The Day My Sister Tricked Me Ch. 11-12

Part Eleven:

I'm speckled in dirt, drenched in water, and in places where the two mixed, dripping in a muddy substance. The heels seemed the worst hit, so rather than make my sister mad, I decide to leave them in the hallway (I'd rather she stay happy, until I get proper clothes on at least!)

Still catching my breath after my wild escapade, I jump back to the living room, always aware of what little time I have left, and becoming more and more nervous by the minute. Sarah is busy tapping away on her phone when I enter. "Aaaaand, done!" she says, waving something back and forth. It's my bank card. She did exactly as she said she would, visited my room and plucked the card from my wallet before entering the details into her phone. That's 500 dollars down the drain right there. But even though that gives me a sour taste in my mouth, I suck it up because there are more pressing matters.

"Deal's a deal," I pant as I gesture for the shorts and shirt.

"Deal's a deal," she agrees. "But I want my clothes back if you're getting a new outfit"

"OK OK OK," I say impatiently. She can take 'em! I don't want to be stumbling around in heels like a new-born foal anymore, and quite frankly the bra and its wiry straps will be a welcome farewell. But, then it springs to mind what had happened earlier today in the kitchen; my sister told me to change and I almost did - on front of her! And that's when she first suspected I was enjoying all this, which didn't make her too happy. I don't want her thinking that again, so I realize I gotta be careful before I do anything dramatic like whip my panties off. But there's so little time! I need to remove my current clothes in order to get much better ones. So, do I? Don't I?

"Sarah, shouldn't I leave the room to change?". I thought it best to just openly ask her, not wanting make the wrong choice, nor waste time.

"No need," she responds, and I know at once she has something up her sleeve.

"I said you could earn your way into THESE..." (this time she simply gestures to her body, since her housecoat was already hanging open)... "but I never said you could earn your way out of THOSE". Her finger pointed down between my legs, where the panties continued to constrict me.

For a moment I wasn't sure what she meant and I panicked. "But I still get the shorts and shirt, right?!"

"Yes yes yes. But the panties don't come off. They remain under the shorts...", She leaned a little closer to me, "...just so you don't forget who's boss."

I feel sudden tension in the air after she says that. I don't like it when her voice goes low and her chirpy attitude disappears. It's a fake chirpy, but at least it's not real and scary. I simply nod at what she said. "Well then," She says, her peppy manner returning like the sun from behind a dark cloud, "Get stripping!" And of course I comply, automatically.

As I begin to remove the crop top, I realize Sarah didn't even comment on the fact that it's pretty damn wet. No doubt she's trying to come up with some snide remark about it. Either that, or she really doesn't care. I just hope she also won't care about her now muddy heels or the dirt splotches on her thigh-highs when she sees them. Honestly though, her friends will be here in less than a minute if I had to guess, so I push all concerns about dirty clothes to the back of my mind. I pull the crop top over my head. A tight squeeze for a tight top. "So pretty!" Sarah comments as I stand before her in a bra. I give a mild scowl, not being bold enough to do anything more, and carry on removing clothes. Why does she mock me in everything I do? Can she drop the snarkiness for even a moment? As creepy as he seemed, I bet the stranger in the car would have at least given me that compliment WITHOUT the sarcasm.

I try to place the top down as neatly as my time constraint will allow (I don't want to give her any reason to get mad at me) before moving on to the next item of clothing. I snap the choker off with a sigh of relief and place it on top of the pink "SELFIE" crop top. Good riddance! Next, I begin to remove the bra. I'm reaching around to try and undo the clasp but it's frustratingly defiant. The tiniest smirk flickers on Sarah's lips for a split second. I get mad and that only makes it harder to get the bra off. I feel a redness surface on my face, anger and embarrassment. "So pretty!" Her words echo in my head, sarcasm and all. Screw her. Not my fault I don't have perky, perfectly round breasts to fill this bra. How can she expect me to look anything but stupid in something that barely fits me? Reduce the cups and account for a slightly wider shoulder, then we'll talk. She gave me this thing knowing it would make me look ridiculous. UGH.

My fingers are aching as I blindly twist at the puzzle on my back, still unable to undo it. I feel like a God-damn toy soldier trying to get himself moving by turning his wind-up key. Time seems to drag on and on, the moment seemingly lasting forever. My struggle hits a new level of embarrassment when I suddenly realize how much of an unexperienced fool I must look if I don't know how to undo a girl's bra. Great, now my sister thinks (knows) I don't undo girl's bras on the regular. NOT that I'd be trying to impress my sister in that regard, but--

CLICK. The bra finally comes undone. With a frustrated shake I get it off my shoulders. I feel free. Now its a guy's upper body and there's no denying it. That feels good to think about. My mind jumps back to before this day began, when I was a man, who dressed like a man and acted like a man. Then I look down and realize I still have my thigh-highs tight around my skinny legs, and a forest green triangle of lace that won't be going anywhere any time soon.

I carry on stripping down as my sister loses focus and begins to examine her nails and the job I did on them (she mutters something about me needing more practice if I want to be a stripper, but I just ignore it). I get the socks off easily enough, and I feel a little colder. Damn, I had gotten used to their warmth. And their comfort. They were probably the only things that weren't all bad! But now they were added to the pile, with top and choker and bra. I stood before Sarah in a pair of lacy underwear and nothing else. I feel even more exposed than ever before, but the promise of normal clothing gives me hope. That's partially why I stripped so quickly; the sooner I got out of that whore's get-up, the sooner I'd be dressed plainly and not hyper-femininely.

But of course, my sister has to crush my hopes, because that's what Sarah does:

"Now," she says, taking the clothes from the couch and sliding them into our little ottoman storage box, "Wouldn't it be absolutely hilarious if I just left you like that?"

I look down at my body. Like this?! In just panties?! I don't exactly have the manliest physique; I'm certainly not the type to go flaunting around shirtless whenever the sun comes out, no thanks! I wouldn't be comfortable walking around in just shorts, let alone panties! Short and skinny compared to most guys I know, virtually no body hair, a little too thin at the shoulders for my liking, and a little too wide at the hip... I didn't agree to this! Suddenly, I picture myself standing before all Sarah's friends like this. I visualize them as they laugh and snap pictures of me and tease me with a towel or a blanket just out of my reach, begging me to try and grab for it to cover myself up, before they yank it out of range and laugh some more. In my vision of terror, I try to run from the sinister friends but there's nowhere to go, and they all see my ass wobble and my hips sway as I move. Still laughing, they crowd around me, behind me, and I can't keep my eyes on them all, no matter how much I spin round. I'm trapped, like a go-go dancer in a cage, confined and made perform for their amusement. I get dizzy as I keep turning, not wanting anyone to see my butt in panties. I look like a girl from behind... so I want everyone on front of me. But then, as if out of nowhere, a hand comes from behind and lashes my poor, exposed ass. It hits so hard my tiny feet lift off the ground, and I know it's the type of smack to leave a mark. And the hand lingers there on my cheek too, huge and firm, and it GRIPS the pudgy flesh in a vicious appreciation for its fatness. The hand is followed by a figure that comes up from the behind and towers over me, and I feel like it's claimed me. "Hey," it says in a deep voice of what I can only imagine is one of Sarah's male friends, "You look like you'd be a lot of fun". Almost in reaction, some feeling, a weird new one, a not unpleasant mix of excitement and fear, begins to grow within me. It pushes up into me, hard and firm. "Feels good, doesn't it?" says the voice... And as quickly as that, feelings that I recognize step in; shame... pride... frustration... denial? And they push the new feeling and its figure away. Right after, the friends dissolve, and I'm back in the living room.

My eyes dart away from my body. I look up at Sarah. She can't truly wish for me to stay dressed like this. "Sarah!" I say in a panicked tone. "Please, I-"

"Oh, shut up!" she says dismissively. She had been looking at her phone again, not even realizing that I zoned out. "I was kidding, jeez. Don't get your panties in a bunch"

"No really, don't", she adds, "those things are uncomfortable enough as it is"

Oh, she was kidding. Thank God! I will be able to cover up. Happiness floods me more than it had all day, and whatever thoughts I had just daydreamed become quickly forgotten.

I have to keep the panties on. So be it. Not like it's a big deal. Things are looking up. I will FINALLY be chilling in shorts and a t-shirt, and my sister can remain on her stupid power-trip by making me keep the panties on. Yawn, I've certainly been through worse!

And even though she just mentioned how uncomfortable the panties were, in all honestly, they weren't uncomfortable at all. They hadn't been this whole time. Not when I was changing, not when I was sprinting through the lawn. Not since... not since I took that kick. My cock got small and I hadn't taken a look at it since I tucked it away last. It was tinier than I had ever seen it then (or... was it always that small? No, surely not) and ever since I had hidden it away it hadn't grown or threatened to break out. My cock hadn't twitched in reaction to anything, nor had my balls itched or begged for readjustment in the tiny panties. If I didn't know any better, I'd argue my manhood disappeared - I was almost afraid to look! But at the very least, I quickly glance down between my legs; it looks flat as a pancake down there. It looked like I had no dick or balls at all, and with how comfortable the panties were, it felt like I had nothing either.

Screw it, my dick has literally done nothing but get me in trouble so far anyway, so if he wants to go into hiding, let him! I jokingly think about how my cock might have called it quits after having been through so much. And in any case, comfort is a lot better than bulging agony. With my dick off my mind, and a pair of comfy shorts on my mind, I turn to my sister and ask her to hand 'em over! (in a much, much more polite manner of course. Are you mad?)

But then, there's a knock on the door.

"Yay!" Sarah screeches, "Jessica's here!"

My face turns pale. I just asked my sister for the clothes, but now I am left wondering whether she will answer the door first and let her friend in, or let me dress first.

***

When my sister doesn't immediately run to the front door, I realize luck was on my side! For once!

I eagerly wait for her the slide the shorts off and hand them over. When I see she's not doing that, and she is instead slowly tying up the front of her housecoat, the impatience becomes very clear on my face.

"What?" she says, as if adjusting her housecoat is a number one priority.

I want to scream at her to hurry up, but I know better and calmly say, "I think the shorts are more important than your housecoat looking nice and neat"

Then Sarah responds, "Sorry bro, I don't exactly feel like showing you my pussy right now"

The words took a long moment to register. The meaning of the words took a longer moment.

"You mean you're not wearing--"

"Yes," she says impatiently, "God. What's the big deal?"

She reaches up under the now tied-up housecoat, and with both hands yanks her sporty shorts down. I hear the soft whisper of fabric along her skin as they squeeze over her thighs. The moment they are passed the knee she lets go and they drop to her ankles. A pair of legs large above the knee, and elegantly long below, with a pristine transition from one to the other. Talk about being big in all the right places...

She unceremoniously kicks the shorts at me. I scramble for them - if I could get even these on I'd look normal. A guy walking around his own house shirtless in shorts looks perfectly fine, albeit not personally ideal. I step into them instantly and begin to pull them up. I'm surprised by the softness and pleased by the subtle perfumey scent, but in virtually every other regard they could pass for one of my own. Once they reach my waist, I'm glad to feel no extreme tightness. They are not baggy by any means however, and the biggest problem might be the fact that they are VERY short. But, I'll take 'em, and gladly wear them... and try not to acknowledge the fact they were right over my sister's bare skin mere seconds ago...

I look back at my sister, actually about to thank her for the shorts. But she seems to be awkwardly squirming before me, her face screwed up in concentration and one of her arms inside her housecoat. I realize that she is trying to remove her top without removing the housecoat... she must not have a bra on either.

There's another knock at the door. "Oh, screw it" she says, "I don't have time for this"

She hitches her housecoat off one shoulder, then the other. The upper half of her garment hangs down over the bottom half, leaving it looking like a fancy, frilly, overly-intricate skirt. From the waist up, she's just wearing the white top.

And then, she's not.

She had it lifted over her head in an instant. Almost instinctually, my eyes dart down, away from the sight. In my peripheral vision I can see her, a vague shape of golden-brown, and I know she is standing there with no fucking top on. But, I CANNOT be seen even glancing at those things. She would destroy me. I study the floor boards, then my feet, doing anything to distract myself from looking up. The moment seems to drag on forever, and I begin wiggling my toes to distract myself. I don't dare move my eyes toward her, but my vision catches the shadows as she flicks her long hair back and forth. No doubt lifting the top over her head messed her hair up a bit... but I can't help but think about how THEY moved as she shook her hair around. Did THEY move back and forth too? "Stop it" I tell myself. My mind can't go there... wiggle your toes, wiggle your toes.

Then, a white thing comes sliding along the floorboards and stops before my eyes. I'm still a little dazed, but I grab the top and practically dive into it, without looking anywhere else but down.

I find myself staring forward once I pop my head through the hole of the shirt. But by the time I see her, my sister is pulling the housecoat up to cover a shoulder, the other already covered. Her body is concealed once more, and I didn't see a thing.

Before I know it, she's passed me. "I'm coming!" she shouts, and rushes to the front door.

I'm left alone in the living room. I readjust my new top and note that it's not too bad at all. It looked short on my sister, but there's probably because it had to stretch over those... those perky, perfectly round breasts...

The same breasts I was such a bitch to ignore. Am I THAT afraid of her, that I wouldn't even look at something without permission? What has she done to me? I don't think I will ever get a chance like that again. I should have looked. I should glanced up, I should have risked it.

My thoughts are interrupted by noise at the front door, as Sarah and her best friend screech an annoying, "HEYYYYYYYY" in unison.

Great, now there's two of them.

Part Twelve:

Sarah steps back into the living room a moment later, followed by Jessica. The girl greets me in just as enthusiastic a manner she did Sarah. I choose not to give a girly screech back, but instead retort with a casual, "Hey". With shoulder-length brunette hair and big brown eyes, she was also a really pretty girl. Although more so cute where my sister was sexy, both were generally regarded as hot by most guys. She always smiled a bright smile, and today was no exception. It was adorable enough to almost (almost!) make me forget that this was the same girl that sent the original video of me smoking - the girl that helped get me into this mess in the first place! But I don't know how significant a role she played in all this, or how much she knows, so I try not to mentally put the blame on her. Besides, she has always come off as really innocent (having super Christian parents does that to a girl; they say every guy has tried to do stuff with her, and not one has gotten anywhere). On top of her generally agreed-upon innocence, that smile does make a guy kinda soften up to her... so sure, she's in my good books for now.

As she chats with me, still smiling her bright smile, I'm hoping she doesn't notice anything askew, as literally seconds ago my sister and I were topless in the same room - that would be a hard one to explain! Fortunately she doesn't seem the least bit suspicious of any strange goings-on. She asks me how I am and I play it cool, telling her I didn't get up to much all morning (now, there's a lie!). I ask her how she is and I listen intently, because quite frankly even the way she speaks is cute. Then, without me ever bringing it up, she starts apologizing over the video.

"I didn't even know you were in it, I'm so sorry!" she explains, and I can actually hear in her voice she was distraught over it. "I was actually sending your sis a Snap of Luke because he..." She looks down, suddenly shy, and quickly says, "because he was really cute with his new haircut and..." (looking back up) "I didn't know you were in the background! Honestly! But, your sister promised not to say anything! Right, Sarah?" Flustered, the girl turns to face her friend.

My heart was caught in my throat during her brief explanation. I was half-expecting her to threaten to out me to my parents herself, and give me her own list of chores. But nope, things took a completely different turn in the form of a heartfelt apology. And as I think about what she told me, I realize that it actually adds up. That guy Luke hangs out behind the school too, a fellow smoker. I'm not close friends with him or anything, but we've often given each other a cigarette or lent each other a lighter. It truly seems Jessica never had evil intentions in all this, she just got caught up in it. I honestly feel bad for her, and decide to answer before Sarah could:

"Yeah, Sarah said she won't say anything," I lie. "She told me she'd keep it a secret. Didn't you, Sarah?" I look over to my sister, who's been standing there scowling at mine and Jessica's chit-chat. I hope she will at least have the decency to play along, and spare the poor girl some stress; there's no point in making her feel guilty for my sister's actions.

Sarah stares at me, angry. I noticed her glasses were removed when she had walked back into the room; now, I could see where she was looking, and after throwing me a death-stare, her eyes turn to the ottoman where my girly outfit hides, and linger there for a second. I know what she's trying to tell me, that if I try to mess with her she will reveal all that happened. Jessica seemed blissfully unaware of the the subtle threat.