Promise Not to Judge

"I think that's a good idea," he said.

It was a beige business-casual dress with a hidden back zipper. "Undo me?" I turned around, and felt his fingers clumsily unhook the clasp, then lower the zipper. I stood, pulling the dress over my shoulders and onto the floor, exposing my backside, clad in a white cotton thong. I turned back to show him my breasts in a white lace bra, and knelt back down. My eyelids fluttered. "Better?"

He was kneeling too, visibly aroused again. His face looked blissful. "Yes," was all he said, staring unabashedly at my cleavage.

"On your hands now, head down." I took the large sponge, dunking it in the soapy water, and squeezed it all over his back, suds sliding down his neck, his deltoids, his crack. I steadied myself with my left hand on his shoulder while making circular motions with the sponge, all over, along both of his buttocks, spreading them as I did, his pink butthole blossoming into view. My sponge drifted there, scrubbing . . . at first gently, then harder and harder till he moaned.

"You know you've got to keep this especially clean, right?" I said sweetly, prying it open with my other hand. "It can get so dirty." He nodded from his compromised position. "Okay, sit back up, time to wash your hair." I squirted the gel onto his head, rubbing it in to a nice lather, scratching at his scalp with my fingers. Then the conditioner, working it into his hair, then holding him down into the water, for ten seconds or so. He emerged with a big gasp for air, splashing water all over me. Surprised. I laughed delightedly, like a teenager.

"There!" I said proudly. "You look so squeaky clean!" He slid back down against the tub, knees popping out of the water. "I think that's everything." He looked at me forlornly. "Oh, did I forget something?" I pouted. He nodded.

"Ohhh, I think I know. We didn't clean your private parts, did we?"

"No, Aunt Heather," he said flatly. "We didn't."

I stroked his wet hair out of his eyes. "Well, let me just take care of that." I sat up and took a washcloth from the cabinet, and I laid it flat over his hard-as-ember cock, flat against his stomach. I wrapped both my hands around it, and moved it up and down like I was cleaning it on a washboard. After wringing out the cloth, I put it back it the hot water, cupping his balls with it, shifting them softly in my palm; I then took to rubbing him a bit harder with the cloth against his taint. His eyes were closed, his mouth open. A look of total tranquility.

I looked at myself in the mirror across from me as I worked. Reddish hair, green eyes, freckled skin. Large breasts, still shapely and perky, thanks (mostly) to genes, nipples visibly erect through the drenched white bra. Still had a fine stomach, still had a nice smile. The wrinkles barely showed. And a beautiful naked boy in my hands. I don't feel bad about this, I said to myself. This is a good thing.

"Let's see how we did! Stand up for me," I told him. He did so, his cock now inches from my lips. "Oh, baby doll," I said, as I took him in my hands by the back of his thighs. "You look good enough to eat."

I opened my mouth. Soapy, fleshy, a hint of salt. His wet hands touched my hair. My hands slid up to his ass. It was inside me, fully, for a moment — a wonderful moment.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God."

My eyes popped open. No, I thought, It can't be. But it was. I saw her reflection in the mirror, standing in the doorway.

She was dressed as sluttily as I've ever seen her: a white transparent mesh top, cut off at the midriff, over a red triangle bra with a white leather string; an impossibly short black leather skirt exposing damn near all of her legs; her bare feet highlighted with red toenail polish; she had her contacts in, a rarity, that made her eyes seem indigo, and uncharacteristically subdued makeup, that gave her the sexiest look; her hair was differently styled, falling about her face more naturally, more innocently. Coupled with her expression, a mix of disgust, disdain, amusement, victory, she was absolutely devastating. The power of her presence was indescribable. I could only grovel.

"Oh, oh, Jesus, honey . . . " I fell onto my hands, crawling toward her.

"Stay away from me!" she cursed. "I knew it! I knew something was up with you two!" Kayla began, pointing at us both.

"Honey, there is nothing . . . There was nothing . . . " I stopped. I stood up. Why was I groveling? I realized. She should be groveling to me! "And who the hell are you to accuse anyone of anything? I know what you've been doing to poor Bryan here!" I pointed at him with my thumb. Bryan looked stunned, standing in the tub water, covering himself with the washcloth. Kayla let loose a guffaw. I admit I wanted to. It was so absurd.

"And what have I been doing to poor Bryan?" she demanded superciliously, arms folded.

"You've . . . You've been using him! As your twisted sex toy!"

She doubled over with laughter. "Sex toy? Is that what you told her? Pathetic." Bryan looked as if he didn't know how to respond.

"He didn't have to," I spoke up. "He said you dress him up, like a little girl!"

"Yes, of which he is a most willing participant," she said, dripping with contempt. He didn't deny it.

"That's because . . . Because you've warped him! Admit it, this wasn't the first time you've done this to him, was it? And you photograph it?"

That sound — of derision, of superiority. "It's a job. I pay him a salary. And there's no sex involved. Jesus, are you seriously getting all moral on me right now?"

"Pay him? With what money?"

She smiled. "Well, since you ask . . . I have a . . . channel."

Now I was lost. "You have a what?"

"A channel. People pay to watch me and chat with me. I dress up and do Japanese-themed stuff in my room. They tip me when they really like it. It's a fetish thing."

"You're sick!" I said, not really believing what I was saying. And I was immediately sorry I said it, because I knew what was coming.

"Ha!" she crowed. "I'm sick? You have got to be joking. You're the one blowing your own nephew in the bathroom! You're the one jerking him off on my fucking bed!"

I froze. Bryan, he was as shocked as I was.

"Oh, yeah! I saw that. In fact, everyone did! I live stream my room overnight," I stared at her, not believing what I was hearing. She just shrugged. "Some guys like to watch me sleep. And I forgot to turn it off this morning, then I left to go buy us some breakfast, like a good cousin, when my messages started blowing up. Would you like to hear some of them?"

She took out her phone and started reading while my skin crawled. "'Wow, hot!' Here's a good one. "Who's the cougar? I like!' Hm, this one kinda bothered me: 'Since when was this a porn channel?' I guess I have to change my category now?"

I went stark white. I had nothing to say. She was right; I was wrong. I deserve everything I get, I thought.

Kayla shut her phone off. "The only reason I'm not angrier is because I made fifteen hundred bucks in tips in fifteen minutes thanks to you two."

"You . . . you made fifteen hundred bucks?" I asked. She nodded.

She smiled a bit. "It started as a hobby . . . I liked the attention: wearing CGDCT stuff, pigtails with kawaii underwear, that kind of thing. But since Bryan? It's been a whole other ballgame. Like, a whole other level! I just dress him up and dress him down, like a human doll — skirts, wigs, lingerie — and wow, the channel just exploded. People love it: guys, girls, trans, I get 'em all. I'm averaging three grand a week, and giving him thirty percent of it. Which is more than he deserves!" she delivered with venom.

I couldn't speak. "So you mean, you two, you never . . . "

"I mean, it crossed my mind," she said. "He's too cute," giggling at him now. "But I thought . . . I thought you'd never forgive me." I felt like the worst person in the world. What could I possibly say to her now?

"Three grand a week? I'm . . . impressed," I said.

Was she blushing? Was that the first nice thing I've said to her in months? "Thanks. What can I say? I'm an entrepreneur, just like my mom." We smiled at each other. I ran over and gave her a hug. We apologized, and cried a little, and hugged some more; and we promised each other that we would never fight again.

At about the same time, we remembered Bryan. He stood there: motionless, confused, skittish. We looked at each other in the mirror, shaking our heads. "Oh, Bryan," we said together.

"I can't help but feel," began Kayla, "that this is all his fault."

I sighed. "Did you know I caught him jerking off on the couch?"

"Aunt Heather!" he cried out. "You said that was our secret!"

Kayla belted out a laugh. "Speaking of secrets, I walked in on him wearing my underwear that first day," she said. I looked at her, mouth agape.

"You did?"

"I came home to find him looking in the mirror," she answered. "Rubbing himself through a pair of my blue silk panties. "

"Oh my god! Bryan! What's wrong with you?" He dropped his head low.

She shrugged. "That's how I . . . convinced him to join my channel," she said, putting her arm around me. "He needed to be taught a lesson, and someone once taught me that Shame is the best teacher."

Oh, my heart was bursting! For the first time ever, I wasn't worried about my little girl anymore.

"Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, what are we to do with you now?" I tsk-tsk-tsked, and then I handed Kayla a towel. "Here, dry him off. And don't miss a spot," I smiled. "Let's get him camera ready."

I must say, you're taking this story in stride rather well! I knew that if there was anyone who wouldn't judge me, it would be you. Life's too short, you know? And no one got hurt, not really; unless you count, well, never mind. Oh, it's nothing . . . I was just going to say . . . Oh, I guess I should tell you how it ended, huh?

I mean, we did have to teach him a lesson, didn't we? For what? Well, because of the . . . I mean, does it matter? He was letting us. That's enough of a reason, don't you think?

Kayla helped him out of the tub, and began rubbing his head with the towel, then his back. She stood behind him, wrapping him with it in a bear hug, turning him toward the mirror. "He's so adorable, isn't he, mom?"

"The cutest."

Kayla dropped to his legs, giving each one attention, before sliding the towel in between, working with both hands on either side. He lurched forward a bit as she entered his cheeks, mouth opening wide.

She wrapped her other hand around his penis. "This is . . . the first time I've actually touched it."

"Really?" I asked, "But I thought —"

"No, I just change him," she replied. "But I always wanted to. He gets so hard, I swear," she remarked, shaking her head in disbelief. "So hard and so big." I walked over, raising his chin up with my finger.

"He's a lucky boy . . . We're all so lucky, aren't we?" I smiled at him. He tried to smile back.

"What're . . . What're we gonna do?" he asked.

"Bryan, can I tell you something?" I said, as I put my hands on his shoulders, facing him. "I love you." Oh, he looked so precious when I said that! "We both love you, isn't that right?"

Kayla stood up, standing by my side, and put her arms around both of us. "Yeah," she said sweetly. "I love you too. Like really a lot."

"We do love you, and with love comes responsibility. I'm responsible for you, you know? I want you to become a real man someday. And real men don't go sneaking around masturbating. Real men don't wear pink panties. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," he said, voice cracking.

"But you like those things, don't you?"

His eyes watered and his lip shook. Oh I just had to kiss him then! I grabbed him by his face and just planted a big one on his lips, pulling him into me, his hard-on practically stabbing me in the navel.

Kayla stole him from me, kissing him as well, taking his cock back in her hand as she did.

"Oh, Bryan! It's okay! We still love you! And we're going to help you. So, what we'll do, we're going to humiliate you until you don't want those things, those immature kinks, anymore. Like making a kid smoke a whole pack of cigarettes," I winked. "And you'll grow up big and strong and manly, like a real woman would want. Isn't that right, Kayla?"

"I know we can do it. Together," she said, nodding, still stroking his cock.

"Take him to to your room, honey, and get him dressed." She blinked twice, and made a kiss at me.

Kayla led Bryan to her room, holding his cock the whole way. I changed out of my underwear and into a kimono I have — white, blue trim, and short, ending well above the knees — tying it loosely; I also put on a Noh mask I bought in Osaka — that of an angry samurai — and grabbed a case from the top shelf of my closet.

When I got to her room, Kayla was lying seductively on her queen-sized bed, already teasing her audience — playing with her hair, acting super-cutesy, laughing into her hand like they do in Japan — just as I had hoped. We were really in sync, for the first time in ages. The closet door was closed, Bryan inside. Kayla took one look at me and lit up like Times Square.

"Oh, that is amazing," she gushed, hands in a little prayer sign. "Say konichiwa everybody!" I heard the sound of cash registers coming from the laptop. They were tipping her already. Did you know people actually do this shit?

I sat on the bed, next to her, crossing my legs toward the camera, and bowed. "So, samurai-san, would you like to meet our special lady friend today?" I nodded. "Oh, I am so sure you will like her. Are you ready?" she yelled toward the closet. "Come on out, Michiru!"

In the closet doorway stood my nephew, dressed in what I knew to be Sailor Moon cosplay. Do you know what that is? He was wearing white flats with white stocking that ended mid-thigh, a white and green sailor dress with a short green skirt, and a big green tie bow on the back. He had a green necklace with a golden star in the middle, and white gloves on his hands with green trim. Atop his head sat a long lovely bright green wig, framing his gorgeous face just perfectly. I sighed behind the mask and baby clapped with my hands.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Kayla asked me. I nodded and made the "come hither" motion with my index finger, then patted the space on the bed between Kayla and me. He obliged, walking over with a little bounce and a vacant smile, not unpleasant, averting our gaze. While he climbed between us, on hands and knees, I checked out his butt in the mirror: his panties had a green and white striped pattern, with ruffles and frills, and little swords drawn on them. Oh, it was . . . it was all driving me wild!

I played with the curls of his green nylon hair from one side, while Kayla stroked his chin and kissed his cheek from the other. "So pretty pretty," she said. "Don't you all agree?" More cash register sounds. I could see us all, framed in the picture-in-picture on her screen — oh my gosh, we looked so . . . Ridiculous? Cinematic? Next to us scrolled typed responses from our fans, in English, Japanese, French, Italian. I was internet famous! And the comments . . . Some were ecstatic — some were frankly offensive! — some were asking for more.

"Ha! Arigato, Koji-san!" said Kayla after reading one of them. "Why, yes, I do. Would you like to see them?" She stood on her knees and lifted her skirt. "I've got a little black thong today!" she said, shifting from side to side. "Do you like them?" More cash registers. "Everyone, let's show them what we're wearing. You first, Michiru!" Bryan did the same. His penis, flaccid but swollen, pressed tightly against the lacy bottom. "Oh, I just love those. They are so perfect for you!" Cha-ching, cha-ching . . . my eyes bulged watching the money we were getting.

"Samurai-san? Would you like to show us your fundoshi?" I grinned, biting my lip so as not to laugh, and nodded. I knelt next to my nephew and undid the sash.

You know, you're always telling me how hot I am, and I never believe you. Honest! But as I opened the robe, slowly, I began to admire myself. My breasts, my hips, my legs. Look at this, I thought. Look at you, babe. You are smoking. And they didn't even know what was about to hit them.

I let the kimono fall completely open, and spread my legs. Out sprung a six-inch, fleshy dildo, glistening with oil, attached to a black harness.

Oh my god, your face! That was pretty much their reaction as well. It was too funny! Their eyes bugged out of their heads, especially Bryan's. I couldn't help but laugh, leaning against Bryan's shoulder. Bryan's mouth dropped, a gasp of incredulity bubbling out. Kayla fell to the bed, convulsing with laughter.

"Arienai!" she exclaimed. "Samurai-san! Looks like somebody's getting excited!" I nodded, stroking my piece; but then I realized that maybe she was talking about Bryan? His cock was growing before my eyes. Kayla covered her mouth and turned to the camera with wide eyes. "Oh my god, oh my god, I'm getting so wet!" Cha-ching, cha-ching. "I think I need help. Will one of you help me?" Cha-ching, cha-ching. "Michiru-chan," she said, taking Bryan by the hand. "Will you? Will you help me today?"

Bryan nodded slowly, still holding his skirt up, his hog now bursting from his tiny undies. Kayla unsnapped her skirt, casually tossing it behind the bed; she then adjusted the laptop slightly and lay on her back, taking her underwear from the band, pulling them off her rear end and up her legs, which were now straight in the air. She then spread her legs wide, opening herself to her cousin. Her little pussy was waxed completely bald, the color slightly darker than the rest of her soft white skin. Her slit was tight, symmetrical, with small bottom lips. It was just lovely; I was happy for her.

"Will you help to pleasure me, Michiru-chan?" He nodded eagerly. "Kiss me, right there." And she pointed daintily to her spot.

Bryan bent low, kissing at her waist first, holding her by the flesh on her sides. He slid down her body, mouth open, tongue out. "Ah!!" Kayla started abruptly. She had her hands in his wig, massaging his scalp. I stared at them on the screen, practically ogling them, as the tip jar steadily increased. Kayla's head began to jerk up off the bed, making the cutest little noises with her mouth. It sounded just like one of her hentai videos. Well, of course I've watched them!

I turned to watch them now, in front of me. It was the strangest sensation — my daughter in cosplay, my nephew in drag, locked together in sexual embrace. He sat on his knees, then shifted to all fours, his lacy bum practically right in my face. I took that as my cue.

First I leaned over to move the laptop, so I would be better in the shot, my boobs filling the screen as I did so; I then stood on the carpet right behind Bryan, guiding him gently to where I wanted; as he moved, Kayla followed suit. I looked at the screen. We were perfectly aligned. I flipped up his skirt casually and admired his butt, exaggerating my head movements for the camera; I took the sides of the cotton panties in between my fingers; I yanked them down as hard as I could.

Bryan came up for air, panting audibly, and tried to look back at me; Kayla grabbed his head and shoved it again between her thighs.

I took the dildo in my right hand and playfully bounced it off his left cheek; I began to draw with it, first side to side, then circles, around his anus, then a spiraling motion, until the tip rested snugly at the edge of his hole. I could feel him tensing as I held him by the thigh in my other hand, so I soothed him gently with my fingers, brushing lightly against his ball sack. I made a shushing sound I'm not sure he could hear.