Submitting With Sister Pt. 02

Chapter 1

You woke up mid-climax. Filling the fleshy grip of your sister's cunt with another few spurts of incestuous semen. Not that that gushing passage was particularly picky about who splashed chromosomes up the wall of it. By the end of the day, your own deposit would be very much lost among many, many others.

A deep, internal squelchy-feeling was what had caused your morning wood to mature so prematurely. As it had more than once before. The sensation of your own back passage being delved into quite roughly, the presumably more gentle build up having occurred while you slumbered on. The panting grunts of Skeg were an alarm clock you knew well by now, though it was ever a coin toss which one of you he'd pick to utilise first. It had been four months since you and Jenny had first moved into this old pervert's apartment, and by now the idea of him creeping up on your still-unconscious form and just sliding on in, barely registered. That was just how your day started... as it promised to go on.

On the other side of Jenny, you spotted the sleeping shape of Nancy. The daughter of your employer and landlord was spending more and more nights here, these days. She seemed to like the idea of living here, and mothering both you and your sister... though she wasn't actually so much older than you both. A slight bulge now visible in her belly, reminding you again of last week's news.

With a grand and shuddering groan, you felt Skeg cum inside you. Another sticky delivery into the far depths of your bowels. The little, glowing burst of dirty pride it always gave you, waking you up more properly. You didn't get much pleasure, out of that first drowsy fucking of the morning... but it got your small heart pumping back to its normal, hummingbird pace. Once he'd pulled himself free and wiped the last few dribbles upon your asscheeks, you clambered up and stretched to let him move over toward your sister. Four on that battered, old mattress was always a very cozy affair. Better to head for the bathroom now, while he was warming back up for round two.

You sat upon the porcelain throne, casting your slightly-crusty nightie aside. Rod and Dave had come over to watch a movie the night before, so of course the silky thing had not survived unscathed. You let Skeg's dawn greeting dribble out of you, then jumped in the shower with a rubber douche to wash up and rinse out for more. Practical necessities of your daily life that might once have embarrassed you utterly... but now were just standard chores. You were at the point of sorting your make-up: carefully drawing black lines around your eyes, when Nancy wandered unsteadily in... naked as she ever was. The older woman sat down and started peeing, without a care for your presence at all. There was little you hadn't seen of each other by now, and until she'd got a coffee in her, you knew very little even registered. Once you were looking as pretty as you could manage, you set off to sort that for her... wandering naked through the kitchen. Telltale sounds of moaning were emerging from the bedroom, so you daren't try and get dressed without risking getting dragged in as well. It was always best to let the lipstick and mascara dry a bit before you risked it getting smudged. You put on some toast and smelled the milk, aware that no-one had gone shopping for a bit. Living in a household that was near-incessantly distracted meant that more usual chores quite often got forgotten. Take-out packets and discarded underwear lay strewn almost everywhere. You did try to clean up, in moments like this... but there was just so little time when your services weren't needed for other matters.

Once everyone else was up and awake, you found yourself under the breakfast table. Having already eaten your share, it was rather inevitable that you'd get a second meal of flesh as well. This time it was a mouthful of Nancy's pussy as she ground her hips against your face and sipped the scalding mug you'd given her. You knew just how to lightly nibble on her clitoris to bring her back to the world without earning a spank for being too rough. The clenching scratch of her fingers in your hair telling you how much she appreciated such diligent attention to detail. They all went to Jenny if it was simply raw passion that was wanted... but everyone applauded how studiously you'd learned what specific actions their different bodies craved. You found it quite fun, really... to experiment with all sorts of different techniques and watch carefully how they reacted. It was actually becoming something of a hobby, more than just the necessities of living here.

When breakfast was done, you were sent down to man the shop. Knowing that there still wouldn't be many customers yet... even with the change in core business strategy. You didn't mind. You like just watching the people wander past, outside. Wondering which ones would come in... and what they'd ask for.

Chapter 2

Your first customer of the day was Officer Brandon, the local beat cop and collector of passed out drunks or particularly slow and stupid thieves. This was not the sort of neighbourhood where the rule of law was expected to stick its nose too deep into, a survival lesson that the man had clearly picked up early. He mostly just wandered around picking up bribes and passing them on to his higher ups... only noticing things when he absolutely had to. Skeg had already had arrangements with him over some of the more questionable suppliers of tools, back when that was still what the shop actually rented out. Now, though... a new deal had been made, and you knew well enough to go skipping after the man in blue when he knocked for you.

The mid-morning street was as bustling as ever, though you held little fear over the various leering grins anymore. You recognised most of them, and knew no-one was likely to get too grabby while you were trailing behind Brandon. The weakening, autumn sun felt nice upon your arms, thighs and stomach where your skimpy outfit revealed them. Today's cleanest choice had been a 'cheerleader' set. One of the many such flimsy, themed costumes that Skeg had ordered off the internet for you and Jenny. Whenever the old man got drunk he seemed to end up trawling through dodgy websites, finding more poorly-made kinky stripper-wear to dress you up in. Still... it meant you always had something to slip into, when the last set ended up in a shredded pile on the floor.

The officer led you back to his station, a ramshackle affair with little more than two large cells, a receptionist and three half-asleep guards/desk-jockeys. Any real criminals they caught were presumably taken much further into the city, where the cops holding the keys were less likely to pickpocket anyone who wandered in. You knew the game you were going to be playing by now, anyway... it was one of the man's favourites. He ran his baton along the bars of the largest cell, startling awake all the very-hungover troublemakers from the night before.

"Wakey-Wakey ya buncha useless alkies. Got a little present for ya..."

Bleary eyes struggled to focus through the bars, but you knew what your role was... You stepped forward tentatively and bobbed a little curtsy. You didn't have to play up your nervousness in facing this cage full of dirty, smelly men... yet this was the third time Brandon had got you to do this now, so the humiliation had worn off a bit.

"Best lock-up I've ever been in!" Exclaimed one of the prisoners, in a bedraggled suit and tie. You were working on the pillar of flesh he had stuck through the bars with your mouth, while your hands occupied two other shafts on either side. "I can't believe such a pretty, young sweetheart would offer to do her community service like this... It's kinda sad, really... my daughter's about her age."

Despite his words... you felt the man stiffen up a little as he said that, clearly actually more turned on by the thought. You tried to just ignore him, and the growing smirks of a few recognisable previous-offenders at the back. They'd still come forward for their turn, despite the chuckling... you were sure of it.

By the end, your face and chest were quite liberally coated with trails of splattered ejaculate. Officer Brandon liked you to catch most of it all over yourself, rather than let you just swallow it all down. 'Added to the fun of it', he argued... whenever you'd finally reached the end of the line of poked-through cocks. For, of course, that was the moment when he finally ordered: "Show em the goods Jo!" and got you to lift up your little mini-skirt. The cop seemed to delight in watching the shocked faces when it was revealed the well-practiced mouth that had just attended to all of them... belonged to a teenage boy. You found the whole thing pretty disturbing and offensive, really... but that was just the way of things around here. If that was what it took to keep your life in the shop safe... then so be it.

The cop would then fuck you over the desk in front of all of them, before letting you back out onto the street to head home. The cum-covered walk of shame this meant for you, being just another source of fun for him. Of course... by now, a good proportion of the people you passed already knew something about who and what you were. Dripping your way between them with one eye half-closed was more just an embarrassing reminder to yourself how far you'd come in the last four months. There seemed little danger that anyone would recognise you as the rich, young private-schooled young man who'd gone missing so long ago. You were Jo the femboy-fucktoy now... just another piece of weirdo street-trash among all the others that you bumped into on this side of town. People might chuckle and slap your ass as you power-walked by, but they wouldn't probe any further. The anonymity in plain sight made you feel oddly secure.

Chapter 3

Arriving back at the shop, you pushed open the door to find a new figure already waiting impatiently. Dressed in a long, expensive-looking coat he was ringing the little bell upon the counter repeatedly, peering down the passageway behind for any sign of some service. You stepped inside quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice, but unsure how to proceed... There was always a chance that the stranger was actually someone interested in renting a lawnmower or having a drill repaired. The cut of his clothes already told you he wasn't from anywhere around here. Which meant the sight of what appeared to be a high-school cheerleader absolutely drenched in slowly-drying cum might earn a whole host of awkward questions.

Swarmed by indecision... you crept toward the stairs up toward the apartment. Perhaps you could rush straight up them and send either Skeg or Nancy down while you took a moment to change and wash your face. The problem being that there was no way to get there without also getting closer and closer to the man himself. He was tall and slender, with smartly-cut brown hair. You still couldn't see his face, but were beginning to suspect it might be quite handsome. Some hidden part of you was beginning to hope he was here for the normal reason...

In the very instant that thought was passing through your mind, he did turn around! And the bottom fell out of your entire universe. Objectively... the face was sort of handsome, in a middle-aged sort of way... but it was also one you recognised. One you feared the judgement of more than any other, and never thought you'd see again. Especially not while dressed and dirtied as you currently were. For there... looking down at you with a growing look of mild disgust... was your own Father. His piercing eyes pinned you to the spot and seemed to dissect every whorish detail of your current outlook. For a moment... you thought you saw a flash of recognition deep in those dark and sneering pupils. Yet, if there was... he made no move to acknowledge it.

"Ah, finally. I assume you... work here?"

The condescending pause made sure to inform you that he didn't consider anything you might do day-to-day as actual employment... Not that you particularly did either. It was that same, haughty, down-the-nose attitude that you had seen him dish out upon anyone remotely below him though. The limitless store of oppressive self-measurement that had drained all your own confidence away over years. The urge to stand up straight and apologise for running away to be a human sextoy was palpable... but he still hadn't given any confirmation that he recognised you! Perhaps there remained a possibility you could hide from this.

You nodded nervously and scurried around to the other side of the counter, forgetting about the splatterings of semen running down your face... for the moment. As you passed the stairway up to the apartment your fear-heightened senses heard the distinct sounds of Skeg and Nancy 'intimately discussing management practices', which explained why they hadn't heard the bell ringing. While you didn't need to hear the moans coming from the shop's back room to know where your sister would be. Most of your more regular customers knew by now that a little waiting might be in order to get what they were after in this... less professional of business outlets. You knew well how little patience your parent had for standing around though.

"I've been told I should come to this place and ask for a... 'drill bit, with extra attachments'?"

He knew the right codewords! Reciting them as if not quite believing they meant what he thought they might. Had another customer recognised one of those old posters and rang a tip in for him? Had he hired some sort of P.I. who had tracked you down to the shop? Or was he actually just here as a customer himself... having learned what to ask for by coincidence and word of mouth? You still didn't know whether he could tell it was his own son standing opposite him, dressed in a hideously-short skirt and a jail's worth of man-gunk. Your skill with make-up and tight-braided pigtails had only improved over the last few months, making you seem more and more effeminate. Even the way you moved and stood idle had naturally shifted into more teasingly feminine postures. Maybe he really didn't know! You held onto the thought with all your heart.

Still, the reality of what he'd actually asked for had to be addressed... You were faced with the knowledge that you were an item on the shop's menu more poignantly than ever before. How many strangers had come in and asked for that very same thing to date?

You couldn't risk replying to him in anyway different than you had to all of them:

In your softest, squeakiest voice you answered... "T-hat costs $50, Sir... u-up front."

Chapter 4

The ringing clunk of the cash register was like the tolling of a death-bell. A sealing of unavoidable fates. Your father had handed over the single, large bill without a blink. To him that was just pocket change... but to you it was an inescapable contract for things to come.

For months, you hadn't really had a single doubt about where your life had taken you. Once it had all began happening, you had just moved on to accepting it as you always had. Strangers came. They paid. They fucked you or your sister. Skeg took the money. Nancy took it back off him to buy you nice food, or new movies, or pretty clothes. It all just worked, without you really having to think about the connotations of any of it. You liked the simplicity. The fact that you could just muddle through and let other people make all the big decisions for you. You liked feeling another satisfied customer grunting his climax into your rear-end... or down the back of your gagging throat. It was such an immediate and undeniable moment of success. Of knowing you had made another human feel good.

Suddenly it all felt a bit more complicated, though... as you led your own father along the passage at the back of the shop. There was only really that one room where Skeg and the others played cards, which had been set up to contain a bed and some other... useful supplies: Ropes and paddles and dildos and things that a few customers had requested or graciously donated. So if both the shop's 'assets' were required at once... one of you had to take their work into the yard out back. It had high enough walls and a mouldy, old couch to lie out upon, if that was what was wanted. But you were always very aware that anyone in the buildings above could look out their windows and watch everything. You had caught glimpses of ghostly faces leering down more than once, so always tried to just not look up and pay attention. Of course, no-one had ever complained or called the cops... in this neighbourhood, such a thing just counted as some free, backyard theatre.

You blinked in the sunlight as you stepped out through the doorway. It was actually quite a lovely day. You wondered what would happen come Fall and Winter... but didn't really have to wonder too much. One man had already asked to bend you over in the pouring rain the other day, delighting in tugging upon your bedraggled hair and watching how your sopping clothes clung tighter to your shape. It had been quite refreshing, in its own way... though you had spent all the next day stifling cute, little sneezes.

You turned back to check your father had followed. Twisting your hips and sticking your butt out a bit, just on instinct. It was funny to think... how you had started picking up poses that were 'sexy', by admiring your twin's unquenchable urge to tease and all the movies and magazines and music videos that society threw at you. None of it was on purpose, really... It was just there was a certain expectation in the eyes of every man who came to claim you, and your inherent need to live up to those expectations. A need that had almost definitely been put in place by your life-long desperation to live up to what this particular one present had demanded of you. A desperation that had so often seemed to fall short.

Bending yourself suggestively over the arm of the couch, and just letting your skirt ride up a little... you wondered: Was this what he'd really wanted, all along, maybe? Was this how you could finally earn Daddy's pride? Presenting the rise of your bouncy, young butt to him and looking back over one shoulder with big, doleful eyes. It seemed almost empowering... in a way. Certainly the most settled you'd ever felt in his presence. Whether he recognised you, or he didn't... what happened next you knew how to deal with.

You'd had plenty of practice, after all... Plenty.

Chapter 5

The sun beat down from a wide, blue sky, weaving between chipped-concrete tower blocks. Chained dogs barked at pigeons in neighbouring yards. Horns beeped at junctions and music blared from windows. The city hummed with its own sense of continual, chaotic energy. So many people rubbing up against and colliding with each other in these rough and tumble surrounds. Yet, in that one yard. Behind a barely noticeable little shop with a half-shuttered, dirt-smeared window. You were colliding with your own father. Feeling the fleshy pillar which once pumped you into your mother, now pumping into you. None of them would be able to tell, you were sure... thinking of the multiple, unseen onlookers that must be able to lean out of their balcony windows and smoke cheap cigarettes while watching the little whore-boy get fucked again. Maybe half of them hadn't even worked out that you were a boy yet.