Submitting With Sister Pt. 02

None of it really bothered you much, anymore. The constant worries about what everyone else thought of you had shrank down and condensed. Now you only cared whether the person currently fucking you was enjoying it. You lived for the sound of their grunting breaths. The rippling shake of their thrusts through your entire body. The intense opening and closing feeling where the tip of them spilled in and out of your puckered star, and that deep, inner churning sensation where each invasion passed your prostate. There was a freedom to it... Letting your body just buck its slender hips back upon every fleshy meeting. A sense of giving yourself over to a realm of pure, innocent physicality. Your basest humanity didn't care what clothes you wore or what role you were supposed to play. It didn't care who this man was, or whether he deserved to take pleasure from you like this. It was just a slave to the intensity of sensation that these precious moments throughout your day provided. You knew, now... what your sister had been trying to give you all this time: Not a freedom in that others would stop taking advantage of your all-too-eager-to-please nature. But a freedom to just say 'fuck it!' and throw yourself into the den of wolves, then revel in the experience.

Perhaps it was not the most healthy option... psychologically or physically. However, it was one you could choose for yourself and then ride the wave of. Wearing whatever made you feel like an exposed wire and sexy. Doing whatever the world you'd come from really thought you shouldn't. It was a dirty, grimy, disorganised and chaotic lifestyle. But it was yours and it fit in with everything else going on in this crazy, bustling part of town... just fine. People knew you around here now. Street sellers gave you little gifts of food when you passed. Working boys offered a wolf-whistle or a little squeeze on the bum as they scuffled over who could try and chat you up. Whether they meant it as a joke, or not, they weren't cruel about it. You were part of the streets and scenery, the shapes and stories of this place. None of it was anywhere near so cold and clinical, so callous and shallow... as the circles your parents still lived in.

Your father finished inside of you... It was a little early, to be honest. A little disappointing. You had been a little too tangled up in realising how little his opinion might mean to you anymore... to enjoy the taboo reality of being fucked by him. As he pulled out, a little of his semen dripped out of you onto the concrete. Several of your other skimpy outfits were hanging out to dry, nearby. They flapped loosely in the breeze. He rocked back, panting, onto his heels.

"That was... hmm... I needed that..."

You turned around and hopped yourself up to sit on the arm of the couch... offering small, teasing glimpses of your own penis under the skirt, and giving your asshole a few moments to close up.

"I'll come back... Now and then... When I can." He stumbled through his words, caught up in a way you'd never thought he could be. You nodded, non committedly.

"Marie's been... different, since..." Your mother's name barely registered. You didn't care much about her, either. You just stared at him with those big, round eyes. Did he know? Or didn't he?

"I'll... let myself out." He murmured, just starting to regain the pomp which you were sure would be back at full blast by the time he reached the street. You watched him do up his fly and head back through the shop. While you sat in the sun for a while... and just listened to the city.

********************************************

When you headed back into the corridor, Jenny's gangbang had just finished up. Four men came out of the door ahead of you and ruffled your hair as they too, turned to leave. You slipped in to where they'd come from, and cuddled up to the cum-smeared remains of your sister. They'd clearly gone at it hard... even by her standards. She was a dribbling, barely-conscious wreck of a teenage cocksleeve. She knew your gentle touch though... and leaned in for a kiss.

You didn't tell her who had come calling. It would only make her angry. She wasn't ready to forgive and forget, quite yet. The pair of you just lay together, sticky and sweaty and slimy... as you so often ended up by this point in the day. Upstairs thumps and creaking floorboards made it hard to tell whether the father and daughter duo were fighting or fucking. Both scenarios amounted to the same thing, really. That was what love meant, to them.

You might have dozed off... but a sound echoed out, dredging you back to the present. The bell in the shop had rung. One or the pair of you were wanted.

Chapter 6

"Like this?" The younger boy asked, dragging his little tongue up the underside of today's tool of practice. He really was beginning to show some marked improvements in confidence and technique... though there was still that distinct shyness, wherein he almost seemed desperate not to recognise the further contexts of where he was and what he was doing.

"Yes... but look your customer in the eye when you're doing it!" You instructed, glancing up and down the alleyway just one more time for safety. These little 'public training sessions' made you incredibly nervous, every time. Not for the first time, you wondered how you had let yourself be persuaded to come out here and do this alone. The terror of being caught put cricks in your spine as you hunkered down in high-heels and mini-skirt beside the kneeling schoolboy. While the gormless, toothy grin on Mr Landsdale's face as he looked down on the pair of you didn't help at all. He was one of your more regular clients, and certainly a good choice for this. Generally calm, easy to please and just about smart enough to be discreet. Meeting you near his own place of employment for a 'freebie' was an offer he'd never refuse.

Terry tried his best to obey your orders, glancing up at the large-bellied stranger with those wide, watery eyes. But again and again, that focus slipped back over. You weren't stupid. You knew where the precious, young thing's real devotion lay. The innocent, naive obsession he had for absorbing every inch of your slutty, effeminate outlook. It made you a little sick in the stomach to see the growing roots of your corruption over that blinding, heartfelt adoration. Yet also... oh so horny... to watch him twist himself around any task or fleshy limb you asked of him. Insatiably hopeful to win your affections by doing whatever you wanted him to. Your own masters had made you come here... made you use yourself as bait to lure just such a prize, true. But that was really just an excuse... It also sent your tender heart fluttering to watch someone else go through the same process you had. To revel in the nostalgic observation of someone giving up on every hang-up learned from a more civilised sense of self; in order to bask in the opening freedoms of caring only about other's unkempt desires.

This had all been your sister's idea, of course. Frustrated by the physical limitations that the fruits of your shared labours were having upon your 'success'. The tool shop sometimes had strangers near lining around the block, to rent out the very specific set of implements that had become its main attraction. Yet there were only so many cocks that you and her could handle at once... however good at multitasking with mouth, hands and feet you both had become. Her own swelling condition only adding further complications to the pot. So 'recruitment' had become a new game to play, and sending you into schools you weren't enrolled to; dressed in long white socks and a scandalously short skirt; had been the giggling ploy to do so.

In all honesty... you hadn't expected it to work. Wandering the halls and corridors of buildings you'd never entered before, trying to flash a little leg at likely targets while convinced any second you were going to be caught by some teacher. Yet, already you had two new recruits just begging to fall into Skeg and his compatriot's laps: Katie was a sharp-eyed brunette who had seemed to see through your disguise immediately, striking up a conversation between the stalls of the girl's bathroom after you had retreated there as all the real students headed off to classes. She'd worked out you didn't belong... but when she discovered the real reason you were there, simply offered her services immediately. It turned out she'd been after some way of earning extra cash outside of classes, and barely blinked at the idea of using her body to earn it. Unsurprisingly, she and your sister had become fast friends... a situation that unnerved you greatly.

And then there had been Terry. The pretty, doe-eyed creature who had began following you from a distance, as you appeared and disappeared in the churning crowds of another day's end. It had taken you longer than you'd like to admit to notice the timid creature stalking you, yet barely any time at all to steal his first kiss. The boy was smitten with simply the shape of you... and his surprise in learning that you couldn't really be his girlfriend, so-to-speak, did not seem to hamper the attraction at all. He seemed to see you as some fae and mystical being, from a realm outside of anything he knew. Everything you said to him was absorbed like holy scripture. Every skimpy outfit you wore the pinnacle of fashion to his eyes. Bringing him back to the flat to be fawned over and played with like a dress-up doll by Jenny and Nancy had felt like the greatest betrayal. All that followed was simply the unravelling thread of inevitability. He was your pet now... as much as you were only a chained and collared plaything yourself.

Chapter 7

The rotund older man grunted, cueing a surprised-sounding reply from Terry... and a glistening spurt across the eighteen year old cutie's features as he lost track of the hose he was slurping on. Dribbling beads of slime dotted themselves down from his short, dark fringe to his softly sharp chin. You almost sighed with delight at the sight of a face so suitably adorned, before remembering you were supposed to be teaching him to swallow down such gifts as any good slut would.

Once again the dichotomy of this role against your natural sense of place in the world was jarring and yet alluring. Your instructions were to craft this boy into just as pliable a plaything as yourself: desperate for the approval and arousal of anyone who'd offer such. The urge to sidle in and help him tend to your paying client was palpable, yet you knew he would learn better by tackling the task alone. You scraped a globule of cum away from his eyelashes to let him look up at you adoringly, then offered it for him to suck from your finger. The wet tickle of his tongue a delight in itself, as he diligently cleaned up the rest of the mess he'd made of himself.

Meanwhile, Mr Landsdale had tucked himself away and held out a scrunched up banknote as a tip, for you to squirrel away in the padding of your bra. He was in no hurry to hang around so close to the school, having just cum all over one of his own students. It was actually rather worrying how many of your regular clients turned out to be teachers. Not that Terry particularly seemed to even notice who you were having him pleasure each day.

So now you were left in the alleyway alone: One twenty year old dropout dressed like the cheap, sissy whore he was and one still-innocent schoolboy well on his way to becoming the same.

"Let's go buy you some clothes..." You sighed, remembering the instructions Skeg and Jenny had given. 'Take him in as a boy, bring him out as a bitch in heat!' The prospect of facing the checkout girls midway through such a process already giving you palpitations. Why did it have to be you doing all this?!

You knew the answer of course... It was because it would be making your dear sister wet to think about, as she struggled around the flat with that big, round belly. Maybe letting Rod or Dave get off using her swollen tits, but listening to the muffled sounds of Katie having a lot more fun downstairs. Getting pregnant hadn't been part of the master plan. She'd taken all the pills she was supposed to. It just turned out getting fucked nearly all day every day for a year and a bit meant there was a good chance one would fail. And while there were certainly a few customers who liked her even more like this... it certainly put limits on the appeal in both directions. What Jenny called 'accidental watersports' was a circumstance she was getting a little tired of.

What also was constantly rotting away in the back of your brain, of course... was who the father might be? You had certainly ejaculated in or around your sister a few times over the course of your new life together. Though not as often as every other Tom, Dick and Harry in the local area. Chances were heavily in Skeg and his two friend's favour, really. But there was still the ever-so-slim possibility that together you had cemented yourselves even further into the realms of taboo than your roles as sibling prostitutes already set you. What made it worse was the fact that it wasn't fear you felt at such a prospect, deep in the inner reaches of your soul. The obsessive, unhealthy lust you held for the girl you had shared a womb with had not decreased over all this time, and some part of you definitely saw the idea of having planted a baby in her as... wonderful. It sickened you to see the same kind of devotion in Terry, and understand so fully how trapped you both were.

He'd definitely impregnate you... if he could.

Chapter 8

As you left the alley and skirted around the various tennis and basketball courts at the back of the school, various gaggles of students were still hanging around. You could pick up vague snatches of whispered conversation as you passed, from those who clearly recognised Terry.

"Who's that with creepy T... his girlfriend?"

"I hear she's older... and a total slut..."

"She's gotta just be wringing money out of him or something right? For drugs and stuff?"

It was a long time since your own struggles through teenage sociability had bothered you. The idea that these gossiping strangers thought you were a young lady ready to spread her legs for a little cash wasn't going to upset you... after all: you basically were. In fact, since the money all went to Skeg and co anyway, they were missing the mark in more ways than one. You were just a submissive, crossdressing little whore. A slave to the whims of your sister and the extended family of perverts she had placed you both in the hands of. You liked being bent over, day after day and invaded by a new parade of strangers. You liked the various, small unsubtle ways your outward appearance now advertised just who and what you were: The pretty, entwining flowers that had been tattooed on your smooth inner thighs, always leading the eye up under whatever too-short shorts or skirt you were wearing. The pinch of a thong between your buttcheeks and light bounce of the glass gem dangling from your belly button.

You had come to terms with all that. Learned to revel in the sexy, sleazy honesty in which your outfits begged others to leer at you and so many were happy to oblige. Drew self-worth from the hungry way your friends and clients desired you as a plaything, where 'civilised' society had never made it half so simple. You were a walking, talking human sex-toy... and perfectly content to be so.

Turning Terry into the same though... that was different. You couldn't help but feel you were taking advantage of his love, much like those whisperers insinuated. Twisting him around your finger and then sliding it inside someone else. Sure that was sorta what had happened with you, too. But you and your twin's situation had been different, no? And she simply knew you better than you knew yourself.

All this echoed around your mind as you entered the department store and headed upstairs to find a quiet section where you wouldn't be disturbed. Terry clung to your arm in glee and excitement, clearly happy as anything to be trawling through the lingerie aisles with you. Even against all your doubts, some part of you was already undressing his slender form in your mind. Coming up with all sorts of ways you could make a pretty, young prostitute out of him. He was a doll... just like the ones you'd secretly played with whenever father's stern frown wasn't glaring through your childhood. Dressing him up was a game you couldn't help but have fun with.

The pair of you scuttled down the short corridor to a changing room with a whole armful of options, escaping the suspicious gaze of its attendant. There you finally found an alcove of enclosed safety where the threat of judging eyes seemed distant. Terry dropped his clothes to the ground without a second's thought, unveiling his slender form before you as if he had been just waiting to do so. His every inch was waxed smooth and hairless, courtesy of Katie and Jenny's giggling malice... and it was only in moments alone like this that you ever remembered that the boy was actually taller than you. Thin and long-limbed, where you actually mimicked some of your twin's curviness. His blind devotion so often had him on his knees before you, yet here he loomed above... naked and beautiful.

"A-are you sure you want to do this?" You asked, unsure who you were really posing the question too.

"Of course..." Smiled the boy who loved you. "I want to be everything you are!"

Chapter 9

One eighteen year old schoolboy and his wholly unsuitable escort had entered the store... but two giggling, little whores left it. Somehow you had ended up spending most of your time in that overly cozy booth making out. Terry had leaned in from above to say something... and you'd pulled him into a kiss. From there, there was only a pink, rosy haze as each of you helped each other in and out of a whole parade of scandalous, girly outfits. It had somehow become fun to figure out just how utterly obvious you could dress each other up as nothing but a treat for perverse eyes.

Tight, faux-leather skirts and boob-tubes. Skin-clinging denim shorts with thongs that rode out above. Free-flowing dresses with straps just made to fall from one shoulder or another. Form-fitting leggings and yoga pants for when you were just lounging around being screwed by Skeg and his friends. All these had been tools of your trade for so long that you'd almost forgotten the nervous thrill that blossomed across Terry's face every time he wriggled his emasculated form into them. Baggy trousers and oversized hoodies were the uniform that timid boys, like you both had been, could hide behind. But, to earn your keep as slaves to strangers lusts... a wholly more garish wardrobe was required. It almost seemed to drive you to wear the most skimpy and outrageous outfits you could, in fact. To detach yourself further from that forgotten other self, and make it clear that your appearance was only ever really for others enjoyment and consumption.

The checkout girl's stare was piercingly polite, as you unfurled a roll of loose notes from your bra. Ideas like 'bank accounts' and 'taxable income' were obviously kept a long way from the dirty side-streets Skeg's tool shop occupied. You honestly had no idea how much you and your sister earned each week, handing over your bodies to stranger after stranger. If you needed something... all you had to do was ask. Your landlord, employer and owner was always more than happy to provide. Which of course implied that whatever your needs cost, your clandestine earnings far outstripped them. It didn't matter. With a baby on the way and the 'business' expanding... you simply did not want to think about the admin of it all. You just wanted to suck the cock in front of you, with a hand on the next one waiting. Life was so much simpler that way.