Joni C69: I don't think the BurgerTac's in here. Maybe I'll add him somewhere.
FumaFam101: I was feeling a little sentimental for this story the other day and decided to use that to finish it off and finally give everyone a real ending.
I would like to thank my good friend BizarreJoe for supporting me and this story and for occasionally bothering me to finish it. When I decided, Friday night, to wite these chapters - when I decided I may write these chapters - he's the first one I talked to about them. He also came up with two of the major plot points in a later chapter. Check him out here on FFN, he's a great writer and the whole reason I wanted to ship Lemy and Lizy in the first place.
Lyrics to Twisted Transistor by Korn (2005)
Lyra Loud perched on the edge of the work bench with her arms crossed over her chest and impatiently tapped one stylish boot on the cement floor. Leia sat in a straight back kitchen chair with her arms folded and her head whipped to one side. Liby stood over her, hands clasped behind her hand. A lamp shone in Leia's face and every so often, the little blonde lost her composure and blinked. "Are you going to talk?" Liby asked. "Or am I going to have to torture you?"
"You wouldn't dare," Leia said.
Turning on her heels, Liby went to a desk, opened a tool box, and took out a pair of pliers. She wasn't really going to torture Leia, but Leia didn't know that. At least, Lyra didn't think she would tortue Leia.
She turned and walked back over to the chair. Leia's defiant mask slipped. "You won't really do it."
"Try me," Liby said, "I've been itching to yank someone's teeth out for months."
Leia's eyes darted uncertainly from Liby to Lyra and back again. "Go ahead," she said. There was little force in her voice.
"Why are you mad at Gwen?" Liby asked.
That was enough to assure Leia that she was not, in fact, going to have the teeth yanked from her head. "It's none of your business."
"I think it is," Lyra said, forestalling Liby's reply. She got to her feet and strode over, her heels clicking on the concrete. "You almost hit her and you almost hit Lizy too."
Leia rolled her eyes. "I was not going to hit Lizy."
"Yeah?" Lyra asked. "It sure looked like you were. Look, we just wanna help."
"Okay then," Leia said, "go pack Gwen's bags."
Lyra hung her head and drew a deep breath. A long time ago, she wasn't a very good big sister. She was more worried about getting laid and having fun than she was about her siblings. Given Liena and Loan's, um, personalities, they weren't fit to be the Official Big Sister the way Aunt Lori was for her siblings. That role rightly fell to Lyra, but she completely blew it off. A lot had changed in her family over the past few weeks, and she was committed to changing too. She no longer slept with her father (and had only been with Lemy three times, when the physical cravings got really bad), and was trying her hardest to be a better big sis.
This...whatever...between Gwen and Leia was the first test of her resolve, and though she didn't show it (she hoped), she had no idea what the hell she was even doing. Being a cool big sister is easy - blow your brother, let your sisters stay up all night, order pizza - but being a good big sister was hard as fuck.
"C'mon," she said earnestly, "we wanna help, stop giving us attitude and just tell us what your problem is."
"I don't like Gwen anymore."
"Why?"
"She's a fucking ho."
Liby twirled the pliers in her hand and fixed them with a loving gaze. "Don't you sell blowjobs, Leia?"
No response.
"There's a reason," Lyra said. "Just tell us. What, did you have a fight? Did she do something to you? Work with me here."
For a second, Leia looked like she was going to say something, then it was gone. "Can I go now?"
Liby stared longingly at the pliers, her nostrils flaring. If Lyra didn't know any better, she'd say her younger sister was getting horny. She wasn't, though. She missed the thrill of being a secret agent/mercenary/whatever the hell she called herself. Lyra could feel her pain: She missed being fucked from behind by random dudes she didn't know and would never see again. The thrill of being bad, the taboo, the diiiiick…
She coughed.
That was all in the past, though. From now on, she'd only do Lemy here and there until she found a steady boyfriend, a guy she could love and make a life with. No more casual, anonoymus sex with total strangers and no more slutting her fevered little butt all over town. No more being penetrated while -
She was starting to get turned on.
Damn it.
"Yes, you can go now," Liby said. She was cross eyed looking at the pliers and her tone was hazy, faraway.
Leia got up, stuck her tongue out at Lyra, and marched up the stairs. When she was gone, Lyra threw her head back and let out a frustrated puff of air. "I suck," she said. It came out blasse, but she meant it. She sucked as a big sister. Her little sis had some serious shit going on and she couldn't get it out of her. A better big sister would have; a better big sister would have coaxed the story out and made everything better. But not her. All she was good for was sucking dick and pissing everyone off with her God talk. She was over the Christian thing, but - what did it matter? Christian or not, she was a loser.
She looked at Liby and raised her brow. Liby stared lovingly at the pliers and stroked the cold metal teeth with her middle finger. "Uh, Lib, I get that you missing being 007 but -"
"Shhh," Liby said, "let me have my memories."
Oooookay then.
Leaving Liby to her memories, Lyra went upstairs. In the kitchen, Aunt Leni sat at the table with her legs crossed and hummed an airy tune to herself as she scrolled through her phone. You know, Leni's simple but she's always happy; she was the sweetest, most caring person Lyra had ever known, and sometimes she wished she could trade in her old slutty Lyra brain for a Leni Model. Better to be dumb and awesome than smart (okay, let's face it, average) and a fuck up.
Lyra sighed, and Leni jerked. "Oh," she said and relaxed, "Hi, Lyra."
"Hey," Lyra said. "What are you doing?"
"Looking at adoption agencies," Leni said. "I want a new baby and since your dad's fixed, I gotta buy one at the baby store." She pouted.
A new baby? Lyra inwardly groaned. They hadn't even recovered from the last one. Speaking of which, where was she? Probably sitting in a web in the vents somewhere waiting for a rat to come along. Shiver. Of all the outlandish things Lyra had ever seen, Lulu was number one. Lyra loved her to pieces, but really, a mutant, Aunt Lisa? What, are you too good to push a kid out the old fashioned way?
"Good luck with that," Lyra said and went into the living room. She highly doubted Leni would get her new baby. Thank God for small favors. Lyra could barely handle the siblings she had much less another infant.
Man she needed to get fucked.
Heh. Who said that? Not me. I'm not a slut anymore, remember?
Plus, like Lisa said, it was okay to like sex and to have it with guys who aren't your brother and father. Like, seriously, she could let them double team her all day long and it was perfectly fine, but the moment she did a guy who wasn't related to her, she was a slut? Yeah, that was pretty flawed logic. And she was dumb enough to let it get to her. Oh, you're a slut, Lyra, ewww. NOOOOO, I DON'T WANT TO BE A SLUT. Please, you're just mad I'm not fucking you. Guess what, buddy, even hos like me have standards, and if your man tits stick out farther than your dick does, chances are, you're probably not getting any pussy any time soon. Seethe harder, incel.
She realized her panties were damp and threw her head back. Goddamn it, I'm not even thinking sexy thoughts! Why? WHY?
Feeling sorry for herself, Lyra went upstairs and took a cold shower.
Her first of many that day.
That night, Lemy lay between Gwen and Lizy, his arm around either one's shoulders and his flaccid dick resting limply against his thigh. Gwen and Lizy took turns with their mouths, Gwen's technique refined and toe curling and Lizy's sloppy and clumsy but enthusiastic. He nutted in Gwen's mouth and when he was done, she and Lizy kissed, his load swishing back and forth between their mouths until both had swallowed an equal share. He offered to get them off too, but they were happy humping his legs.
LMAO, whatever gets you there.
Now, alone with his thoughts, it was high time to worry.
Or to think of irrelevant shit.
That was kind of a dangerous coping mechanism. He was like the dog in that meme. It's sitting there with a cup of Joe while its house fucking burns all around it. And it's all like THIS IS FINE. Everyone has their own way of dealing with shit, though. Some guys hid away in video games, some guys hid away in pussy, and some guys hid away in the chambers of their own mind. His mind was fertile ground, but it was kind of running on empty, Jackson Browne style. That was a seventies singer-songwriter. God, has there ever been a more pretentious kind of musician? They were the kind of guys who sat on a stool with their acoustic guitar and sang about flowers and shit. Some of it was pretty good, but a lot of it sucked. If we're going back to the seventies, I'll take some Dr. Hook.
They have a video on YouTube of them singing a song called Walk Right In. Kind of a...what would you call it...country inspired sort of song? He didn't know, but there was this dude in the background shredding a harmonica. Guy was basically the Angus Young of wind instruments. I like to think that that video was his audition. Alright, kid, come play this song with us and if you do good, you're in. Naturally, he goes out and plays like his fucking life depends on it. In fact, he kind of reminded Lemy of Lizy, just replace the harmonica with a dick.
And they had another one about being stoned. Big porn star looking guy with a luscious mustache sang it. Had moves like a fucking karate star, too.
Lemy ran his fingers through his tangled hair and looked at Gwen. Asleep, she was at peace, but awake, her spirit was in turmoil. As it had been this whole time. From the very beginning of their relationship, he'd been making her feel unloved, first with basically deadfishing her and pining for Lyra, now with this harem shit. She didn't say anything anymore, but he suspected that it still bothered her. And that's what was bothering Leia. Gwen said she was okay with Leia joining, but he didn't want to add anymore heads. Mainly for Gwen's sake. He already had Lizy and Loan and why did he keep hurting Gwen? The first girl to ever love him, honestly love him, and every chance he got, he plunged a dagger into her heart. Now Loan was pregnant...and Lizy...and Leia...and, man, where did this go wrong?
The first time he banged one of his sisters?
What if...what if he and Leia didn't do it that day? What if he wasn't hung up on Lyra? What if his first time was with Gwen and he was able to love her and only her?
Life's full of what ifs, huh? I'm young but I can clearly see that. Imagine having ten, twenty, or even thirty years of regrets piled on your chest. How do people do it?
In other news, did you know you can plug a Sega Genesis controller into an Atari 2600? He had a couple Atari carts in his closet and meant to build a 2600 on his own, but he kind of forgot. Those games were ancient and probably didn't even work anyway. What was he really missing, though? The 2600 Pac-Man port? AKA the second most disappointing game ever behind only ET? ET was a real let down. It was confusing and the controls sucked, so everyone either brought it back to the store or didn't buy it to begin with. Atari finally buried a bunch of cartridges in a mass grave in the desert. Legend has it that on cold, windy nights, you can still hear bleeps and boops, like a mournful call from the beyond.
He yawned. Tomorrow, he started at Flip's, and he was already preparing for a neverending roast session. But hey, he got roasted at school, at least now he was getting paid to take it on his face.
Not much, though. Flip paid minimum wage and that's not enough to raise a kid on. If he worked hard and didn't give up, maybe one day his checks wouldn't be a joke, but who knew.
The edges of his brain were beginning to blur like ink, and he could feel himself dropping off. He turned and kissed Lizy's forehead, then Gwen's. She smiled faintly in her sleep, and Lemy's heart swelled with love. He slipped his left arm out from between Lizy and the mattress and brushed his thumb across Gwen's chin.
"I love you," he said around a lump of emotion, "and I promise I always will."
He kissed her again, then turned out the light, plunging the room into darkness.
That night, he lay awake for a long, long time.
Hey you, hey you, devil's little sister
Listening to your twisted transistor
The girl sat alone in the dark, her legs crossed and her pallid features lit by the feeble glow of a midnight cigarette. Unseen smoke swirled around her head like dancing phantoms and her watery eyes stared past the window across the room. A cold shaft of moonlight fell through the nicotine smudged glass and crept across the floor. An hour ago - maybe more, maybe less - it barely reached past the bed, now it was almost to her foot, coming ever closer like a hungry mass in a Stephen King story.
Too bad it wasn't.
Hold it between your legs
Turn it up, turn it up
The wind is coming through
She brought the filter to her lips and took a quick, mechanical drag, the cherry momentarily brightening to reveal even more of her fish-like face. She blew a plume of smoke without tasting it and went on staring at the window. Days ago, weeks, maybe even years, she told herself that she would stop doing what she did with her father. She wanted a normal relationship with him. She wanted to be normal. Only she wasn't. She was broken. Shake her and hear the bits and pieces rattle.
A sardonic smile played at the corners of her lips but fled just as quickly as it came.
A lonely life where no one understands you
But don't give up because the music do
Music do music do
This wasn't new, the deep melancholia and self-loathing had always been a part of her, just like her white hair and brown eyes. She wasn't dropped in transit, she wasn't used and abused into an early grave by her owner...this is just how she was. She hated what she saw in the mirror, so she didn't look into them; she hated the sound of her own voice, so she rarely spoke above a whisper; she was never comfortable out there, in the world, the great big open, so she sequestered herself here, iin her bedroom, where she could close the door and be alone with her demons.
Because the music do
And then it its reaching
Inside you forever preaching
Fuck you too
Your screams will whisper
Hang on you
Twisted transistor
She threw her head back and let out a genuine laugh. Oh, that was rich. Alone with demons in a place of sadness. Hahahaha. She sounded just like her mother. Only Mom was faking. Mom didn't know what real sadness was. Real sadness, terminal sadness, comes not from without, but from within, manufactured by all the little twisted transistors in your heart and soul, whispering words of hate to each other. Some people are naturally light and buoyant, others sour and somber. She was the latter. She always had been.
What was wrong with her?
Hey you, hey you, finally you get it
The world it can eat you if you let it
Inexplicable fury rose in her breast, and she balled her free hand into a fist. She was not aware of her jagged, unclipped nails digging into the padding of her palm, nor did she notice that an ember had fallen from her cigarette and landed on the carpet, where it flared then went out. She bought her fist down on the arm of the chair and relished in the pain shooting up her arm. Fucking stupid shit. Fucking STUPID. She had no fucking reason for this. She had not one fucking excuse for feeling like this and she was sick of it. She was sick of the highs and lows, sick of surging with energy one minute then curling up in a ball on the floor the next. Suicide? No, fuck suicide, and fuck you too. She didn't wanna die. No one wants to die. She wanted to be happy. When someone fucking kills themselves it's because they've lost hope of being happy. There's something deeply wrong and they can't handle it. Guarantee everyone who's ever killed themselves would have rather been happy instead. Even poor old Hitler down in his bunker.
And as your tears fall on
Your dress, your dress
But when she's coming through
You're in a mess
She was happy...sometimes. Other times she was so sad that she cried for no reason at all. There you go, broken thing. "I probably need help," she croaked in the darkness.
For some reason she could not name, that struck her as funny and she laughed until she cried, then cried until she laughed again. She looked her symptoms up on WebMD once and it was probably bipolar, though it could be something else. The severe highs and lows she felt were in line with BPD, so yeah, she was likely bipolar. Another cherry on top of the sunade called life. What's next, lung cancer?
She looked at her cigarette.
Eh. It takes a while.
A lonely life where no one understands you
But don't give up because the music do
Music do music do
One symptom they didn't cover on WebMD was the need for constant validation. That's what she had, you know. She only felt good and loved and worthy and all that other shit when she was fucking her father. She was garbage when she was anywhere else but in his arms; with him, she felt...whole? Complete?
She cocked her head to the side. No, not exactly those things. She felt...she felt like she had a purpose or...or...value. How fucked up is that? Staking your personal worth on other peoples' opinions is pretty fucking stupid, but she couldn't help it. She was the cracked mug. Fill it up with love and watch it all drain out until it's empty again. Rinse, recycle, repeat.
Hey you, hey you, this won't hurt a bit
This won't hurt a bit, this won't hurt
Says who, says who?
Anesthetize this bitch
Anesthetize this bitch,
Now she was tired. She took another drag of her cigarette and tipped the ash on the floor. Dad or Mom or someone would lose their shit if they saw that. Lana would love it because it meant she got to rip up the carpet and lay down a new one. Don't they realize how pointless their busy work is? How pointless all of it ultimately is?
EDGELORD, the ghosts in the wings cried.
Fuck you.
Just fuck you. She was so sick of stupid people who couldn't think past the tip of their nose. They look at her like she' was a fucking poser or a joke. You'd think they'd know how pointless it all is considering they're losers. They flip burgers, play games on the internet, and eat Ramen standing over the sink. They're life has no meaning. Their life has no purpose. They think they're special and unique, but they're not. They're just another cog in the wheel of time. When they break, you clean their apartment up and rent it out to someone else, boom, it's like they never lived in the first place. They're totally expendable. Most of us are.
Does that mean give up and die? No, not at all. It just meant...laugh a little, you're a piece of shit and nothing matters. She didn't matter. She knew that. She was just another suburban white girl. Put her in a dress or jeans, pink or baclk, it didn't matter. We're all the same. Some might be a little smarter or prettier, but our spots in hell are all 1000 degrees. Everything we do is just killing time. Don't people get that? Some of us kill time better than others, but we all fill our hours waiting for death some way. You do it with 4chan and video games, I do it sitting in the dark and chain smoking. You can laugh at me, and I can laugh at you. Haw haw. But what's the point?
Unless you enjoy laughing at other people, I guess. She didn't. There's nothing inherently funny about misery. It's just another state of being.
The cigarette reached her fingers and stung her flesh. She winced, stubbed it out on the arm of the chair, and flicked the butt into the shadows. She thought for the millionth time of her brother, the only boy - the only person - who made her feel as good as Dad did. It was a different feeling, not altogether the same, but it was close, and the more she ran him through her mind, the more she realized she wanted him, wanted to gaze into his eyes as she made him cum, wanted to see on his face the affection and devotion she once saw on her father's, wanted to know that he loved her and thought she was pretty.
Wanted to know that to him...in that one moment of surrender...she wasn't meaningless.
In other words, she had the sick compulsion to wreck the only halfway normal relationship she had. She had always been closer to Lemy than to anyone else because they were both outsiders. Neither one of them fit. They were both deep thinkers and, she suspected, they both carried a great burden in their hearts. Why didn't they hook up already? Why didn't she go into his room long ago, slip into his bed, and share his loneliness? Why didn't she go to him instead of Dad? They could have been together and maybe...maybe they could have made each other happy.
Hot tears welled in her eyes and she wiped them away with the frayed cuff of her hoodie. She still could...but she didn't want to fuck this up too. She would never have a normal relationship with her father, never. She'd seen too much of him, done too many things to him. She knew her dad in a way that a girl was never supposed to know her father. None of her sisters would ever be able to look at him as just Dad, he would always be something else, something perverted, something he was not meant to be. Surely, the others felt the same abiding shame that she did. That shit doesn't go away. It sticks with you for a lifetime.
She ruined her relationship with her father and now she had her sights set on Lemy, the one normal and beautiful thing she could claim.
Reaching out, she slid another cigarette from her pack and lit it. Her hand shook and images she didn't want to entertain raced through her head. Lemy running his hands over her naked body, kissing her pasty skin as though it were ambrosia, Lemy sinking himself into her and kissing her deeply as his hips began to rock. She saw herself hook her feet over his and holding his hips the way she did with Dad; subconsciously keeping them from leaving her? He'd hold her afterwards the way she'd seen him hold Gwen and Lizy and Loan. Dad never did that. He didn't pull her to his strong chest, kiss the back of her neck, and stroke her body until she was hot and shivering again. He just...laid there, looking up at the ceiling like he just made a huge mistake and hated himself for it. Lemy wasn't like that...he would cuddle her and tickle the backs of her legs with his toes until her stony facade crumbled and she giggled like a girl. He would…
A thought struck her like a bullet from the black, and her heart leapt against her ribcage in startled excitement.
He would fix her.
If she was a broken mug, he would be the sealant that closed the crack and kept all the love he poured into her from coming out. It all made sense to her, she couldn't retain her father's love because he wasn't giving her any. Lemy would. Lemy would hold her, kiss her, touch her, play with her hair, he'd do all of the things that she had been so desperately yearning for. He would do for her what he did for Loan and Gwen, he would make her happy.
And she could make him happy in return. None of the others understood him the way she did. Gwen...well...maybe a little because she was something of an outsider too, but not in her own body...not in her own mind. Gwen and the others might understand facets of Lemy's personality, but she had a broader picture. She knew what lurked in his heart because it was the same thing that lurked in hers. They were both fractured people...and two halves make a whole, don't they?
In the darkness, Lupa smiled.