Siblings Strip Away Past Notions (Remade)

"Because then you can play drinking games. So many games..." Harris spread his wings. "You got no idea how fun those are... flip cup, kings, beer pong... Damn, you missed out on college."

"Uh... No, I didn't," Wendy said with real indignation. "Obviously, I've gotten drunk before and played that stuff. It's just stupid and overhyped. Beer pong is boring as hell. It's just a bunch of people tossing a ping-pong ball at a cup and talking about their arc and spin like they think they're playing a real fucking sport."

"Uahhh!" Harris clutched his chest at the blasphemous statement. "How dare you! Beer pong is great. You're probably just sayin' that cuz you suck at it."

"I bet I do suck at it since I never play it... because it's stupid and boring."

"You're crazy. You're hating on beer pong, but you were probably doin' much lamer shit at your pre-games. What were you doin', reading law books?"

"Uh, try Strip Trivial Pursuit and Strip Twister. My friends who drank a lot thought both of those were more exciting than beer pong."

The apartment fell still, and Wendy clammed up. She came alive during debates and banter, and sometimes lost sight of where she was. She had only played those strip games once or twice each and had mentioned them because she felt challenged. Now, the men were staring at her, wondering if they had heard her correctly. Wendy hesitantly turned to James, who had stopped ignoring her presence. Through his wide eyes and parted lips, she saw his mind churn, absent of negative emotion.

"I know strip poker... So, I get how Strip Trivial Pursuit would work," Austin gulped. "But how on earth would you play Strip Twister? If you lose, you're outta the game."

Wendy suddenly felt the men hanging on her next breath, expecting her to detail how she and friends had managed to turn a childhood favorite into an adult party game. Even her brother was interested in what she had to say. Calming her limbs and throat with a sip of wheaty beer, Wendy sat up and gathered her memories. "Well, it's the same as regular Twister. There's a person who spins the wheel with all the hands, feet, and colors on it, and they call out, Left foot on blue, Right hand on yellow, et cetera, et cetera. We only changed it by putting two of the big game mats together, so more people could play at once, and the rule was, if you fell over — or got knocked down — instead of being out of the game, you'd ditch an item of clothing and keep playing."

"That's awesome..." Austin decided.

"Then how does anyone ever win if falling doesn't get you kicked out?" James saw everyone turn to him at once. He didn't realize it, but it was the first time he had spoken since Wendy walked into the apartment.

Pivoting on the floor, Wendy treated her younger brother and his casual question the same as she would a stray cat approaching her on the sidewalk. Alright... Don't get excited. Don't make a big deal out of it. Don't spook him. Show him you're chill.

"Good question. Whenever you go down, you gotta take another item off, so you're eventually gonna reach a point where you either run out of clothes or you choose to quit. As you can probably guess, guys tried to bump the women to make us fall faster. But some of the women were even worse, like, they'd outright push to avoid being the first one to lose. So, there wasn't winning, per se. But I guess for the guys, that was winning, hah!" Wendy watched him nod in understanding and then lean back again. Hey, that's okay... You can take your time warming up to me... I'm fine with this.

The roommates on the couch were still eager to hear more. "Did you ever lose lose? Or did you stop before that happened?" Luke shyly asked.

"Umm... Heh! I've never been good at knowing when to quit."

James was struck by another weird vision, this time of his sister laughing on a flimsy, white mat. She was stretched out and bent over in a Downward Dog yoga pose, fighting to hold her palms and toes steady on the red, yellow, green, and blue dots. She was wearing only a powder blue bra and matching thong, while half-naked men and women reached and stepped over and around her to touch the dictated dots. A tipsy blonde gave her a subtle shove, but she laughed it off and held steady. Then the wheel spinner announced the next move over the electronic music. Suddenly, a guy playing in only a dress shirt draped his leg over hoisted butt. She said, "I didn't hear him call Dick on Light Blue." The guy laughed and bucked his hips until she finally gave in and fell to the mat. She giggled joyously, already fiddling with her bra hooks to get back in the game.

A warmth spread through James's body, pushing out quickly to his limbs and rising to the pores of his hairy arms. He heard his friend Luke ask Wendy, "How often did you play?"

"Uhhh..." she sang into a high pitch, teetering. Over four years, Wendy had played the game a grand total of once, an anticlimactic truth. She glanced at her brother again, who was finally listening to her and showing interest in her life and words, as were his fascinated friends. "Well, we obviously didn't play it every weekend we partied, hah! So, ya know, we probably played games like that maybe... a couple times a month?"

"Damn." Harris's mouth was open. Austin's hands were on his head. "That's amazing you liked playing those games all the time."

Wendy squeezed her eyes and wanted to die. She had assumed she was walking back the boys' expectations, but she had instead blown them away. Still, they were looking at her with admiration, so she sat tall and coolly shrugged, "Well, my friends and I were all chill, and we had a lot of body confidence, so playing those games wasn't as big of a deal for us as you'd probably think. There were--"

"We should play Strip Mario Kart!"

"Huh?" Wendy looked over at Luke on the far end of the couch. The whole room did. A drag of his bottle narrowed his thin face, and then he chuckled lightly before falling silent. "What?" Wendy repeated.

"I'm saying that I, for one, would be up for Strip Mario Kart. I think it'd be funny. It's like you said, if you're comfortable with yourself, it's not a big deal or anything."

"You mean, like, you theoretically would be?"

Austin leaned forward and nodded proudly. "You know what? I'd be game."

"I'm down," Harris grinned at everybody.

No, this wasn't happening. Her butt and heels were numb on the hard floor, and she was filled with impending dread. Wendy needed to say no and nip the idea in the bud, but after all of her bragging and the cool persona she had built for herself, her clever tongue was tied. She cursed her name, deservedly calling herself a fucking idiot. Fortunately, she had a saving grace.

Wendy turned to James, the sphinx-like presence in the room, and smiled easily. "Guys, it sounds like fun, but I don't think James wants to play that with his sister, hah!"

She waited for him to deliver the boom. As he distantly scratched his five-o'clock shadow below his brown, furrowed brows and strong nose, a tightness trickled up Wendy's throat. She had spent the last several days convincing him to recognize her as a sexual being, and she began to sense the danger in provoking him. With a subtle pinch, her brother guided his red shirt over his lap, and Wendy's veins ran cold with ice.

James calmly lifted his head. "Wen... You should be able to do what you want. I don't think it's my place to stop you."

Cheers and applause rang out from the couch as the roommates celebrated their friend, their hero. In the commotion of the animated men, Wendy sat stunned in her pretzeled legs on the hardwood floor below them. Her brother had said the words and looked at her with the acceptance she had yearned for — the one time she wished he hadn't.

Alone in the room, out of allies and saviors, Wendy knew she could simply say no. Any excuse now would be a transparent lie, an embarrassment to her and her reputation, but she could still do it.

As she looked around the room, witnessing the loud burst of happiness and excitement created by her presence, a prickling heat traveled from her ankles and thighs and into her heart, which began racing with adrenaline, melting her frozen veins. Every sensation was heightened, her helplessness and her hope, her fear and her sense of thrill, and her isolation and her sense of belonging. Wendy closed her eyes, holding her trembling hands.

With a self-assured breath, Wendy jumped to her feet and drew the guys' attention with a sportive and seasoned smile. "Alright..." she announced, retying her ponytail. "We can play, but someone has to get me a shirt first. I'm not starting out in a bra."

***** 7

Closing the drawer to the dresser in his room, James held a white, cotton t-shirt. He studied the logo from the charity race that both he and Wendy ran back in high school. It was surreal to think of why it was in his hands now. With an odd sense of brotherly duty, he tried not to think too much as he walked back into the kitchen.

His roommates were gathered around the granite snack counter, munching on chips and dip, with his sister standing tentatively by them. He offered her the shirt, unable to meet her eye, and he heard her thankfully accept.

"Don't worry. I'll teach you how to use fabric softener one of these days."

James muffled a laugh as he walked around his sister in the baggy, graphic tee, and he found his chair in the living room. Behind him, his friends began discussing the rules with his sister, and James opted not to get involved. He would accept whatever the group decided.

"Are we gonna do an item per Grand Prix, or are we doing it by race?"

"Yeah, that's a good question. Each race seems too fast, but a Grand Prix lasts ten to fifteen minutes. It'd be an hour before everyone had their socks off. Wendy, would every two or three minutes be too fast, or would that be okay?"

"Yeah, you're the one who's done this before."

Wendy saw the trio of young men looking at her like she was their oracle for risqué party games. While her game history was a lie, she was well-versed in the minds of excited boys. They wanted her to feel like she made all the rules, that way she could only blame herself for her fate and never suspect they tried to get her out of her clothes.

Just think about Twister, Wendy. What was that, junior year? So, that was three school years ago... God, I'm getting old, hah! Okay, so someone was falling over in Twister maybe... eh... once a minute? Yeah, that's right. But then again, there had to be a dozen of us playing, so nobody stripped too quickly. There are only five of us here. Then again, like Luke said, if you do it by Grand Prix, it would take two hours for everyone to be out of their socks. The night would be over by then, so what would be the point in even doing it? Okay, well, look... you have shoes and socks on, plus you have a shirt now. That's five items right there before you even have to show anything, and you've been getting pretty fucking good at not coming in last out of the group, Wendy thought.

"Let's just do the loser of each race."

When the break was over, the five players found themselves sitting in the living room, leaning forward, and gripping their various controllers a bit more tightly. As the new race loaded, an elevating tingle spread through the thin air, bonding those on the gaming chair, couch, and floor alike.

All focus was on the two large screens dominating the entertainment center against the back wall. One screen was split into halves and the other into quarters, each box starring a different racer's character and kart. Large, golden numbers began a countdown, and then the lights turned green.

The room lit up with the sounds of plastic buttons and roaring engines. Before long, they were swerving, crashing, and yelling while speeding through the vibrant scenery to the mood of charming music. The competitors smiled, even when growling in anguish.

Two minutes later, a ghost on a motorbike crossed the finish line, and James sighed in relief. He was soon followed by Harris and Austin. The battle to avoid last place was on between Wendy and Luke, who were gritting their teeth as their characters bumped into each other. To the disappointment of others, Wendy pulled ahead and crossed the finish line first.

Everyone then turned to Luke, recognizing that once he took an item off in his defeat, they were truly playing Strip Mario Kart, it was no joke. Without fuss, Luke peeled his right sock off, but that didn't stop his buddies from catcalling him. James whistled for the sexy act, getting a kick out of the campy atmosphere.

The game was on, along with its adult twist, and they began moving from race to race. While the men hadn't discussed with each other, and especially not with Wendy, they had all chosen slow vehicles, for there was no honor in an unfair fight. They teased and sarcastically cheered for each other as they lost socks. The only instances where James didn't join the festive applause were when his sister removed her running shoes. For their part, his friends didn't catcall her either. Instead, they watched her stretch in her tight leggings as she laughed and unlaced her sneakers.

Wendy could tell that the boys viewed each of her wardrobe reductions as a means to an end. There was a possibility of her stripping naked in their living room, and Wendy began to notice that thought weighing on their minds. Everyone was barefoot now, perhaps even missing a belt or necklace, yet Luke was already pantless. Considering her brother's baggy shirt was covering her backside, there was no reason for the curly-haired blonde to be distracted other than the sheer idea of her. When he blamed his losing streak on a finger cramp, a tickled Wendy was almost flattered.

"Alright, listen up. Since it doesn't matter who wins, everybody just make sure Luke loses," Harris plotted. Everyone cheered on the plan, except for Luke, who was sitting uncomfortably against the armrest of black, leather sofa in nothing but his plaid boxers.

The next race was spectacular. It took place on a block of cheese with craters, mice, and jumps, and nobody cared about winning. All players focused on tormenting Luke with every item they could find, while the computer-controlled racers were far ahead. James reached the checkered finish line third, but he avoided crossing it, instead choosing to park his bike whilst holding a green turtle shell to make sure his sister safely crossed before Luke. After the three-lap shit show, people were holding their sides from laughter.

"You're up, Luke!" Austin grinned.

Luke's sentence was to set down his controller for good and to render himself naked in a room full of his clothed friends. Wendy felt no pity for him, as somebody had to be the first to lose, and this situation was a funny quirk of these types of games. "Ya gotta lose the bo-oxers..." she sang.

He dramatically drained his beer and rose to his feet, thin and pale, resembling a man on the march to the electric chair, hoping the switch would be thrown already. Wendy rolled her eyes and was about to tell him to man up, only to cover her mouth at the realization that he already had — in a way. Luke dropped his underwear, and the reason for his dreadful performances was no longer a secret. Wendy didn't know why the average, white erection was so funny, but the snickering around her made her do the same.

"Hey, Luke, why do ya got a boner?" The room erupted from Harris's joke, sending people to the floor and sending Luke into a new shade of scarlet. He tried speaking his defense, only for his larynx to get stuck and wobble in his throat.

"Hey! Hey!" Wendy looked around the room, wiping her watery eyes. "Let's appreciate the balls he had to actually follow through with it and be the first one naked. Some guys I played with quit because they were embarrassed about their hard-ons. Luke has some fucking courage," she said truthfully. Then, as she had remembered doing with her friends in college, she saluted the brave and naked player with a round of applause.

James joined in, knowing he would have pitched much more of a fit than his friend did. When Austin and Harris began to clap with them, Luke graciously bowed with a proud chest, likely swelled by Wendy's masculinity-stroking words.

----

They had reached a natural intermission. It was weird eating food and hosting a guest with someone walking around the kitchen naked and talking to people like everything was normal.

James was in the bathroom with his fly down, breaking the seal with a sigh of relief. While he had only drunk one beer, he was more lightheaded than usual. His longtime friend was openly displaying his erection in the apartment, yet it wasn't that strange. It was a body, and it was just part of a game. What they were doing only seemed surreal whenever James thought of how his sister was willingly subjecting herself to the same sights and the same rules.

The living room soon filled again, though the atmosphere was a stark contrast to minutes earlier. The intermission had given the young adults the chance to think about the game.

"Wendy, it's your turn to choose the course."

"Oh..." Wendy said softly, not looking back at Austin or the naked boy beside him. The blue, pill-shaped controller was loose in her hands, and she aimlessly scrolled with the joystick across the screen. After a long pause, she tapped the X button twice, starting the new race and beginning the game again.

By the second lap, Wendy was struggling to steer from laughing hysterically at all the commotion. The screaming, laughing, and energy was even higher than last time, for the gamblers were at risk of literally losing their shirts.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" Harris yelled as he fell off of the track for a third time, sealing his fate.

"Harris. Tank top..." Wendy popped her lips.

"This is bullshit." To the sound of Austin's strip-club-esque beatboxing, Harris took his tank off. Unnnst, unnnst, unnnst, unnnst! It flew across the room in a ball of rage and harmlessly hit a TV.

The next race was through a rainy, futuristic city, and it looked to be Wendy's turn to finish last. She jumped to her feet and bit her tongue. "C'mon! I need a star!" But there were no magical items to bail her out. "Shit! Fuck you!"

Losing stung, as it always did, but rarely did it make her blush. She could feel the dry stares. The angst. The questions in their eyes over whether she'd do it. Boys were stupid. After an hour of planning her outfit, doing her makeup, and brushing her hair, detailing herself until she looked and felt like a total smokeshow, nobody hated her brother's ugly, baggy tee more than she did.

So, with a heavy sigh, Wendy rolled her neck and looked around at her hosts. All four were quiet, bearing shadowy, stony faces. They were on the edge of their seats, but more like they were Mission Control for a space shuttle launch than college guys about to see boobs in a cute top. "This is crazy... I don't know if I'm okay wearing my bra in a room full of guys..." With that, they lightened the fuck up, helping Wendy fling the unflattering garment far away from her.

James saw his sister's boobs, midriff, and shoulders make their encore appearance. He swiveled his chair and looked away, in no doubt that his friends on the couch were about to savor the return of her butt in her cool gray leggings. The fact that he was sitting in line with his sister, perhaps ahead of her even, made it easier to avoid her. It was likely the reason why he was the only person still wearing both pants and a shirt. I didn't even start with a belt, unlike Austin... or Luke, who said his crucifix was a clothing item, haha!

Advantages and arrogance aside, not even James was immune to the craziness that was Mario Kart. Just minutes after his sister discarded her shirt — or his shirt, rather — she threw a banana peel in front of his vehicle in the final stretch of a race, causing his kart to careen into the canyon below. She and Austin overtook him, sending him from second to last place. Her maniacal laugh was one only an older sister could issue.