This is a modern AU with Chris and Claire being twins instead of being six years apart.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: All characters are 18+ and will definitely be different to their actual game counterparts.
Plus if you're into incest, I'd strongly advise you not to read it! So read at your own risk.
…
Chapter 1: Punching Bag
…
Chris Redfield was a nineteen year old senior in his final year of high-school. Yes, nineteen. It wasn't that he had failed a year or two, but being born in England his family had traveled extensively throughout Europe before at last settling down in Raccoon City, Arklay County, USA. Due to a lack of stable education, he had been forced by the school administration to repeat a grade and so would be graduating late. Just a week ago Chris had celebrated his nineteenth birthday, and though it was a point of embarrassment that he was the oldest student at McGill High, he contented himself by looking at the young, hot schoolgirls running around in the hallways, classrooms, and sports-fields...
On this fine summer day Chris was in science class, busy dabbling with mixtures of chemicals as a Bunsen burner flamed below. He held a glass beaker in his hand, examining the green liquid inside with squinted eyes.
"Hey, Chris," said Leon, his friend. "Chris! Check out Ada Wong there. You see her? Look how hot she looks today." As usual, when Leon said this he'd nudge Chris in the ribs with his elbow. He waited for a response till—
"What!" Chris hissed angrily. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
But Leon didn't notice his friend's glaring eyes; rather, his own gaze was focused towards the top left corner of the brightly lit room. He stared transfixed at the beautiful eighteen year old vixen, his mouth hanging open in a look of idiotic perversion.
Leon was tall for his age, around 5'11, 165 pounds with pale skin, mid-length, slightly dark blonde hair with a lengthy top and short sides, and a sharp face, and though he was actually quite handsome for his age Leon's poor choice of fashion made him look quite unhandsome. This afternoon he was dressed in his usual somber colours, a gray t-shirt and dark blue jeans.
Chris on the other hand was 6'1 and 220 pounds, with short brown hair, eyes of vivid blue, and white skin. He was both tall and muscular with an air of solemn darkness—an attractive quality in any man—but due to a debilitating shyness around the opposite sex Chris had yet to lose his virginity.
Perhaps his greatest defect was a lack of confidence in himself. This could be seen by Chris's loose shoulders, his in-eloquence near the presence of women, or the way his hair was styled. Much like Leon, Chris also possessed a dreadful sense of fashion, spending most days wearing a red t-shirt with blue jeans. It was no different today.
As Chris turned his eyes to where Leon was looking he noticed Ada Wong, one of the hottest girls in school, chatting with a group of her friends. She had a black bob cut that fell in a single wave to her lower back, shimmering jade-green eyes, pink lips usually bright with lip-gloss, and a lean figure that could only be described with that old cliché: hour-glass. That is to say, her petite shoulders sloped downward to her hips, which then inclined and spread out into her long, gorgeous legs.
Quite aware of her feminine charms Ada usually wore tight, form-fitting outfits which displayed her stunning body (such as the pink top and black mini-skirt she had on today) and though her breasts were but medium-sized, the way Ada's pink top hugged against those two youthful globes made them seem all the larger and more delicious. And as often happened in cases with a girl this beautiful, Ada Wong was also a total bitch.
"Yeah," said Chris without looking at Leon, "she is hot. Like you, I've fantasized about banging her—but unlike you, I'm convinced I got no chance."
Leon slapped his friend's shoulder. "Come on, man! We can always dream can't we?" Sighing, he went on: "But I guess you're right...We can never get a girl like that. Hell, maybe my standards are too high, but when I finally do a girl I hope she looks half as good as Ada." He considered a moment. "...Think it'll work if I just went up and asked her on a date?" Chris's face revealed his skepticism. "Yeah, I know: she's really into those macho dudes from the football team. It's so—so..."
Leon was groping for the right word, his fist hammering his palm over and over in mute frustration. Chris volunteered an answer: "Cliché?"
"Yes! Exactly that" Leon shouted, so loud that the students in the classroom jumped at the sound. Several heads turned to stare in dumb astonishment at the two friends before turning back to their science projects. It took awhile for the murmurs to die down.
"I know what you mean," Chris whispered leaning toward his friend. "It really is cliché. And it pisses me off to know girls like that will always end up going out total assholes then turn around and moan and bitch about it when they get dumped. And you know they'll get dumped because the guys on the football team are all fucks."
"What about your sister there?" asked Leon.
"What!" hissed Chris.
Waving his arms in a comical effort to placate his friend, a nervous Leon quickly corrected himself. "No! No! That's not what I meant! What I mean is: what about your sister there, talking with Ada? Isn't she one of the in-crowd? She's one of them...right?"
Chris looked to where Ada Wong was having a busy conversation with three of her closest friends, one of which was his twin sister. The group of four, including Claire Redfield, were laughing and gesturing with their hands in the typical girlish manner, quite heedless of their frothing science experiment below.
It wasn't hard to guess that Leon had been infatuated with Claire ever since meeting her years ago at Chris's house. In fact, he would make any excuse just to go over and check her out even though the chances of Leon actually bedding any of them were zero.
As Chris watched the four girls converse between themselves he felt nothing but scorn. He hated them with every fiber of his being: these were the same four girls that had abused and belittled him throughout high school, making his existence a living hell. And most of all he despised his sister—the ringleader of this bitch circus—and the one who had emotionally tortured him since childhood. She was the reason Chris felt so inferior, with her daily insults regarding Chris's lack of social life or how he was doomed to remain a virgin forever.
Because of Claire, all women seemed intimidating.
Fucking whores, Chris muttered to himself, I hate everyone of them. Wish that damn beaker would explode and mess up their pretty little faces…
As much as Chris craved to see his sister in agony, the truth was that he felt attracted to Claire. He knew she was beautiful. At 5'6 and ½, Claire had dark red hair, and in wave after silky wave it dropped to the middle of her back. It was the kind of hair that bounced with every step she took, the kind of hair which seemed all the more radiant under the correct lighting. Claire's delicate face—lean and with high cheekbones—was composed of the smoothest curves, vivid blue eyes, and full pink lips. In short, it was the face of an enchantress.
It's a crime, thought Chris. It's disgusting! Why does such a stuck-up bitch have to look so hot?
Claire turned and playfully slapped Ada's arm, revealing a pair of firm, medium-sized breasts held by a snug-fitting black top. And what a pair they were. Pressed tightly together into the confines of her bra, Claire's creamy tits bulged over the rim of her black v-neck and thus presented a highly-defined valley of cleavage. In fact, each lush globe was packed in so close that Claire's chest seemed all the fuller and more massive, the upper half of the fleshy spheres visible above the margins of her bra while the bottom half lay concealed.
Chris's eyes roved over his sister's breasts, noting how the black top emphasized Claire's fair skin and squeezed against every line of her figure, before at last tapering down into her toned and slender waist.
Fuck, thought Chris, she has the body of a supermodel...
One of the students next to Claire's table dropped a pencil. At first glance, the event seemed trivial, but Chris watched as the boy slowly kneeled to the floor and picked it up, and then his motives became clear: instead of getting to his feet right away the boy seemed to linger on the ground, running his hungry stare up and down Claire's exquisite legs.
Chris had seen this often: whenever his sister roamed through the hallways every male student would secretly admire her from their locker, waiting for her to pass just so they could catch a glimpse of her strutting behind. Hell, Chris had even seen the male teachers take an occasional peek.
And there was a good reason for that.
The contours of his sister's naked legs—so long and sleek in the afternoon light—were accented by the pink miniskirt she wore: it hugged against her full thighs, defining their seductive curvature and ending a few inches above the knees. With a giggle, Claire turned her back to Chris and continued chatting with her friends. As she did so, the miniskirt of pink leather stretched tighter across the round and supple cheeks of her derriere, highlighting each separate buttock and the cleft that lay between.
Chris felt a stirring in his pants. He couldn't believe just how amazing his sister's ass was, though he was quite sure all the male students had dreamed of sinking their cocks into it at some point.
No matter how much he tried to repress such indecent feelings, Chris constituted that large crowd of horny male teenagers that found Claire to be at once revolting and attractive. As her brother, Chris knew he should never ponder anything so monstrous, but it was all true, no matter how much he tried to drive such wicked ideas from his mind.
In fact, the two women in his family were hot: they were both English-origin beauty queens. And to live with them was nothing short of torture. Chris knew this because he would often walk around with a painful erection pressed against his jeans, a state which came about shortly after seeing Claire emerge from a steaming shower wrapped in nothing but a bath towel. Then there were times his flaccid cock would jump to life after peering at his twin sister in her typical denim cut-offs as she bent over to grab a snack from the bottom part of the refrigerator—she would present her lovely ass to his view, and it would take all of Chris's willpower to not reach out and grab those full, supple cheeks.
Sometimes (and he really didn't want to admit this) Chris even had wet dreams about his sister...
…
They would start off in some dark hotel room already in the midst of wondrous passion, just the two of them in bed—naked, sweating, arms wrapped firmly around each others' bodies. Their bare legs entwined, Chris would thrust his cock in an out of Claire's dripping pussy as the heat of the night would make their moist flesh stick together. Sweat would pour down Claire's joyful face, her glazed and pendulous breasts swinging through the air with every one of Chris's raging thrusts into her slimy pink cave.
All of the hatred between these two siblings would burst forth in this one moment of sexual deviance. And for once Chris would be in control. He'd grab Claire by the waist and simply pound her vagina, stabbing his colossal prick in and out of his sister's juicy folds as she lay there and took it.
"Tell me you love it!" Chris would yell. "Tell me you love your brother's cock!"
"Ahh—I love it!" Claire would shriek, lying on her back as her tits swung and bounced wildly to Chris's frantic assault. Her face would be drawn hard with pleasure, her luscious mouth crying out in delight. "Yes! Yes! Yes! I love it! I love my brother's cock! I love the way it feels inside me! I love the way it tears apart my pussy! And I love the way it...it...OH—IT'S SO FUCKING HUGE!"
They would fuck like animals, the headboard slamming violently against the wall over and over, both lovers grunting like beasts, gasping for air, kissing wildly, their tongues slipping briefly out of their mouths and flicking together.
As Chris skewered his sister's gushing cunt, Claire would arch her slender back at an intensely sharp angle, moaning her brother's name in ecstasy: "Chris! Yes Chris! Fuck me! Fuck me hard, Brother!" And in return Chris would pump his hips even faster, sinking his fat, rigid cock deep into his sister's quim as Claire's voice would reach a knife-like pitch, those vivid pink lips crying out in relentless hunger for her brother.
"Harder!" she'd scream, fastening both ankles around Chris's waist. "Fuck me harder!"
And with every lunge forward Chris's tongue would meet his sister's, their soggy mouthpieces coiling together like glistening snakes in a dance. There'd be no love between them, only savage lust, an unrestrained desire that would compel Chris to penetrate his sister over and over with vigorous thrusts of his torso. She would bite down on his naked shoulder, squealing her pleasure into his aching flesh, and in vengeance Chris would maul his sister's jiggling tits, driving his fingers into the wet and slippery tissue until it blushed red.
"Fucking bitch!" Chris would growl. "You're gonna pay for that!"
Clutching his sister's breasts even more viciously, Chris would now accelerate the movement of his hips. His massive cock would begin a pistoning motion—swift, violent bursts with which he'd batter his sister's oozing twat, causing the headboard to ram every time threw his weight forward. Then pulling back, the crimson head of Chris's prick would reveal itself for a moment, only to hurtle through the entire length of his sister's pussy and repeat the frenzied process over and over.
With every shuddering pound Claire would toss her head back, her face twisting with what can only be described as painful pleasure, red hairs plastered whorishly to her drenched forehead, eyes bulging open to squeeze shut in rapturous delight, and spit flying from her quivering pink lips. Of their own volition, Claire's hands would begin gliding all over her brother's naked back, feeling his tense muscles as he plowed her wet and gripping burrow.
Sometimes she'd dig her nails into his sensitive flesh, drawing a harsh groan from Chris's lips; at other times she'd let both hands wander down to his flexing buttocks, clenching both cheeks in either palm or running a single digit between the snug valley—pumping it back and forth, back and forth...Then, like some mistress of lust and depravity, Claire would begin caressing her brother's scrotum with the tip of a solitary fingernail, raking it ever so teasingly and sending ripple after ripple of sinful pleasure throughout Chris's body.
"Ngggggggggh!" Chris would hum long and loud. "D-don't...p-play...w-with t-those! C-can you...h-hear me, C-Claire?"
But Claire would go on running her nails along the surface of Chris's plum-sized testicle, at times flicking it with the back of her finger or rolling the pair between her expert hand, which would immediately trigger a small discharge of her brother's cum deep inside Claire's womb.
"Mmmmhhh!" she would mewl. "Cum inside me, Brother; shoot that lovely sperm all around! Make me yours, Brother! Make me yours!"
So in revenge Chris would bend down and lick the sweat off his sister's dazzling breast, brushing his fat tongue around the erect nipple several times before latching onto it with his teeth—biting, tugging, grinding, drawing moan after moan from his sister's panting lips—after which he'd trace his drooling mouth-piece up Claire's throat.
"Oh—this is fucking nasty!" Claire would gasp, her entire body writhing in the throes of arousal. "Your tongue—ohhhh!—it's so wet! Nghhhh! It's like a gooey eel...r-running up my throat!"
An impassioned Claire would toss her head left and right as Chris's tongue continued drifting up her neck, her face wincing hard in disgust. Then their hungry mouths would unite as the two siblings engaged in a ravenous bout of kissing, Chris aggressively pumping his sister's cunt while Claire met everyone of her brother's feverish strokes by working her own hips in rhythm.
And so the twins would fuck for hours into the burning night. Then, with a mighty orgasm quivering through her pussy and rippling up her chest, Claire would discharge one final cry of delight, wrapping her sweat-glazed legs tighter around her brother's naked ass and drawing him deeper into her clenching folds.
That's when Chris would awake...
…
Damn it! he'd say to himself. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why the hell do I keep having these dreams!
Positively terrified, with his eyes wide, heart pounding and lust smouldering in his chest, Chris would remove the blankets from over his lap to discover that he had cum all over himself. The sheer rapture of an incestuous dream would make him orgasm, and orgasm hard. The first few times it happened Chris thought he'd be mentally scarred for life. He chastised himself; he felt incredible shame and disgust; he even contemplated seeking professional help, yet before long he grew to enjoy these dreams...
What would it be like, Chris wondered, what would it be like to fuck my own sister?
"Well?" asked Leon, snapping his friend back to reality. "Is Claire one of them or what?"
"Yeah..." Chris mumbled. "Claire is definitely one of the popular crowd. But unlike your sister—who's actually a compassionate person—Claire is a bitch. And not just a bitch, but a cruel bitch...just like her friend Ada over there."
Leon looked pissed. "It's not fair, man. It's just not fucking fair! How come we can't get any girls? I can't 'cause I'm from a culture that says no to sex before marriage, and you 'cause—well...you just read."
Chris laughed, examining the contents of the beaker in his hand before adding a few drops of red liquid into the foaming mixture. "I read 'cause I can't get any girls. And maybe we'd have better luck if we weren't so shy all the time!"
Leon and his friend were both virgins, a secret they guarded very closely and never dared express out loud even between themselves.
Well, that would change one day soon. Very soon...
The two boys continued working on their science project for the next few minutes after which Chris turned to his friend.
"Alright," he said very clearly, "we're almost done. All I need from you is to pass me the beaker very carefully. Remember, it's hot—so just be cautious. And then I'll just add some sulphur to the formula and that should be it. Just remember—be careful."
Leon snorted, using a pair of tongs to lift the beaker. "Do I look stupid?" He held the container towards his friend. "Don't you think I can do something this simple without instructions?" Chris laughed, emptying drops of the white sulphur into the beaker as cautiously as he could. But then he noticed something: his friend's hand began to shake, slowly at first and then more and more violently, and as he looked up at Leon he discovered the cause for it.
Leon's eyes were fixed on Ada Wong—who had bent over to grab something from her backpack—thus presenting to him a view of her lovely ass, her black mini-skirt riding up her supple thighs and disclosing a pair of bright red panties biting into either cheek.
Before Chris could say anything his friend's hand relaxed its grip. The beaker slipped from between the steel tongs, dropping to the floor with a shattering explosion of glass that reverberated around the room. Some of the girls screamed in surprise; others jumped at the sound or swore. A pool of glimmering red liquid now covered the floor with shards of broken glass peppered here and there, the foamy mixture hissing and bubbling at Chris and Leon's feet.
For a moment no one spoke, and then Chris felt the teacher's hand on his back.
He turned around and beheld a furious Ms Birkin standing with her arms crossed; her face revealed nothing but the utmost anger—and Ms Annette Birkin was not someone you wanted to enrage.
"Look at this!" she yelled. "Look at this mess! How could you two idiots be so careless! You've ruined it—you've ruined my beautiful lab, all because of your stupid incompetence! If you two weren't so busy ogling girls this never would've happened!"
Chris tried to explain himself. "But I wasn't—"
"Shut up!" Ms Birkin cut him off. "I know what you two were doing; I saw the whole damn thing. Now clean this up!" Chris and Leon looked at each other. "Clean this up now!" Ms Birkin screamed pointing to the floor.
"Yes ma'am," the boys replied.
Over the next half-hour Chris and Leon were on their knees scrubbing the floor with all the energy they could muster; they soaked up the liquid first with heaps of brown paper towels, after which they repeatedly applied soap, and this was followed by a long, arduous sponging that tested both patience and stamina.
"Sorry man," Leon whispered to his friend running a sponge across the floor. "This was all my fault."
"You fuckin' think?" Chris retorted. His face was winced hard as his arm, sore from the constant rubbing, still worked laboriously to get the floor back to its original shade of grey. "I told you to pay attention you dumb fuck!"
"I deserve that," answered Leon. "But I couldn't help it: Ada's ass was right there. And besides—you looked too!"
Chris wiped the sweat from off his forehead. "Only because I wanted to see what the hell you were looking at!" He glanced over at Ada's table and found something to infuriate him even more: Claire, his own sister, was looking back at Chris while pointing a finger at him and laughing silently. Once again she wore a hateful smirk, and Chris wanted nothing more than to smack that arrogant grin from off his sister's face.
"Fuck you," Chris slowly mouthed. Claire uttered another silent laugh then quietly flashed him the finger.
"I can't believe we have to do this," Leon complained. "My arm's killing me!"
"Yeah," Chris replied, "Ms Birkin could've gotten the janitor to clean it up but she wants to make us suffer. She wants us on our hands and knees and in agony. Fucking bitch—she's always hated us."
Leon smiled. "Yeah; she's a bitch alright, but a sexy bitch..."
"Quiet!" hissed Chris. "She coming. Just please don't say anything stupid!"
Ms Birkin's black heels clicked to a stop in front of the two boys as they stared up at her with a mixture of respect and fear. Indeed, Annette Birkin was as ravishing a teacher as any male student, or teacher, could desire. At 40 years old, the 5'7 beauty was attired in a long white lab coat under which she wore a dark suit and white blouse. Fine curls dusky-brown hair tumbled halfway down her back, providing a rich contrast to her pale-coloured face, a face that looked both stern and unforgiving. It seemed to wear an expression of perpetual hostility, the forehead creased with lines of annoyance and its hazel eyes—resting behind a pair of thin red spectacles—narrowed in constant anger.
It was a perfect portrait of intelligence, hatred, and sexiness.
Yet there were also subtle hints of Ms Birkin's womanly charms. For instance, her eyebrows were manicured to perfection, her mouth showed vibrant with crimson lipstick, and dabs of rouge blushed on her lovely cheeks. More so, the first two buttons of the gorgeous teacher's blouse were undone, revealing a pair of perfect breasts crammed into a tight-fitting brassiere, their pale upper mounds presenting to the hungry eye a massive valley of cleavage.
"Keep scrubbing!" Ms Birkin barked. "I can still see the discolouration. I want it back to its original shade, do you hear?"
Leon and Chris nodded their meek obedience.
"Do you hear?" Ms Birkin repeated, calmly this time. It was more of a statement rather than a question.
"Yes Ma'am," replied the two exhausted friends before returning to their task.
And as Ms Birkin stood above them with her hands on her waist, Chris and Leon began to scrub so hard that sweat was pouring down their faces. Every now and then Ms Birkin would yell at them to put more effort into it, and they would have no choice but to do so. All throughout this interval, the vindictive teacher stood with her legs apart glaring down at them, insulting them, calling them idiots, morons, imbeciles, only taking a break when a student would come up to present their completed science experiments.
At one point Claire walked up to the Ms Birkin waving a beaker in her hand.
"All done, Ms Birkin," she declared, standing with her back to Chris who was still on his knees. "It was so easy."
The teacher examined the liquid in the transparent container.
"Hmm," she mused, adjusting her glasses. "It's supposed to be a bright red, but this is clearly a brownish tint."
Chris looked over at Leon to see if his friend was sharing this joyous moment. Instead, he found Leon glancing from Claire's buttocks in its tight pink mini-skirt to Ms Birkin's long, creamy legs accented by a black skirt that ended just at the knees. In fact, Leon's face was so close to the ground that it was obvious he was trying to stare up their panties.
"Oh," stammered Claire, "well, you see...it was red at first, but when Chris broke his container it scared me so much that I accidentally dropped too much sulphur into it."
Chris looked up in wrath: he knew that had nothing to do with it. Claire and her friends were incompetent cunts and that was it. He was about to speak but Claire, sensing her brother's treachery, stomped her stiletto heel down on the back of Chris's hand, forcing her brother to squeal out in dreadful agony. The pain so excruciating that all the wind had been knocked out of Chris's lungs, and all he could do was cringe like a wounded animal and try to hold back the few tears that threatened to run down his face.
"Well," considered Ms Birkin, "Since your brother and his friend's stupidity is the reason this experiment failed, I'll tell you what Claire: I'll give you a B plus, even though you clearly deserve an A…"
This only added insult to Chris's injury.
"Oh thank you, Ms Birkin!" Claire fawned. "You're the best teacher ever! Thank you thank you thank you!"
And then, glancing down at her brother grovelling on the floor rubbing his hand back and forth, Claire flashed him a hateful grin before walking away with a swing of her perfect ass. Chris could only stare after his sister in mounting rage. Leon, too, wore a look of sheer disbelief.
"Get back to work!" yelled Ms Birkin seeing the two friends taking a breather. She turned on her heels and began going around the class, giving the two friends a chance to talk...
"Man, I can't believe she did that," said Leon in disbelief. "She's your own fucking sister!"
"Now you know—hnggghhh—what I have to put up with," Chris groaned from the pain.
"How's your hand?" asked his friend.
Chris held it out: the white skin had been flayed and scratched raw, and there was a red tattoo where Claire's heel had come down just under the knuckles. Other than that, there was no actual cause for alarm.
"Hurts like hell," said Chris, "but at least it ain't bleeding."
Leon shook his head. "Now I know all those stories you tell me about Claire are true: she really is fucking insane."
Chris grunted. "I swear, I just want to slap that conceited look off her face. But I want more than that; much more—I want revenge, sweet, empowering revenge. Hell, I can't tell you how many nights I've stayed up dreaming of ways to get even with that bitch..."
And so till the end of class the two friends tirelessly wiped the floor back to its original shade, Chris doing all of the work using only his left arm since the agony was still too much in his right hand. At several moments he would experience a quiver of pain shoot through the length of his arm, and Chris's face would contort harshly in reaction and make him to squeal like an injured dog. But still he kept at it, using his boiling emotional hatred of Claire to scrub harder and harder, and before long the floor was back to its original glow.
Finally the period ended, and giving a sigh of relief the two friends picked up their bags and headed for the exit. The miserable events of the day had made Chris and Leon sadder than usual and both walked with their heads down, but just as they reached the doors they literally bumped shoulders with Claire and Ada.
"Watch it!" Claire barked. "Can't you see where you're going, asshole?"
Chris grumbled deep in his throat. Though it seemed inhuman, Claire did her best to avoid calling Chris by the name of brother at school; rather, she thought of him as some unfashionable nerd—and Claire didn't want to be associated with any nerds. "First you drop a beaker; now you bump into me...you really must be blind or something." Chris met his sister's insults with perfect composure, until she said: "And by the way—how's your hand?"
Once again Claire gave an arrogant smirk, and that's when Chris felt his fingers curl into a tight, shaking fist, but before he could lift it to smack his sister in the face Leon's hand clamped around his friend's wrist.
"Don't do it, man," he whispered. "You'll be expelled."
Chris grunted like a savage beast as his fingers relaxed back into an open palm.
Ada giggled. "Aww, isn't it cute how he listens to his boyfriend? They make such a lovely couple, both of them ugly; both of them nerds; and both having no social life whatsoever."
Chris glanced at Leon standing beside him: he was smiling widely.
Nope, thought Chris, that jackass won't stand up for his best friend—not if there's a hot girl around.
In fact, Leon actually rushed to open the classroom door for the pack of narcissistic girls. They walked out one by one, first Claire, then Ada, followed by a girl with short hair, Rebecca Chambers and a gorgeous black chick of African descent, Sheva Alomar, each throwing their heads back and not even thanking Leon or acknowledging his pathetic existence.
Chris looked furious. "Leon!"
"What?"
"Why would you stoop so low? Why do all these nice things for them if they'd never date you, much less do what you have in that fucking mind of yours? I'd never let any of those bitches walk over me!"
"Because," smiled his friend, "it makes me feel good. And besides, I think Ada's actually into me."
Laughing, the two friends headed to their Political Science class after which followed lunch, but as this was turning out to be one of the worst days in Chris's life he decided to skip his final period and travel home, which was not uncommon for him to do as he was usually ahead in his studies. Chris realized that Claire had a spare at this time and she'd probably be home, but it was a nuisance he was willing to overlook.
And so at 1:30 in the afternoon he got off the bus at the end of his street. It was a few minutes' walk to his house and when Chris approached he noticed a corvette parked in the ample driveway. It was a magnificent car, glinting bright red under the sunlight and conveying the impression that whoever owned such a luxury must possess great taste and wealth.
What the hell? Chris marvelled, We don't own any Corvette.
It soon dawned on him that the car must've been Ada's and Claire had probably invited her over again. His sister often complained to their parents to buy her a new car (she would never drive a used vehicle) but their father, in his typical stern manner, would merely grunt and say no. Their mother was a bit more understanding and tried to explain to Claire the values of money and getting a job, something which she had yet to do.
The door closed behind Chris with a thud. He had planned on grabbing a light snack then heading off to the nearby park to read, but when he walked into the hallway the first detail he noticed two school bags were laying on the floor. The second detail was a small thumping noise upstairs.
Girl stuff, he mused.
Chris ambled towards the kitchen when he heard another noise, louder this time and almost like a squeal, and so curiosity got the better of him as he crept upstairs. Luckily, the stairs were of oaken-hardwood and didn't squeak, but Chris knew he still had to use caution. The fact was that his sister didn't like being disturbed and could be quite a bitch about it, having thrown massive tantrums in the past at the slightest of bothers.
Once he made the flight of steps Chris began tiptoeing toward Claire's room, dropping on his knees and lightly pressing his eye to the vertical slit in the open door. What he spied from that crack made him suck his breath in with astonishment. On the elegant pink bed was his sister Claire engaged in a passionate display with her best friend. The two girls were dressed in only their bras and panties, the rest of their clothes lying messily discarded on the floor.
Ada was on her back, wearing bright red lingerie with most of her naked flesh exposed to the light. Chris noted her smooth arms and shoulders, the gentle curve of her slender hips, and those long, luscious legs: as usual, her hair flowed in shimmering waves under her back. And on top of Ada was his twin sister, Claire, adorned in only her black bra and panties.
Is this a dream? Chris asked himself. Am I fucking dreaming?
…
Whether it was a dream or a hallucination, the vision before Chris electrified him. There was his sister, as beautiful and exquisite as in the most erotic of his reveries, her rich, creamy flesh bared in its naked glory, blossoming under the ceiling light with the tint of youth. Chris swallowed: he could see Claire's toned and athletic body exposed to his hungry eyes. He drank in the arch of her graceful back, the sensuous incline of her hips, and the subtle contours of her feminine thighs.
One of the most beautiful sights was his sister's tight black panties biting into the cleft of her delicious ass. Chris's eye zeroed in on that vision: the black lace stretched across each lovely cheek, emphasizing the fullness and roundness of Claire's buttocks.
Shit! He thought. I've seen that ass plenty of times in a pair of snug jeans...but to see it now—in lingerie—it looks fucking fantastic! His eyes roved up his sister's alluring back, awed by the supple flesh that was covered only by a thin bra strap.
Claire was astride her best friend's stomach as the two ran their hands all over each others' arms, breasts, legs and asses, both of them mewling softly all the while. At that moment they really did look like twins: both had the same warm complexion; both had lustrous hair; and both had the same athletic figure, their muscles limber and agile, midriffs and thighs sculpted to flawlessness, their nineteen-year-old bodies just begging to be touched and kissed and fucked.
Ada reached up to cup her lover's bra and squeezed, causing Claire to throw her head back and gasp. This fondling continued for another minute as the two ravishing girls panted and hummed with lust, their "Ahhhhhhs" and "Mmmhhhhhs" filling the otherwise quiet room. Then Claire bent her head over Ada's, draping Ada's face with the silkiness of her golden hair. They stared into each others' eyes with passion, their foreheads and noses just touching as they breathed warmly onto each other. It was an intense moment, like the calm before a hurricane...
What the hell are they waiting for? Chris wondered. This is fuckin' infuriating!
Suddenly Claire began moving her head back and forth, letting the strands of golden hair tickle her lover's face. At first, the motion was gentle and full of love, the hairs slowly caressing Ada's eyes and cheeks and full pink lips; but soon Claire fell into a wild and berserk state, flicking her head wildly from side to side, the hairs whipping off her girlfriend's face and mouth.
"Ahh!" Ada panted, gripping Claire's slender hips. "Your hair feels—Mmmmhhhhhh...so soft..." Her hands began running up and down the sleek curvature of Claire's waist, taking great delight in the suppleness of the creamy flesh.
Wow, thought Chris, girls really knew how to be intimate with each other...
He'd never seen anything like this before, not even in the hours of pornography he watched each day. Here was his gorgeous sister in skimpy black lingerie, her thighs splayed on either side of another girl who was just as gorgeous, and the two were taking slow and deliberate pleasure in hair! It seemed amusing to Chris but nonetheless erotic. In fact, he could feel his massive cock pushed up against the zipper of his jeans, eager to get out...
Claire was now gyrating her head in aggressive circles, tossing her thick golden hair in a single unified mass as it repeatedly whipped against Ada's left cheek. This went on for a minute till Ada, growing weary of being only a spectator in the lovemaking, threw her arms around Claire's neck and pulled her down into a heated kiss. Chris watched as their glistening pink lips closed upon each others' over and over, the wet and delicate smacks filling the silent room like music. The kisses grew wilder as saliva dribbled down the chins of both lovers, the sounds increasing in pitch as two sets of lips clicked succulently together.
"Mmmhhhh!" moaned both girls, their eyes half-closed and dreamlike.
As Claire and Ada continued making out Chris noted that his sister's black bra was pressed down hard on Ada's red one, causing their large and creamy breasts to bulge out of the lacy materials. While this sight was intoxicating, so was the display of two pairs of lush and slender legs entwined as one, the ceiling lights bathing their smooth flesh in a golden luster.
Fuck fuck fuck! thought Chris. This beats any porno I've seen! My heart feels like it's going to burst. My cock feels—wait, what's this!—
Ada's hands began creeping down her girlfriend's back, fingertips caressing the naked flesh in miniature circles or gliding down the valley between her spine. Soon her hands found their target: Claire's buttocks.
Yes, these were the same pair of delicious buns Chris had seen in a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans or black bikini, the same ripe and full cheeks that jiggled as his sister ran up to the diving board and plunged into the cool blue water. Now his eyes watched spellbound as Ada's fingers spread wide over Claire's black panties, exploring the lovely mounds before squeezing down on them ruthlessly.
"Ughhhhh!" Claire whimpered into her girlfriend's mouth.
Their glossy pink lips were still locked as Ada persisted with digging her nails into Claire's panty-covered ass, taking sadistic pleasure in her lover's sharp cries and contorted features. And the cries didn't stop.
Ada, up till recently passive and obedient, was now ready to take control. She kissed Claire harder while mauling those supple buttocks with brutal delight, craving the touch and taste and smell of the soft feminine body above. The transformation was incredible: this once timid and submissive girl had now changed into a salacious, dominating whore. Ada's face became twisted with animal passion as her glazed pink mouth devoured Claire's, the latter's urgent cries drowned to silence in her throat.
Meanwhile, Chris had already unzipped his jeans, pulled out his cock and began stroking it furiously. All the years of repressed anger and lust for his twin sister melted into one of the best masturbation sessions he ever had. One part of him wished that he could just go in there and fuck those two girls senseless, but the more rational part argued against his discovery.
Ada's wet lips smacked upon Claire's as both girls slobbered drool all over their chins. As this spit fest was occurring, Ada placed both thumbs between Claire's tight ass and pried the snug cheeks apart, sliding her creamy digit up and down the silk-encased cleft and causing her lover to hum with arousal.
"Ngggghhhh!" Claire squealed with urgent pleasure. "Nggggghhhhhh!"
These noises only managed to drive Ada's tormenting hands further as once more she dug her sharp nails into her girlfriend's black panties, kneading the flesh underneath like dough till it rolled up between her hands in tender clumps. Finally Claire's tongue pushed up against Ada's as they drew back from their kiss. For a moment they just stared each at other—panting loud and unevenly through their mouths—as if both had come up for air.
"Do you know how much that hurt?" asked Claire rubbing her sore butt.
"No," cooed Ada. "But I'm sure it hurt plenty."
"You're such a bitch," Claire complained with a playful grin.
Ada shook her head, the motion causing her cute nose to rub up against Claire's. "You're the bitch. In fact, you're my bitch."
"No way!" Claire retorted. There was a strange glint in her eye, one of anger and perhaps wrath, leading Chris to suspect that the proud and narcissistic core that made up his sister's very being had been insulted. Claire next words confirmed this: "As long as we're together I'm always the one in charge, got it?"
"Wanna bet?" grinned Ada. "Let's just see who can make who cum first."
"You're on!" Claire declared.
Again the sensuous girls joined mouths and kissed, harder this time and moaning deep into their throats. As they made out they held one another by the cheeks, fingers gliding up and down the silken flesh, teasing, tickling, and stroking. This went on for a minute till Claire parted her vibrant pink lips from Ada's—and that was when Chris saw something to delight his eyes: a single thread of saliva, with the ceiling light glittering and dancing across it, connected the tip of his sister's tongue to her lover's.
Beautiful, he thought. Just fuckin' beautiful.
With their noses now squashed the two girls began a tonguing contest, agile mouthpieces swirling together in a vigorous ballet of lust and dripping with spit. But this wasn't just a game; this was war. Claire grabbed her girlfriend's shoulders and pushed her down forcibly into the mattress, bending her face lower and running her tongue slowly up Ada's throat.
"Ahh!" Ada moaned, tilting her head back into the pillow. Her face was a study in arousal, the eyes closed and forehead knitted with desire. "Mmmhhhhhh...so nice and wet...Lick me—oooohhhhhh!—bathe me in your spit..."
And that's just what Claire did. Her velveteen tongue, bright pink and oozing with juices, continued drifting up her lover's throat before flicking off the chin, leaving a radiant track of saliva as a memento of her labour.
Chris could only stare open-mouthed. He had thus far watched these erotic proceedings with a burning sensation in his chest, desire building inside of his loins moment by moment at the sight of two beautiful lesbians kissing, licking, and making out, but when he saw the vision of his gorgeous sister bathe her darling nymph in spit he grabbed his cock with both hands and tugged like a madman. Nothing turned him on like the spectacle of lesbians licking each other.
And Claire was far from done: as soon as her tongue had grazed off Ada's chin she began lavishing her mouthpiece all over her beloved's face, eliciting constant gasps of pleasure throughout the short interval.
"Yesss!" cried Ada. "Oh fuck yes! This is so nasty!"
Even nastier was when Claire abruptly ceased her oral ministrations and bent her head back; a loud, guttural noise followed deep in the caverns of her gullet as if she were clearing her throat. Immediately afterward her bright pink lips opened wide, pouring out a thick and translucent river of spit from her mouth, dropping ribbon after ribbon, rope after rope of glimmering saliva onto her girlfriend's right cheek. The sheer quantity of it was incredible, gushing forth in a continuous stream before tapering off, though a few silver ropes—linking the edges of Claire's pink tongue to the mess of slop on her lover's face—still remained before abruptly snapping.
Ada winced in disgust as she felt the gelatinous fluid creeping down her chin. Before she could protest, however, Claire's tongue began taking short, frenzied licks of the thick ooze in a wild display of sapphic desire, spreading the drool all over Ada's lush-skinned face. At other times she'd slow things down by raking the dribbling instrument across Ada's cherry lips or placing soft little kisses on her beloved's forehead.
The gorgeous redhead's face was now smeared in juices, with rivulets of slime running down her cheeks. Chris stroked his cock harder as he beheld a ribbon of goo trickling down the contours of Ada's nose; he could even see her eyebrows swathed in the thick liquid.
"How'd you like that?" asked Claire.
Ada continued taking deep breaths, her cheeks flushed and throat panting for air. "'mazing," she gasped. "Just amazing."
Claire smiled, laying a gentle hand on her lover's creamy stomach and watching it pump furiously up and down. "Never thought I'd do something so nasty did you?" Ada shook her head. "Of course not," she continued, "because I'm the queen of this relationship. I'm your fucking queen, got it?" Ada gave a smiling nod. "That's right; I'm the one in charge, and don't you ever, ever forget it!"
Chris was astonished as to how much of a control-freak his sister was, and this was proven by her next actions...
Claire decided to reposition her body by lying flat on top of her best friend, taking Ada's wrists in each hand and violently spreading them over her head; then, bending down, Claire kissed Ada on the lips, a wet, sensuous kiss which resounded with a moist jingle.
"Mmmhhhhhh!" the girls moaned into each others' mouths.
Now sitting astride her lover's stomach, Claire gripped Ada's bare shoulders and began grinding her crotch back and forth. At the same time Ada took hold of her lover's narrow hips and ran her hands up and down their tight contours, stroking the naked flesh with the tips of her fingers and causing Claire's humping to grow quicker and more frantic. In fact, Claire's black panties were now gliding across Ada's snug abdomen with an almost violent frenzy, leaving glistening streaks across the warm-coloured skin.
Both girls squealed with excitement, their passions building to an urgent and decisive climax. Ada had her golden hair thrown back into the comfort of a white pillow, the muscles of her neck stretched tight and her crimson mouth, bright with lip-gloss, open and panting heavily. At the same time she began rubbing her silken thighs together in a desperate attempt to provoke orgasm.
"Need—to—cum!" Ada cried. "Need—to—cum—bad!"
"Almost there!" Claire wailed, her voice shrill and her face creased with desire. "We're almost there baby!"
She was positively grinding her crotch into Ada's washboard abdomen, feeling the lips of her twat spread open and rub with savage fury against her girlfriend's stomach. In fact, Claire's entire expression was twisted by lust, her hair bouncing with every motion of her athletic hips, her lush thighs clamped tightly around her lover's waist, her full and creamy breasts (squeezed together into a lacy black bra) heaving up and down with each delirious gyration of her crotch—and all the while her eyes were pressed close as she shrieked in pleasure, holding Ada by the shoulders for support and to facilitate her movements.
Both girls were so close to cumming.
And they weren't the only ones. Chris was fisting his cock almost hunched over on the floor and was just seconds away from orgasm. That familiar sensation in his balls was becoming more and more pronounced; the bulbous head of his cock dripped and glittered with precum; the veins on his shaft throbbed like mad, and of its own accord his left hand moved out and rested against the wall to his sister's room while the other feverishly pumped his member.
Any second now, he thought. Any second now!
Just then Chris heard the garage door open. He darted his eyes into his sister's room—the two girls yelped and sat up on the bed. Through some great stroke of luck, Chris managed to escape being spotted, ducking against the wall and breathing a sigh of relief. What was wrong with him?
…
"It's my mom!" Claire squealed. "She's home already!"
"We gotta put our clothes back on!" replied Ada, a quiver of fear in her voice. As they scrambled to redress themselves Chris zipped up and scurried downstairs as quietly as possible. Grabbing his schoolbag, he took the rear door into the backyard, opened the wooden gate, and looped around to the front.
There was his mother's car on the driveway. Chris pressed himself against the wall as she drove inside and shut the garage door. Then, walking to the front entrance he stood there a minute collecting his thoughts and slowing his heart-rate before finally ringing the bell. For an instant Chris couldn't help but feel disappointed at the recent turn of events: he had been so close to cumming, and cumming hard.
Mrs Redfield opened the door. "ello sweetie," she said in a lovely English accent. "I just' got home too."
"Hey, Mom." And with those words, Chris stepped into the house and closed the door behind him. "Let me help you with the gro—"
At that moment Claire and Ada came bounding down the stairs, looking flushed with their hair a bit frizzled and clothes rather unkempt.
"Oh, 'ello Ada dear," said Mrs Redfield upon seeing her daughter's friend. "When did you come 'ere?"
Ada was breathing hard. "Half an hour ago, Mrs Redfield...Great to see you again; sorry; but I gotta get home." She picked up her school bag, said bye to all (even Chris) and left.
In the rush of things, Mrs Redfield was left standing with the grocery bags in her hands when Chris, the excellent son that he was, took them from her custody and walked into the kitchen with her in tow. His mother was beautiful. She was 41 years old but looked about 33, having had both Chris and Claire at a young age.
As Mrs Redfield continued packing groceries into the fridge Chris got to see her bend over and present her buttocks to his view. He stared for a quick second before looking away, experiencing a momentary flutter in his chest followed by a deep sense of guilt.
How can I look at my own mother like that? he asked himself. She's such a wonderful, caring person, and I'm nothing but a terrible son—a terrible monster of a son...
After Mrs Redfield finished with the groceries she came over and asked Chris in her sensuous English accent, "What would you like to have tonight for dinner, my sweetie?"
"Whatever you decide, Mom."
Mrs Redfield bent forward and kissed her son's forehead; then with a smile that was at once radiant and full of love, she went upstairs to fold the laundry. As she climbed the stairs Chris watched with a certain awe and reverence. From a very young age, he had developed an inseparable bond with his mother, clinging to her long dresses and following her all places and reading with her, and many times even falling asleep in her comforting lap. In a few words: Chris worshipped her.
Though Mrs Redfield was a housewife she was also a brilliant woman, delighting in ancient literature and historical texts in addition to the plentiful chores which she performed at home. All in all, she was well-read and sophisticated and her intellect was matched only by her physical beauty.
At 5'8 Mrs Redfield was a tall woman with a very graceful figure. She had long, cascading hair that was a beautiful dark, dark red, a colour Chris had never seen before on any other woman; it fell to her hips in gorgeous, dusky waves that shimmered under the light. To compliment her hair Mrs Redfield often wore elegant dresses, like the white one-piece she was adorned in today that ended at her knees. In fact, Mrs Redfield could wear any colour and she'd look beautiful.
Mrs Redfield's flesh was a flawless pale hue, the sort of tone relished by the aristocrats of earlier centuries; with jade-tinted eyes, lips of bright red, and delicate shoulders which sloped into her slender arms, Mrs Redfield was the envy of every woman her age. And when it came to breasts she was more than gifted: Mrs Redfield's breasts were large, well-rounded, and perfect.
Chris knew this and it made him proud… sorta. In fact, he had admired every detail of his mother's body both from near and far, and as Mrs Redfield climbed the last step of the stairway Chris couldn't help but consider that, though his mother's waist had borne the burden of childbirth three times her stomach was taut and firm, and her hips had the seductive curves of women half her age.
She does play a lot of tennis, Chris mused. Plus she loves to go for those walks. I guess that helps to keep her in great form.
Now, why did Chris just consider his mother's body with such a careful eye? One reason was that she really was beautiful. But the greater reason was that ever since childhood Chris had been attracted to his mother—not in any perverted or depraved manner—but because she was such a warm and kind hearted woman, the total opposite of that cold bitch of a sister.
Walking into the living room Chris saw Claire reclined idly on the sofa with her head facing the television. For a moment he just stared at her—half in anger and the other half in wonder of her body—and remembering the act of lesbianism he had recently witnessed. Claire still wore that same tight black top which hugged against the full globes of her c-cup breasts; the short pink skirt had now ridden up her lush thighs, revealing the crotch of his sister's dark panties.
Claire turned her face up and instantly Chris looked away. "What the hell are you staring at?" she asked with a feral growl. Her mouth was set in a scathing leer.
"Nothing," Chris answered. "Just thinking about how you treated me at school today." For some reason he couldn't meet Claire's glare; instead, like a timid mouse, he watched his sister from the corners of both eyes.
Claire let out a hate-filled cackle. "Your fault for trying to rat me out."
Chris held up the back of his left hand, displaying the vivid red blot that marked the skin just under his knuckles, some of which had begun peeling.
"You see this?" he asked heatedly. "Do you have any idea how much this hurts? And the worst part is you did this to me. You—my own sister!"
"Don't really care," Claire replied. "Squeal on me again and I'll crush your other hand." She chuckled, adding: "Oh man, it was so fun the first time; you should've seen the look on your pathetic face. I think you were actually crying. Yep, I remember seeing tears... "
Once more she was being an arrogant bitch, but whenever Claire needed help on an assignment or presentation she'd inevitably turn to Chris (the very same brother she confessed to loathing) and would force his reluctant aid. Though Chris tried his best to get out of such circumstances he knew "daddy's favourite" would complain and end up getting her way. In fact, the only reason Claire was passing high-school was because of Chris.
It had always been like that.
"You can be such a bitch," Chris muttered coldly.
Claire heard his remark and laughed. "And you're just a fucking loser," she shot back. "Now why don't you go upstairs and masturbate? Or maybe you can't today because of your hand? In that case, I'm really sorry I broke your masturbating hand since we both know how much you love touching yourself." Claire burst into a shrill laugh, kicking her feet up in the air while doing so. "Tell me, Brother: are you still a virgin?"
Chris clenched his fists in anger. She'd never say something like that in front of Dad, he thought.
Though Mr Redfield loved his daughter and constantly gave in to her demands it was only to keep her pure, to occupy her mind from boys. The moment he learned she wasn't a virgin...well—Mr Redfield wasn't above hitting his children.
Claire kept going on in her insulting manner and as much as Chris despised his sister at that moment he also felt a spark of lust for her. His eyes focused in on her pink mouth jabbering away, at those soft, glossy lips opening and closing, opening and closing—and an insatiable desire to slide his cock between them devoured him.
I want to kneel over her chest, he thought, and drive my fat prick down her throat. I want her to choke; I want her to gasp; I want her pink lips struggling to accommodate my length... I'd hold the sides of her little red head and thrust into her like mad. She'd be groaning and crying and spluttering and I'd blow a huge load down her gullet before removing my prick...and that's when I'd see a rope of white cum—thick and creamy—attached to her glistening lips...
Chris snapped out of it. These fantasies were becoming frighteningly regular, and once again he tried to convince himself it was all because he was a horny virgin, a horny virgin who'd do even his own sister for sexual gratification.
"Don't worry," Claire continued, "I'm sure any day now you'll find some lucky guy to pop your cherry. Or maybe Leon already has..."
Claire proceeded to taunt her brother and instead of retaliating Chris merely turned around and walked away, cursing under his breath: "Somehow I'm going to get even with that tramp. And when that day comes, there'll be no mercy for her—none!"
By 6:30 the entire family had arrived and dinner got started. The six members of the Redfield clan sat in the middle of the dining room, the light-bulbs above their heads glowing brilliantly and making their plates, spoons, forks and glasses twinkle like stars. Chris ate his delicious meal, a succulent chicken which his mother had so lovingly prepared while staring through the parted window curtains. It's gonna rain, he thought. Looks like it'll be a big one, with thunder and lightning and maybe even—
Chris's eyes came to rest on his father sitting at the head of the table. Mr Redfield was a quite a strapping man: about six foot three and muscular (he worked out regularly, so did Chris). Mr Redfield had brown hair much like his son and a handsome, rugged face. Dripping with animal sexuality, Mr Redfield's exotic good looks and Olympian figure could send quivers of arousal through any woman's body, regardless of her age.
Yes, Mr Redfield was a well-favoured man, but Chris had come to learn early in life that his father also had a nasty temper, a temper which could explode at the slightest of annoyances that Chris or his sister had committed.
Throughout the entire dinner, Mr Redfield conversed with Claire, enquiring about her day and taking an interest in everything related to his precious daughter, but never once did he talk to Chris or so much as look at him. No, the man had his favourites…
"And what about you Chris, dear?" asked Mrs Redfield. "'ow was everything at school today? Did you and your sister behave?
Chris smiled at his mother's thoughtfulness: she knew he had been feeling left out of the conversation and so expertly shifted the focus to him. "Everything's great," answered Chris. "Claire and I—" he looked at his sister for a moment—"yeah...we got along great."
Rose shook her head. Unlike Mr Redfield (who at forty-two worked at the most law prestigious firm in downtown Montreal and had a wall full of impressive degrees) his uneducated housewife realized that Chris and Claire had always despised each other. She would try to ensure good relations between the siblings but such efforts continually proved hopeless. Still, as any good mother, she would never give up...
Dinner finished at 7:45 just as it started to rain. Mrs Redfield, wiping her delicate fingers on a table napkin, turned to Claire and said, "Darling, please help your brother with the dishes."
"But Mom!" she whined, "I've had a really tough day at school and got a ton of homework. Can't Chris do the dishes by himself?"
Chris glared at the bitch.
"Of course he can!" said Mr Redfield springing up from his chair. "Why don't you go and finish your homework, okay sweetie?"
Chris watched as his sister bounded upstairs before turning to his father. "Uh, Dad—" There was a nervous dread in his voice. "I have to study for a test..."
"Well, you can still do the damn dishes!" Mr Redfield said gruffly.
"Sure Dad..." He sighed.
And just like that Chris was stuck with the dishes while his tramp sister escaped with a goddamn lie. This happened time and again: Mr Redfield would give into Claire's pettiest demands by forcing his son to carry the load, and Chris was getting tired of it.
As he walked miserably towards the kitchen Rose came up from behind and slid her arms around her son's waist. "Don't worry, Chris darling," she said with a beautiful smile, "I will help you with the dishes. After all, you are Mommy's dear boy." Mrs Redfield kissed Chris on the cheeks, bringing an unintentional blush to his face and a stir in his pants. STOP IT, CHRIS!
Chris was in his room after having finished the dishes and the only emotion in his heart was the rage. He paced incessantly back and forth while listening to an iPod, and outside his window, there was a storm rumbling and roaring, the sound of violent winds breaking off tree branches and tossing them along roads, of thunder booming and lightning cracking, the fierce noise of rain hitting windows and cars and pavement. It was like the storm inside of him.
"Fucking bitch..." Chris muttered, striding back and forth. "...thinks she owns the whole fucking world...Dad doesn't do a fucking thing...always siding with her...if it wasn't for Mom I'd leave this house...bitch of sister needs a thrashing..."
He stopped. The heat in the room was stifling so Chris took off his sweater. But it wasn't enough, and he decided to open up a window regardless of all the rain. After he flung the window open Chris stuck out his head and breathed in the cool, rejuvenating air.
"Fucking bitch!" he yelled to the streets. "Claire, you are a mother-fucking bitch of a sister; you are the worst person in the whole fucking world!" Luckily the storm drowned out his voice, and it also felt nice to experience the cold rain on his face and to see the radiant lighting miles away. "You think I'm your slave, huh Claire!" he yelled some more. "You think you can just order—"
And then he stopped. What was the point? Nothing was going to change.
We come to a moment in the story that forever changed Chris's life, a moment that gave him the power to revenge himself on his bitch of a sister Claire, on her best friend Ada, and on every one of those sneering, contemptuous girls she mingled with at school, along with anyone else who had made his existence a wretched hell…
Claire always loved to talk a lot of trash about Chris. It was like as if he was a punching bag for her. And it clicked in Chris's mind.
Remove the punching bag…
…
Stay tuned for more if you're interested.