Submitting With Sister Pt. 02

The outfits that you and Terry had ended up in were two matching glittery crop tops: one gold, one silver. Below that were a pair of tight and oh-so-short miniskirts, slit down the side to show as much sleek, shaven leg as possible. These were combined with fishnet stockings and the customary stripper heels to leave no doubt at all what kind of glances you might draw. You had spent a good fifteen minutes on your apprentice-in-whoring's make-up, the kind of up-close delicate attention that clearly sent him mad with desire for you. By the time you were done you were positive that no-one who didn't know precisely where to look would have any idea that your two, slim forms were actually masculine by birth. The thrill of basking in femininity still tingling beneath your skin as much as it ever did.

You could see the same excitement in Terry, even by the way he walked. The sultry sway he tried to put into his hips, despite still clumsily coming to terms with pavements balanced beyond stiletto heels. You didn't quite know where you stood, upon the grand and complex graphs of sexuality. Didn't know if you were actually some glaring insult to those born with wombs or unfairly left without. Personal identity was not something you registered as a facet of your very existence, since you had handed the reins over to others more interested. You lived as a girl because your various masters and mistresses wanted you too. That was all there was to it. The clients you served wanted something soft and squeaky and delicate to bounce upon their laps, so that was what you gave them. The tool to fit their needs, rented right from the shelf.

It was thinking these thoughts that you turned down the street that led towards the shop. Walking arm in arm with Terry through the dirty, trash-strewn neighbourhood. Always keeping one eye open for creeps, perverts and weirdos... although perhaps only to offer a sweet smile towards the ones you recognised. You were part of the scenery around here now, after all. Offered a kiss on the cheek or a cigarette by the other 'girls of the night' you might pass. Given the occasional squeeze on the ass by people who knew you... or some that just wanted to. This was an ecosystem that you had been thoroughly entrenched in now. One that ran endlessly on back-alley exchanges of cash or drugs or bodily fluids. Your innocent companion stared out at it from behind false lashes with perhaps the same excitement and terror that you once had... but to you it just felt like sanctuary. The rules and restrictions of the 'real' world held no sway here. No-one was shocked or tutting about the amount of flesh you had on display. No cops might come questioning who you were and where you lived. This was the street that you were meat upon. This was home.

Chapter 10

Arriving at the tool shop, there were two dishevelled-looking figures waiting for you; either side of the counter.

Katie was leaning on her elbows, wearing nothing but a loose set of denim dungarees. One of the straps had fallen from her shoulder, completely baring a small, round breast to the world at large. Perhaps somewhere in the world it would be considered suspicious or at the very least, unprofessional, to have a barely-dressed teenager manning your business's front of house. You'd lost all fears for the need of subtlety around here though... if a visitor didn't already know what your shop actually sold, they'd find no-one to complain to who'd care.

Across from her, waiting patiently, stood a familiar, gaunt figure... albeit looking more out of sorts than ever. His once-fine suit looked like it hadn't seen a dry cleaner in months. Great bags were showing under his eyes and his hair stuck out at all angles, grey stubble lining sharp cheekbones.

"There you are, Jo..." Breathed an exasperated sounding Katie. "This one's been waiting for an hour. Wouldn't even leave and come back..."

The second part was stated with a needling sideways glance at the man in question, not that he seemed to notice at all. He simply stared at you with pitiably hungry eyes, like a puppy waiting for the can to be opened. You sighed heavily, but passed your bags of newly purchased lingerie over to Terry; indicating that he should take them up to the flat.

"You sure you don't want some... help?" Asked the taller, younger crossdresser, eyeing the customer with something between suspicion and jealousy. The overprotectiveness of this boy you were leading astray was... cute. But this was a weekly chore you had to face alone. Even Jenny called you an idiot for putting up with it.

You assuaged his worries with a kiss and a slight rummage beneath the hemline of his skirt, then led the way toward the back room.

Your father stood over you, staring into the middle distance, as you freed his cock from its zipper and confines. He still barely even looked at you in any of these sessions, despite coming back every single week like clockwork. You tried to concentrate on the task of sucking and stroking, rather than listening to the usual spiel of self-pitying misery.

"Juliana's moving in with her personal trainer... her lawyer says she's pushing for half the house."

Throughout all these interactions since he'd first found you, your parent had never referred to his wife as 'your mother'. Never acknowledged that the pretty, little whore he kept a date with every week was his own son. Yet he'd tell you all the comings and goings in their failing marriage. The nose-dive that his career had taken. Let you know just how much everything had fallen apart since you and your sister had ran away.

As you bent forward over the bed and presented your ass enticingly you couldn't help but wonder if there was something in this weekly exchange which affected you both. Some draining of spirit from one vessel into another when he buried that thick phallus which had first produced you, deep into your well-practised rectum. For you had only ever become more comfortable and confident in this life you were leading, every time you received this donation of incestuous flesh. Every time he paid for the pleasure of screwing his own child that he'd spent so many years trying to shape into someone else. The house and home you had abandoned was falling apart... and you felt nothing for them anymore. You were done with that life. All you could offer was a nice, warm hole for your parent to bury all his sorrows in.

After five minutes or so of heaving and grunting, your father came inside you once again. You supposed you could keep track of how many times that had happened by now, just by counting back the weeks since he'd first appeared in the shop. But why bother? It was just another bellyful of ejaculate among the many others you'd receive: each and every day. You were a cumbucket for all such lost and prideful men. Those who could not feel fulfilled in themselves without creeping down to this dirty, old tool shop and ploughing themselves into the little drops of sweetness that resided here. You were a receptacle for all their pent up inadequacies, that was what had slowly become clear. Squeaking and panting and gasping as the pleasure of their rude entries overcame you. You provided some short pretence that they were worth what they imagined they should be.

That was a charity you were happy to grant, as your parent pulled himself free of you. But your relationship ended in that small transaction. He would clean himself up and disappear off to one high-class bar or another. You would lie there for a moment longer, and feel his seed cooling inside your colon. Another week passed. Another step away from your childhood.

Chapter 11

You clambered your way out from the back room of the shop, thighs trembling a little from the aftermath of today's taboo invasion. It didn't matter how regularly your lower colon received guests these days... the intensity of the experience and jelly-legged response was always the same. You supposed that was why you found yourself quite so addicted, like how eating spicy food drew you back to face the same delicious pain, time and time again. There was no longer any doubt in your mind as to whether you were simply playing the slut for the benefit of others. Being pounded into the never-cleaned-regularly-enough bedsheets of that cramped, sweaty fuckpit was something you craved after every minute it wasn't happening.

Emerging behind the counter, you found Katie still holding her position... waiting for the next hungry customer wanting to claim her. From here you could see the trail of creamy fluids already dribbling out from under the cutoff shorts of her outfit and down her inner leg. No wonder she was slouching so. It must have been quite the busy afternoon since you went to pick up Terry. Not for the first time, you wondered just why this nearly-graduated highschooler had so immediately agreed to put herself in this position. She didn't seem like a slave to some deep, submissive urges. She wasn't lost in love with someone she really shouldn't be. Nor was she running away from a home that sought only to break her. The girl caught the bus home every day to a normal suburban home, having cleaned up any evidence that she'd skipped out on half her classes to instead erotically service a parade of unknown perverts. Sure, she also earned a back pocket full of badly crumpled banknotes... but there had to be more to it than that, right?

You gave her a hug from behind, still bathing in the glowing warmth of receiving another man's climax inside you. There was a certain feminine camaraderie that came with all of you being laid out and screwed side by side, day in, day out. It made you all feel like sisters, to a degree. Whether Katie acknowledged that connection as well, you weren't sure... but she accepted the hug and a little bit of booby-fondling nonetheless. Body autonomy was certainly not recognised around here at any rate. Anything that could be grabbed and played with: was fair game.

Progressing up to the flat, you weren't at all surprised to hear the familiar sounds of moans and gurgles coming from within your place of residence. The door was left ajar and it would seem Terry hadn't got five paces before being made to kneel down and take his second throatful of man-meat since leaving school that afternoon. Rod nodded to you jovially, not pausing for a moment in his pistoning against your devoted young protege. Over on the couch, your sister was being similarly put upon. Skeg was astride her chest, thrusting between her swollen breasts as she squeezed them together to provide a tight corridor for him.

There was no sign of Dave, so you assumed he was off baby-sitting for Nancy. The bond that giant man had already formed with the inbred daughter of his two close friends was sort of beautiful. That baby was raised in a sheltered world of love and harmony, far from this sordid chaos which had both spawned and supported her. Skeg seemed to have settled more into the role of grandfather, than father for her... living apart from his offspring come lover, yet showering the little creature with gifts whenever he could. It was sort of strange to think... how naturally you'd all formed an extended family around that babbling little bundle of joy, despite the fucked-up other side to all your relationships. It gave you hope for your sister's child-to-be: that he or she might yet be able to live a relatively normal life. Raised by a whole collective of aunts and uncles... with no hint of what they all got up to, behind closed doors.

You said your hellos and put away the shopping. Not put out in the slightest by all the sexual activity you had to weave between. Every day was the same. This flat was simply a den of debauchery, and you'd feel strange if it ever seemed different. You'd cook dinner and then wash it down with the flavour of another penis or another, snuggled up with Terry as you each shared that perpetual task. Life was easy when all you had to look out for was the next lump of meat to grab hold of. Nothing was so cozy as feeling another cock you recognised slide inside you without a hint of friction or hesitation. That was the realisation you'd come to, in accepting this role in life forever. That was true happiness... for a little, crossdressing whore like you.

Chapter 12

Much later that evening, you were walking Terry home through the quiet darkness of a city not-quite sleeping. Shadows moved in the darkness and the breeze whispered between your shaven thighs, making you really feel rather exposed and vulnerable.

Up ahead though, your fellow crossdresser didn't seem perturbed at all. He was practicing walking in high-heels. Making sure to wiggle his little rump seductively from side to side in a pornographic pastiche of how most women actually walked. Everything he knew of sex and love now revolving around that dirty flat and everything that went on in there. It seemed so wrong and yet... Even you had to admit how pretty a little whore he made. How fast it made your heartbeat to see him on his knees with all that innocence and naivety on display. It was terrible to know how horny it made you: to see him being twisted and corrupted as you had. To watch the blooming colour in his cheeks as you remembered how it had felt to back there yourself; first learning what you now knew as everything.

"Are you sure you're still okay... with everything they do to us?" You asked, trying desperately to escape the sway of those hips as they pulled upon your eyes.

Terry turned to look at you over his shoulder, a coy, coquettish excitement on his painted face.

"Yes! It's amazing! I wish I didn't ever have to leave!"

The honesty on his face was both pure and white as snow. The beautiful creature's joy and innocence so contrasted to the sordid hours which had inspired it. Flashes back to lying on the carpet next to him; both of you with knees up near your shoulders as two much-older men drove themselves inside you; came over in a wave. All the times you had kissed him, rolling in the aftermath of feeling Skeg and co come inside you both. Feeling their semen drip slowly out of your asses.

"I could spend all day, everyday being their little plaything... if it meant I was doing it with you!"

The love and adoration burned bright in his gaze, too bright to be refused. You pressed your lipstick against his own, as tongues tangled within. Just at that moment a car full of drunken young men rolled past, wolf-whistling and slowing down to admire your embrace. Yet you could barely hear their convincement that they had stumbled across the cutest lesbian couple around. All you could do is wrap yourself around him and explore every inch of his mouth you could.

Once the car had driven on, he finally pulled away from you for a moment... leaving your lips still stinging out for more.

"The only person who hasn't fucked me all month... is you!" He plucked up the courage to state, the hurt plain in his eyes. "Not since they got you to take my virginity... all those weeks ago..."

It was true; you hadn't. Hadn't felt your own meagre meat inside of him in all the time he had been properly introduced to the flat. Had tried to block out the memory of his tightness clenching around you as your own sister gently pushed your back into every thrust. Twisted delight shining in her eyes as she sent your penis into one of the only other bodies it had ever entered, save hers and Nancy's. As always, it was her word that had finally got you to invade your doting follower so. Your devotion to her every lurid delight still as strong as it ever was.

But now... now you could no longer resist what lay in the unsettled depths of your servile heart. The boy had made a request, plain as day. You could no longer hold back on everything your body yearned for, pressed up so close against his.

Chapter 13

You dragged him to a nearby phonebox, just for some vague sense of shelter. The walls were clear perspex, bathed in the mouldy yellow light of street lamps... but at least there was enough graffiti and flyers pasted across them to obscure some view of the interior. It was a grimy, claustrophobically tight space, which only drove you to cling even tighter to the femboy angel you had dragged in with you. A thousand dirty messages and declarations of love had been scratched into every surface available, but your eyes caught one almost immediately: It recommended a certain tool shop and gave precise instructions on how to order up 'the tightest boipussy around'. A strange pride lit up in your chest to be so publicly reviewed and advertised. It drove you yet further into the whirlwind of your own horniness.

You pulled up on Terry's microskirt and down upon the silken panties beneath, dropping them to tangle around his knocking-together knees far below. Your own matching outfit received similar treatment as the aching erection you had been desperately hiding was finally released from its effeminate prison. You ran hands across his smooth, bubbling rear and reached around to find a similar staff waiting... swollen by the thought of what you were about to do to him. One finger slipped up inside the teen, just to check his readiness. A twitch in his cock and moan in your ear told you all you needed to know, the taller sissy simply needed you inside him, here and now.

The embrace of his rectum was a soft grasp of warm welcome. You could immediately feel the presence of other men's leavings, and the adjustments Terry's body had made to accommodate much bigger tools than yours. Still, his eagerness to absorb you completely was physical and apparent. His slim body sucked you in to the hilt, craving every centimetre of love you could offer. In some ways it felt so strange... to be the wrong side of this equation, but doing it with your veritable apprentice in sluttery sent everything topsy turvy. It was almost as if you were fucking yourself, in a way... the scantily dressed mirror of all you had become. That was what drove you mad with lust, watching the gradual corruption of this beautiful boy: the chance to masturbate over your own identical fall from grace, from a different angle. You loved what you both had become... as much as it worried you you shouldn't. Sex and shame and sucking cock were all that interested you, anymore. Terry was just a doll that you could play with too, even as you were for the others.

The taller femboy pressed his hands against the cold, smearing perspex. The hot breath pouring from both of you condensating on every surface. You could feel the leftover liquids from Skeg and Rod and Dave, sloshing around your own flesh with each thrust inside him... Along with the occasional drip still escaping down your own thighs from all this exertion. It gave the sense that you were all still trapped in that endless orgy, wherever you might go. There was no escaping what they'd left in you, what they'd made of you. Even out here together... you were both just property of others. Terry's girlish moans reverberated around the enclosed space, making you feel like you were screwing a whole choir of shapely femboys. Your hand remained gripped upon his own shaft, echoing the movements inside him. With every twitch and throb, you could tell just how excited it made him. Just how long he had been aching to experience this connection with you once more. The boy-made-whore adored having you buried in his deepest trenches, and would wait patiently for a thousand years... pleasuring every stranger who came along... just to get another chance to feel that.