"You think, genius?!? I barely remember how I got home," she bit back.

"It's Jessica's fault. She had us all doing shots of tequila. Never again," Amy winced, massaging her temples.

Looking at her clothes strewn about the room, Amy sat up ready to start what would probably be a hideous day.

"Do you want coffee?" I offered, turning to leave.

"I don't think I'm up to that yet," she replied, "maybe after I have a shower I'll feel human."

"Good call," I agreed taking my leave.

Making my way back to my bedroom, I felt electrified. What would happen next? For all intensive purposes, Amy seemed to have no idea what had happened bare hours ago.

Surely she could not be completely clueless?

It was not important right now. What was important was that Amy was about to have a shower. Now was the opportunity to put my plan in to action.

Like me, Amy exercised good security with regard to her personal information, meaning, she always used a passworded screen-saver on her laptop.

The Achilles' heel of this method of protection is that it leaves a potential window for someone else to disable the password element without the owner's knowledge if they don't set the screen-saver off as soon as they walk off.

Like me, her first call would be to log on and check for messages. All I had to do was wait until Amy was in the shower, and then sneak in to her room and change the setting.

It wasn't long before I heard the shower come to life, followed soon after by the familiar sounds of someone bathing.

Stealing my nerves, I whispered, "Game on."

The whole mission took less than a minute, even with my shaky hands.

Retreating to the kitchen, I sat down and wondered if I was insane.

Like a watched kettle, it seemed as if time had stopped waiting for Amy. In actuality, only twenty minutes had elapsed when the sound of her heels clacked up the hardwood hallway.

"How you feeling?" I asked, trying to be my normal self.

"Oh, pretty crappy. I've loaded up on Advil so I'm feeling less pain. Still can't look at food though," Amy said smiling weakly.

"Matt, what are you doing today?" she asked.

"No plans," I lied, trying not to grin.

"Could you give me a lift to work?" Amy asked looking hopeful.

"Okay. When?" I replied.

"Five minutes. Just let me do my hair," she said plainly relieved.

"Meet you at the car," I advised, rising to don the acceptable bare minimum of clothes.

Amy looked surprisingly fresh when she emerged from the house.

"I'm impressed," I said as Amy fastened her seatbelt.

"'I'm not. I look like crap! I thought about calling in sick, but I need the money," she said.

"Besides, I'm not going out tonight. Jessica's flying out with her parents to see their relatives today so I'll just crash when I get home," Amy rationalized.

"How long is Jess going for?" I asked starting the car.

"Two weeks. Last night was like a sort of farewell party," she replied.

"You guys partied hard, huh? I don't think I've ever seen you that drunk," I remarked.

"We don't normally do shots. I don't like getting drunk, and I hate throwing up half the night," Amy admitted bitterly.

"Thanks for looking after me. I don't remember much, but I remember you rubbing my back while I was sick," she said looking down at her lap.

"You'd do it for me, right? But you owe me for cleaning the bathroom," I teased.

"Thanks Matt," she smiled back, genuinely grateful, as we pulled up at the mall.

"Do you need me to pick you up?" I asked.

"No, I can get a ride home. Thanks for driving me. See you later," she replied shutting the door.

"No problem Ames. Just call if you change your mind," I called out the window as I pulled away.


It would be fair to say that I pushed the speed limit in my eagerness to return to what I hoped was a successful plan.

Breathless after sprinting to the front door, I slotted the key and stepped across the threshold.

Stopping by my desk to retrieve a memory stick, I strode toward Amy's bedroom.

Amy had a funny, little cartoon character dancing around her screen when it wasn't in use.

Subconsciously, I held my breath as I bumped the mouse.

For a moment, nothing happened, but then, just as planned, Amy's desktop appeared.

"Sweet!" I exclaimed.

Quickly finding a seat, I grasped the digital rodent and brought up a search window.

"Okay. We are looking for a picture containing a carrot. Let's start with a simple search of all images files," I reasoned aloud.

Releasing the search across Amy's hard drives produced several hundred possibilities across too many locations.

Not relishing the idea of combing through a haystack for a needle, I tried my second logical bet.

"Okay. Let's look for the word carrot," I mused keying the word in to the appropriate field.

Maneuvering the pointer back over the "search" button, I clicked and set the request in motion.

Who knew Amy was a foodie. A few dozen file addresses appeared, all purporting to have something to do with carrots. It was sobering scrolling down the list of culinary references until a word popped out in one of the lines of text; "dare".

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