Pump Up The Fam Pt. 02

"Really? Come to think of it, some of the tracks in your mix didn't feel... as invigorating as others." He mused. In fact, some of them made him downright uncomfortable. "Do you think it has something to do with the lyrics--like subliminal messages--or the sonic vibration?"

Taylor lazily adjusted her phenomenal cleavage and stretched for the stream. Clive's cock leaped at the view of so much untamed beauty. His hand motions quickened.

"No idea, but each playlist is different. Mom gave me my 'Buns and Guns' so I could get ripped. I don't feel sleepy or trance when I work out." Emily turned with an extra-large green jumpsuit in her hands. "I think this should fit you, but--Oooh!"

Clive didn't bother glancing her way or slowing his pumping fist. "Get over here, baby sister. I'll have another load ready for you soon."

Her gasp turned into a tinkling laugh as she threw the clothing onto her bed, skipped over to hug him from behind, and peeked over his shoulder. Emily's body was a masterpiece of hard muscle and soft womanly curves that pressed into Clive. Her fingers danced down his broad chest and eight-pack to join him in jacking off.

"Guess you like what you see, huh, big bro?" She teased, licking his neck. "Taylor can be a self-righteous cunt, but even I think she's drop-dead gorgeous. Do you want to fuck her too? Are you going to conquer your arrogant big sister's cunt?"

"Fuck yeah, I am." He growled, "Gonna collect both my sexy sibling's asses to bounce on my giant dick. Gotta fuck babies into both of you."

Clive was beginning to feel aggressive again and only then noticed he could hear a thudding beat drifting up from the backyard. Taylor had a portable speaker beside his laptop, and it vibrated the small table with her special brand of music.

That was interesting. His heart rate was rising, yet the source of the sound was quite distant. Was it similar to a contact high? A secondhand side effect due to their proximity?

"God, it makes me so fucking wet when I imagine you railing that haughty bitch, bro." Emily moaned, rubbing herself against his back as her nimble hands slid along his obscene length. "I want it so badly. To be there when you dominate her entitled snatch and show her what a real man can do."

She wasn't lying. Clive could feel his little sister's damp excitement as she ground her mighty hips onto his bare buttocks. The negligible running shorts were likely ruined forever by now.

"We'll need a plan," He chuffed. Sweat and arousal prickled his skin. Below them, Taylor had rolled over to tan her back, and there was a deceptively feral grace to her movements that hinted at a true predator. "I can see that now, she's stronger than she looks and fucking dangerous. We'd make a perfect breeding pair."

His oblivious older sister reached back and absently adjusted the yellow thong flossing the copper cheeks of her exceptional rear. The minuscule bikini bottoms were practically non-existent from his angle, leaving two sun-kissed globes of ripe flesh out on tour.

Follower donation notifications were scrolling across the laptop screen at a flickering pace, but she ignored them completely and checked her phone. Clive's spurting precum was streaming down the curtains as he watched the show.

"You'll still breed me too, right? You wouldn't forget your loving little sister, would you, big bro?" Emily whined, jerking him faster. Her knuckles were coated in his free-flowing seed. "You can fuck both of us, and we'll raise your alpha babies together like one big, happy family. Promise that you'll keep pounding my bratty pussy, please?"

"Always."

With that one simple word, Clive craned his neck back and met her moaning lips with his own. Their kiss was torrid, tongues wrestling heatedly as they drank in each other's passion. He ran his hands through his sister's shiny white-gold hair, palming her pretty skull as they deepened their forbidden lust and desire.

The spark lit a fuse that burned down to its explosive end almost immediately. They shook together through an earth-shaking release, clinging to one another as Emily's pussy juiced and Clive repainted the wall, window, and drapes with his abundant spunk.

A short eternity later, when it was finally over and their lips were bruised from making out, they grinned wickedly, sharing a knowing look.

"Thanks, big bro." Emily breathed with love hearts in her brilliant cobalt eyes. "Do this for us, and I'll make you the happiest man alive."

"You're doing a great job of that already," Clive whispered, pecking her on the nose. "I'm still pretty hard though. How about you take off those useless shorts, climb onto the bed and--"

"What the fuck? Emily, get your fat ass out here!"

Taylor's furious scream rang from outside with all the shrillness of a banshee. The bedroom window was fairly fogged up and, well, obfuscated with roped of cum, but they could just make out the bleary outline of their beguiling older sister glaring intently down at her phone.

"Hold that thought, bro. Let me check on the queen bitch, then I'll be right back."

________________

Over an hour later, Clive was stuffed into the ugly green jumpsuit and frowning at the OnlyFans video on Emily's phone, comments spamming the chat in the sidebar.

"Didn't know you had an OnlyFans account, Em." He said, watching the poorly captured video of him blasting the last of his epic load across her face again. "Wow, would you look at those numbers rising... you get paid for each view?"

It wasn't too bad. Her mega-stacked chest was well-framed around his ribald shaft, with a few cum-spewing inches poking out the top. Her overjoyed expression was... charming, if fairly gloopy, by the end of the video.

"More like they pay to subscribe to my profile then can watch as many times as they wish," Emily explained, leafing through a sheath of papers. "But I linked it to a teaser trailer on my TikTok, and now my membership figures are going through the roof. That and the Instagram photos are what has Taylor so pissed."

To hear her tell it, their older sister summoned Emily down to the pool to grill her over those same Instagram photos--namely, the one where she measured Clive's heroic manhood against her face.

It appeared that the stuck-up stream queen didn't like sharing the spotlight and had been searching for some camera-friendly cock for some time to spice up her online performance. She had leveraged begrudging compliments and thinly veiled threats at her younger sibling to pry out the owner's identity, only to receive the vaguest of details in return.

In a masterstroke of genius, Emily had stood her ground and offered to act as an agent for the mystery hunk. A helpful go-between as they haggled over the terms for an on-stream appearance that would leave everyone enriched and--she swore up and down--immensely satisfied.

"Jesus, you should have seen her, bro. She was practically foaming at the mouth and on the verge of creaming her swimsuit bottoms by the time we were done." The mischievous blonde giggled. "One of her simps sent some skimpy costumes a while back and pledged a ludicrous amount of money to watch her fuck while wearing them. Taylor's been dying to cash in but couldn't find a guy she could tolerate touching her. There's a script and everything. Here, have a read."

She handed Clive the sheath of papers, and he began leafing through them.

It was a fairly intense dominatrix fantasy. The superhero theme was intriguing, but the demeaning dialogue and the... crotch-stomping were simply not going to happen.

"Yeah, I'm not doing any of that." He said, chucking the paperwork away with a grimace. They fluttered to the carpet in a cloud of rustling pages. "We're going to find another way to swing this in our favor."

Emily looked worried, twisting her fingers into knots. "There are advantages to the script idea. The villain mask will cover your face, and she won't recognize your new body. It's the easiest approach we're going to get. Especially since Taylor is still more than a match for both of us and ruthless as hell."

"Who said I wanted easy?" Clive grunted, pulling her into his lap. The ruined running shorts had been discarded for a pair of silver booty pants that hugged her thick ass like a lover. "I will earn my victories, baby sis. So I can relish them all the better when they are truly mine."

"Oh god, yes." She whimpered, automatically sandwiching his ever-present bulge between her squeezing buttcheeks and gyrating those luscious hips. "Tell me what you want, big bro. I'll do anything you ask."

"I want you..." He whispered lustily into her ear.

"Yes, fuck yes!" Emily pressed her huge bra-clad tits into his chest.

"...to go fetch my headphones. They're on my bedside table."

________________

Now lick my boot clean, slave.

I want to see the leather shine.

"Urg, no. Mark down track seven as a dud." Clive spat in disgust, pulling the headphones off his head. "I used to enjoy hardcore house music, you know, but a lot of this is femdom-focused trash. What's the tally so far?"

Emily checked her notes. She had pouted for longer than his teasing probably merited, but she was again back in full scheming mode.

"Two positive reactions and five negative." The buxom blonde reported. "I did warn you that Mom customized each playlist for specific results. She takes her new business very seriously, and Taylor's become very hostile towards men lately."

Small wonder when she was listening to the belligerent rubbish pouring out of the speaker in the backyard. Clive scrubbed his sandy hair in frustration.

His wireless headphones remained synced with his stolen laptop. Still, the plan to hijack her specific brand of motivational music--as he had done Emily's--was hitting some major speedbumps. Mainly because very few of the heavy doof-doof beats resonated with him on a physical level.

"Is that normal after listening to this weird music? She used to hang around plenty of guys. Surely, she was dating some of them. " Clive tried to recall his sister's friends from before all the present insanity. She'd been a social butterfly and fairly popular, but had she ever mentioned a boyfriend? "What about the football player she went to prom with? He was nice. Dean... Dennis..."

"Dale," Emily informed him. "They only went as friends, and he moved to Fort Worth after graduation. No confirmed relationships with either gender. You wanna know a secret?"

She leaned in to whisper, giving him a spectacular view of her thick cleavage all but spilling from her white sports bra. "I think she might be a virgin."

"No fucking way!"

"Uh huh, she never brings anyone home, and it has only got worse since no male is worthy of her divine beauty anymore," Emily said the last part mockingly, turning her nose up and breaking into girlish laughter. "But she must be going crazy under that ice queen exterior. Nearly all the songs on our playlists are about sex."

"But she's so damn sexy--like supernova levels of hot." Clive had to restrain himself from rushing to the window again and staring in disbelief. "You're telling me that an ass like that is completely untapped? What a fucking waste!"

"Yup! Are you reconsidering following the script now, big bro? We only have a few hours until filming, and the option is still on the table."

"No, but now I definitely need to claim that prissy pussy." He put the headphones back on with renewed resolve. "Tell me more about the costumes..."

________________

"This isn't as bad as I expected." Clive mused, striking a menacing pose in the closet mirror. "I thought it would just be a onesie or some cheap Halloween bullshit."

His villain outfit was actually of decent make and quality. The base pattern of the well-tailored fabric was the black and white horizontal stripes of a classic cartoon burglar on the long-sleeved top, andnug black trousers with dark plates of fake armor running down the legs were tucked into combat boots.

Whether by design or simply as a result of his imposing physique, the costume was form-fitting, and Clive played with the high-tech-looking gauntlets that covered his hands past his wrists, blinking with neon LEDs.

He had anticipated wearing a stupid cape and embarrassing tights with the underwear on the outside.

"You look hotter than hell's pepper patch, big bro!" Emily gushed, hopping in excitement, wearing her own villainess regalia. "Quick, put on the mask before I cream myself."

The aforementioned mask was more like a futuristic half-helm, covering his skull and the upper half of his face in black rubberized material with more flashing lights and eye holes for him to see through.

With a gentle flex that stressed the costume stitching, Clive had to admit he cut a sinister figure.

"You don't look too bad yourself." He turned to his younger sibling, ravishing her with a hungry gaze. "Where'd you get your threads?"

Emily preened like a peacock beside him, her powerfully built body garbed in a sleek blood-red leotard, thigh-high leather boots, and a black bandit mask secured over her eyes. The costume conformed like a second skin to every round curve and flat line of her robust form, with a boob window stretched wide enough to swallow a man's head, exposing her gratuitous bosom.

Her lengthy white-gold hair was tied up in two glossy pigtails flowing from either side of her head. Clive yearned to grab them like handlebars and shove his stiffening manhood down her ecstatic throat.

But that would have to wait for later.

"This silly thing?" She teased, twirling on tippy toes so he could appreciate the whole show. "Taylor's paypig putz sent her a few different options, and I stole this one, given the roles we are playing. Wait until you see her slutty getup. You're gonna bust a nut!"

"That's the idea."

"Emily!" Taylor's voice screeched from downstairs. "Your guy better be in costume and ready in five minutes, or I'm coming up there to beat both of your asses!"

Clive smirked, and Emily mirrored it with a cheeky grin.

"That's our cue. Go pound that bossy cunt, big bro."

________________

They wandered together into the sprawling den at the back of the house.

It was an airy open space with a few loveseats and comfortable sofas surrounding a conversation pit recessed into the center of the carpeted floor. The French doors leading to the back patio were folded back, letting in the warm afternoon light, and the stereo system was already playing Taylor's soundtrack.

The boys all want me,

And I take their money,

They ain't got no sack,

Addicted to my crack.

Clive grimaced. The music just sounded... wrong. Then his eyes fell on Taylor, fiddling with the webcam on its tripod, and despite the off-putting feelings the truculent lyrics stirred, his manhood immediately perked up.

Taylor was dressed like a post-apocalyptic warrior woman straight out of a Mad Max movie.

Her CrossFit goddess body was swathed in a provocative mix of studded black leather and chains, with segments of polished steel riveted over strategic places on her knock-out figure. As embellished as the outfit was, it didn't cover much of her tanned skin, exposing miles of smooth feminine muscle and hugging that million-dollar rump like a glove.

Her wavy golden hair was tied up in a strict librarian bun, leaving her slender shoulders and neck on display, and heeled gladiator sandals were laced up her shapely calves. When she turned to glare at them, Clive almost groaned at the sight of her high, firm tits nearly bursting out of a chainmail bustier above a ripped stomach that could have doubled as a washboard.

A diamond stud winked at him from her belly button.

"Took your fucking time, Emily." Taylor sniffed. Then prowled over like a jungle cat to inspect Clive. The feral grace in her easy movements was beyond arousing. "This is the mystery man, huh? I guess he'll do as long as he minds his manners. You got a name, big guy?"

"You can call me Mister Meaner." Clive pitched his voice as deep as he could, rumbling out the words. "I hear you're gagging for a good dicking."

Emily sucked in a shocked breath behind him, but his older sister just got an evil glimmer in her sapphire eyes as she stepped forward to stand nose-to-nose with him.

"That better be you playing the part, buddy." She snarled, her crimson lips parting to bare her pearly teeth. "Save the backtalk for the stream, or I might tear off that limp noodle and make you eat it."

They ain't got no sack,

Addicted to my crack.

Clive's confidence wavered. He could feel the rage baking off Taylor like an oven. She smelled of saltwater, coconut lotion, and a hint of something spicy. It was all he could do to maintain his challenging stare as the awful music robbed him of nerve.

"Why are you in costume, meathead?" The blonde ball-buster changed target to sneer at Emily. "You're sure as shit not appearing on my stream."

"Um... I thought it would help set the mood?" Em sounded nervous but rallied regardless, striking a half-hearted pose. "Like, call me Femme Felony, villainous sidekick and faithful camera woman."

"Whatever. I don't care. Keep your trap shut and stay out of view. Nobody is going to ruin this payday for me."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

Clive didn't appreciate the way his oldest sibling talked down to his sister-turned-lover. Fury bubbled in his chest, and his spine stiffened, along with other, more southerly parts. The armored codpiece on his pants wobbled as life stirred within.

"And who are you supposed to be?" He frowned, quirking a stern brow before remembering he was wearing a helmet.

An electronic chiming noise barely registered over the thudding house music, but Taylor cocked her head upon hearing it and gave him a malicious grin.

"You're about to find out." She purred, spinning on a spiked heel and sauntering over to a familiar laptop resting on a sideboard beside the tripod, leaning over to punch a few keys. "Watch and learn how it's done, losers."

A red light started blinking on the mounted webcam, and the camera feed appeared on the computer screen. It showed the cushion-lined pit and several tools that Clive hadn't spotted earlier. Cruel whips, riding crops, handcuffs, and a few BDSM toys he couldn't identify were arrayed on the seat for the audience to see. Taylor glided onto the stream as though she were born to perform on stage.

"Greeting citizens of Incel City. This is Mistress Titanium, your queen and protector, making a public announcement to inform you that the weak, pathetic villain called Mister Meaner has been brought to justice. Stand witness as I punish him for crimes against womankind!"

That seemed rather on the nose, but the chimes kept ringing from the laptop as the comments and donations filtered in. Even Clive had to admit that his older sister was aggressively gorgeous in her skimpy bondage costume, looking as though she had stepped out of the badlands to kick butt and subjugate entire states with her ferocious beauty.

He could almost picture himself kneeling before her, bending his back for her to use as a footstool. For the smallest taste of her rarified affections when he gave her everything--did anything--simply to please her.

The boys all want me,

And I take their money,

...then small hands gripped his forearm, and Emily's gentle, worried voice cut through the funk of electronic bass and unearned devotion.

"Hey, eyes on the prize, big bro. Are you going to let Taylor talk to you like that or pump a baby into her bitchy belly with your awesome, sister-breeding cock?"

The filth-laden words hit Clive like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. Some of the nervousness faded away, and his manhood stirred in his trousers. He turned to stare into Emily's concerned, cobalt eyes and gritted his teeth against the spirit-crushing music.