Lincoln Loud looked suspiciously around, opened the door, and slipped inside. A long, sunwashed hallway lined with lockers opened up in front of him, and the distant echo of voices found his ears. Footfalls rang through the building and he cocked his head to listen. When he judged that they were getting closer, his stomach shot into his throat and he ducked behind a trash can. He crouched down and poked his head around the side to watch. At the T-shaped junction ahead, a girl in a gold jersey and shorts passed by, and a second later, two more girls darted by. They laughed over something Lincoln missed, and the sound of their voices made his heart race,
He waited until he was sure they were gone, then came out of his hiding spot. Bent slightly at the waist, he rushed down the hall, doing his best to be silent. At the end of the hall, he pressed his back to the wall and listened. He could hear more talking, but it sounded like it was coming from far away. It was a Saturday and Royal Woods Elementary was empty, so sound carried and it was difficult to judge where it was coming from. While he waited, his eyes went to a camera mounted in a corner. It was behind one of those reflective mirror bubble things so you couldn't tell it was a camera, but he knew it was there, watching, recording. He didn't have to worry, though. They only checked the camera footage when there was a reason to. Royal Woods outsourced its security to a third party company located in Hazeltucky, and the footage streamed to their servers, meaning that there was no chance of a bored secretary or security guard watching the footage to pass the time. If a window was broken at some point today or tomorrow, there was a possibility that someone would see him, but that was a remote concern. He had been doing this for six months and no one was the wiser.
Granted, all things must come to an end, but Lincoln was confident that he didn't have to worry about the cameras. He may get caught one day, but not by your friendly neighborhood eye in the sky. His biggest worry was accidentally bumping into a coach, janitor, or one of the girls. Even then, he was sure he could lie his way out of it. As long as no one walked in on him in the act, he was good.
Gathering his courage, he peeked around the corner. The hallway terminated 500 feet away at a rear door leading out onto the athletic field. Three quarters of the way, the gym opened onto the right, directly across from the cafeteria - you could pig out and walk right across the hall to work it all off.
Let's go.
Lincoln kept close to the wall and hurried to the gym. Sunlight filtered through the high windows and made the polished basketball court glisten like the still surface of a sun-dappled lake. There were offices to one side and locker rooms to the other. In between the boys and girls locker rooms was a locked door to a narrow service hallway.
At least...it was supposed to be locked.
Lincoln was a good kid. He did all of his homework (whether he wanted to or not), was never late, and always called his teachers sir or ma'am. The other kids poked fun at him for being a butt-sucking teacher's pet (Poppa Wheelie's words, not his) but Lincoln had discovered something: It pays to be on good terms with the teachers. Because of his good reputation, he had a certain latitude that not many other students enjoyed. The teachers and staff trusted him...so much that the principal was perfectly comfortable letting Lincoln run errands. A few months back, Lincoln was handpicked to serve a week as hall monitor by the principal. He got an orange belt, a tin badge, a whistle, and a ticket pad. He has the power to write people up and send them to detention, a power that excited and intoxicated him. Not openly abusing it was the hardest thing that Lincoln had ever done but he prided himself on being able to control his impulses.
One day, while he was walking his beat during class change, the principal called him into the office. A sweaty fat man with tiny horn rimmed glasses and more chins than a Chinese phone book, Mr. Evans has replaced Mr. Huggins after the former retired and moved to Florida the previous year. He wore a dark suit and tie even in 90 degree heat and was constantly soaked in perspiration. He was the kind of guy who got winded after five paces, the kind who needed to stop and rest three times while climbing a single flight of stairs, the kind whose penis was encased in folds of fat. Other than that, he was a decent guy and always took Lincoln's side.
Mr. Evans directed him to carry a box of surplus staplers to the storage closet off the gym. Lincoln had no idea where that was so Mr. Evans told him. The door in the gym opened onto a long hallway. There were three rooms back there, two of which were used to store random things. The third was a mop closet that the janitor rarely ever used. "I need the key," Lincoln said.
"No you don't," Mr. Evans said. "The handle is locked but the door doesn't close properly. Just push on it."
Oh, really?
Lincoln did as he was told, and sure enough, the door popped open with a little shove.
Interesting.
While he was carrying the staplers to their new home on a dusty shelf, he heard giggling coming through one of the walls. He stopped, pressed his ear to it, and listened. He could make out a faint hiss like -
It hit him.
Duh, he was hearing the girls locker room. A dozen wet, soapy, naked girls were just feet away, separated from him by a thin layer of wall. Lincoln's dick twitched against the inseam of his jeans and a hot lump of coal formed in his throat. He had never seen a naked girl in real life before and the close proximity of them made his heart slam. He was a normal boy going through that cruel and hateful biological transformation known as puberty, so the last few months had been hard on him. All he thought about were sex and naked women. It was so bad that even a stiff breeze was enough to turn him on, He read that all boys were like this but he suspected that he had a more chronic case than most; he needed sex the way an alcoholic needs booze. No, he had never had it before but he had spent lots of time imagining it and watching porn. Never having had it before made his need sharper, keener. He longed to run his hands up and down a girl's leg to see if it was really as silky smooth as it looked. He dreamed of holding a breast in his hand; he desired the primal dominance seemingly inherent in the act of missionary.
And it was this need that led him to drill a hole in the wall and peep into the girls' locker room.
Every chance he got, he would sneak into his haven and watch them in the shower, their supple young bodies turning him on so much that he couldn't help but touch himself. He saw everything that almost every girl in school had - their tiny breasts, their budding hips, the dank and mysterious Y between their thighs. If he watched too long, he would become an animal, panting and heaving with lust, but he was too weak to look away when the fever reached his brain. On more than one occasion, he came so close to going in there and slinging his dick through ten or fifteen girls that he got goosebumps. One time, he stopped himself as he was going out the door to the gym. He couldn't do that. He'd go to juvie or something.
But he wanted it so freaking bad.
The safest and most fruitful time to peek through his peephole was on Saturday. Royal Woods had a girls' team for almost every sport imaginable so there were always girls at school and practicing on the weekends. Because the camera system was unmanned and the school was largely empty, getting in (and off) was a breeze.
Presently, Lincoln hurried to the door, gave it a shove, and went inside, closing it behind him. He scurried down the shadowy hallway and stopped at a motivational poster depicting a group of kids - one black, one Asian, one girl, one in a wheelchair, one was AIDS, one who believed the earth was flat, and one fatass. DIVERSITY it said. He untacked it from the wall and a tiny pinprick of light shot through the peephole. He sat the poster aside, pushed up on his tippy toes, and pressed his eye to the hole.
Beyond, a gaggle of girls washed themselves with soap and water. Steam hung heavy in the air and the warm, fruity smell of shampoo found Lincoln's nose. Girl Jordan stood on the far side of the room, her back to him and her tight little butt begging to be touched. She half turned to say something to one of her friends, and Lincoln tweaked her pinkish nipple with his eye. Heat crept over him from head to toe and his dick swelled until it was pushing out the front of his jeans. His throat went completely dry and his breathing became deeper, more ragged. Cristina strutted by and soap suds dribbled down Stella's back before disappearing into the crack of her ass. Polly Pain dropped the soap and bent to get it; she waasn't a pretty girl but the way her ass cheeks spread to reveal her moist, pink center made him want to fuck her anyway.
When the pressure in his loins became too much and he started to pant, he unzipped the front of his jeans and slipped his hand into his briefs. He wrapped his fingers around his dick and winced at how hot it was. If this were a cartoon, it would be glowing orange like super heated metal. He started to rub one off, but half way through, he heard a chilling sound.
A key in the lock.
Someone was trying to come in.
Panic gripped him, and moving on pure reflex, he slapped the poster to the wall, covering the hole, and jabbed the thumbtack back into it. It hung askew but he didn't have time to put it to rights.
Just as the door opened, he dashed into the supply room and wedged himself between the wall and a metal shelf just like he had practiced. He held his breath and waited.
Footsteps approached, and a moment later, a shadow appeared on the wall. Did someone see him? Was he wrong about the cameras?
Had he been caught?
A dark figure came into the room, passing just feet away, and sat something down with a strained grunt. They - Lincoln had the feeling it was a man - dusted their hands, wheeled around without seeing him, and walked away. He listened to their footfalls retreating, and then to the door opening and closing. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, and slid down the wall to a sitting position.
That was close.
Too close.
He was too afraid of going back to the peephole, so he just sat there, waiting for a chance to leave. His balls were full and achy and his mind clouded with lust. He almost took his dick out and whacked it right there but decided against it.
After an hour, he crept to the door and poked his head out.
Silence.
He darted across the gym, pushed through a side door, and ran around the building to the empty parking lot. It was near dusk and the light was low and crimson, shadows long on the ground. The laughter of children rang out in the distance and he caught a quick whiff of freshly cut grass. He hurried his step, hit the street, and took a left. The school was eight blocks from home. He could be there in twenty minutes.
As he walked, he thought back to the girls in the shower and his erection came back full force. He bent at the waist and tried to will it away, but it throbbed harder and hotter than ever. He didn't get to finish what he was doing and right now, he was so backed up that he could barely stand it. As soon as he got home, he was going right to the bathroom, grabbing some lotion, and jacking off. Normally he couldn't do that until everyone else was asleep because someone would invariably barge into his room, but everyone else was in Ann Arbor visiting Aunt Ruth for the week. Lincoln was alone...with Lucy.
No one wanted to visit Aunt Ruth, but for Lucy, it was a special kind of hell. Introverted and antisocial, she hated being away from her special dark places and surrounded by people she didn't know or like. She was almost autistic in her aversion to change and would go into panic attacks at the thought of being forced to spend extended amounts of time in unfamiliar surroundings. That didn't stop Mom and Dad from dragging her along every time they had to go to Ann Arbor...which was pretty frequently since Aunt Ruth was sickly and constantly in need of help. Last month, she had her tenth stroke (making the next one free). She was in the hospital for a while and got out last Monday. There was no one else to take care of her, so Mom and Dad volunteered. How charitable, right? Seeing the writing on the wall, Lucy panicked and pretended to be sick with a stomach bug. Mom was going to stay back with her, but Lincoln, not wanting to go to Aunt Ruth's either, offered to stay. "It's only a 48 hour thing," he lied. "It's been going around school."
The plan was for Lincoln to stay with Lucy alone for a couple days, then Mom would come back and pick them up. That first day alone together, Lincoln and Lucy hatched a plan. When Mom called to say she was coming, Lincoln would fake having the bug and Lucy would stay with him. That way, they could both avoid having to go to Aunt Ruth's altogether.
It was strange being alone in the house with only one other person. Lucy passed most of her time reading and sitting in the shadows, so it was like being by himself. It was sort of creepy, but then again, it was also really peaceful. He didn't know how he'd react to everyone coming back. Probably poorly.
By now, the sun sat low on the horizon and rays of weakening light sparkled between the houses on Franklin. A stray cat darted out from a heap of trash bags on the curb and a little girl flew by on a pink bicycle. Lincoln twisted around to check her out, but she was wearing a helmet and he couldn't see her face. He took her to be about five or six.
Not too young by far.
Sighing in sexual frustration, Lincoln hung his head and picked up his step. When he reached the house, he cut across the oil stained driveway, went up the walk, and let himself into the house. Deep, ear-piercing silence rushed over him and the smell of microwave popcorn greeted him. He locked the door behind him and went up the stairs. By the time he was at the top, his dick was pulsing with desire and he felt like he was going to explode. The bathroom door was closed, but he was too wrapped up in his own lust to notice. In the Loud House, the bathroom door was only closed when someone was in there. The rest of the time, it stood open.
Lincoln walked up to the door, getting hornier and honier with every step; sweet release was only moments away. He could already tell that this was going to be the biggest nut of his life.
He opened the door, took one step into the bathroom, and froze.
Lucy stood at the sink with her back to him, a towel around her neck like she was about to take a shower - her hair was dry so she hadn't already taken one.
She was also naked.
The air left Lincoln's lungs in a rush and his eyes were drawn to her butt. In her clothes, it looked pancake flat, but bare, it was tight and curved. Her hips were just rounded enough to suggest her biological purpose and her shoulder blades flexed beneath her skin as she tensed, realizing she was no longer alone. She turned around and Lincoln could see her front. Her tiny, blossoming breasts, her taut stomach, and the junction of her things, marked only by the top of her slit. Her bangs covered her eyes, but Lincoln could feel her looking at him. Her face was bland, expressionless. "Can I help you?" she asked.
Was his thinking clouded...or did that sound like an invitation?
Something happened to Lincoln then. If asked later on, he would describe it as going insane, but he wouldn't be able to remember exactly what it was like. He thought he became light-headed and that the world went dim and swimmy like a Hollywood flashback, but he couldn't recall. In an instant, he was shoving Lucy against the sink and kissing her neck. His hands were all over her, his knee wedged between her legs. "What are you doing?" she gasped. For the first time in recent memory, her voice wasn't dull and monotonous - it was animated and colored with emotion.
She sounded shocked.
And afraid.
Lincoln trailed urgent kisses up and down the side of her throat, the salty taste of her skin intoxicating him and urging him on. Up until now, Lucy had been frozen like a deer in oncoming headlights, but when his hand cupped her jiggling breast, she came alive and started to fight. She let out a growl of exertion and tried to push him off. The feeling of her body tensing and wiggling beneath his turned him on even more. He slipped his fingers into her hair and pressed his lips to hers. She clamped her mouth closed and he lashed them with his tongue. He wedged the tip in between them, pried them open, and jammed his tongue deep into her mouth. He grabbed her by the wrists and held them above her head; her back bent against the vanity and her breasts flattened. He could feel her heart rapidly pounding like a frightened little rabbit. His tongue chased hers around the inside of her mouth and her surprisingly powerful muscles clenched and unclenched as she tried to fight him off. She kicked his shin, and pain shot into the center of his skull. Flashing, he grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. Her eyes bugged out and her face began to turn red. His other hand dipped between her thighs and he forced his fingers between her silky lips, relishing the softness of her flesh. He fumbled around, looking for her opening, and found it, a tiny spot of moisture half way down. He pushed one finger into her and swirled it around. Her inner walls were slick and soft, like the inside of a mouth. They formed tightly around his finger as if to expel the intruder, and Lucy's eyes started to roll back into her head.
He realized what he was doing and let her go. Her knees gave out and she fell limply to the floor, where she gasped for air. She moved just right, and he caught a flash of her tight little twat between her ass cheeks. His mind went back to Jordan in the shower, and that was the moment of no return. He unzipped his jeans, pulled down his pants, and kicked them away. His hard cock made a sizable tent in his underwear. He peeled them off and threw them aside, his dick leading the way like a divining rod. He knelt behind Lucy, grabbed her hips, and pulled her to him. On some level, he was appalled at what he was doing, but he couldn't stop himself: A naked girl's hoo-ha was literal inches away from his weiner. He was finally, at long last, going to fuck a girl. He couldn't have stopped if he wanted to.
"Lincoln, stop!" Lucy cried. She tried to crawl away but Lincooln pulled her back. He reached down, took his dick in his hand, and guided it to her opening, her wet heat sending shivers down his spine. He pressed his tip to her entrance and moved his hips gently forward. His body penetrated hers and they both moaned, Lincoln in pleasure and Lucy in pain, He had always heard that girls were supposed to be tight, but he was still caught off guard by how small Lucy felt around his shaft. He could feel every inch of her molding around him; her muscles squeezed him and her walls spasmed up and down his dick as if mindlessly trying to coax the sperm from his balls. Lucy let out a series of pained gasps and tearfully begged him to stop. Lincoln could barely hear her over the roar of blood crashing against his temples and the meaty slapping of his flesh against hers. Even if he had, he couldn't have stopped; she felt too good, too warm, too wet. He had heard it said that the inside of a pussy felt like the filling of a warm apple pie; that wasn't 100 percent accurate, but it was close enough, and perhaps the only way he could describe the sensation of his little sister's virgin twat. It felt good, amazing, but it also kind of hurt. Make an OK sign with your thumb and forefinger, put your dick in the O, and squeeze, and you'll get a good idea of what Lucy felt like.
Digging his nails into her hips, Lincoln went faster, rutting her so hard that he imagined he was literally poking her guts. His tip bottomed out with every forward thrust and Lucy let out a breathless sound of pain. He had just started but he was already close, the sound of her breathing, the feeling of her skin, and the smell of her cherry popping under his assault conspiring to make him blow his load. He leaned into her, forcing her to take him all the way to the base, and he reached under her with both hands, roughly grabbing her tender breasts. He tweaked her nipples and her body tightened around him.
There was no more holding back; he was going to cum whether he wanted to or not. Giving one final thrust, he gave in and let himself go. His seed shot deep into her womb and made her jump before pooling in her stomach. He yanked out and splattered her hair and back with long, silvery strands. He was no longer holding her up, so she fell to the floor and rolled onto her back. Lincoln painted her flushed face and heaving chest with jizz. He knew it was going to be a big nut but even he was shocked by how much there was; Lucy was almost literally covered.
When it finally stopped, he caught his breath and admired her. She was curled up on the floor, her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Silent tears tracked down her blushing face and her body shook lightly, lending her the appearance of a small, traumatized dog. She was soaked in cum from the top of her head to the wrinkled soles of her feet and more oozed out of her raw, pink sex. Lincoln had never seen a girl look better than she did at that moment.
Getting to his feet, he walked over to the tub, turned on the water, and waited until it was hot. He adjusted the temperature and waited again. Deeming it just right, he turned around and went over to Lucy, who had used the toilet to get to her knees. He closed his arms around her from behind and she started to flop like a fish. "Stop," she said, "let me go."
Ignoring
her, he dragged her over to the tub and heaved her in. She scrambled to a sitting position and scooted all the way to the back of the tub, hugging herself and staring down at her lap. Her shoulders began to shake buit still, she made no sound. Lincoln got into the tub, closed the curtain, and proceeded to wash himself off, paying extra attention to his dick. After a while, he felt like he had to pee, and an image flashed through his mind and his dick stirred. He had never thought of doing anything like this before, but all at once, it struck him as really hot. Turning around, he held his cock, aimed it at Lucy, and started to piss. The stream hit the top of Lucy's head and soaked her hair. She shook harder, and for the first time, Lincoln could actually hear her cry. Seeing her there, broken and tearful, covered in his jizz and piss, made his heart race. No...he had never seen a more beautiful girl than his little sister after he raped her.
"Stop whimpering," he said, surprising himself. "You should be happy someone wanted to fuck you, you little ball of trash."
He didn't know why, but saying that to her felt good.
It felt right.
"Please stop," she said, her voice breaking with misery.
"You don't like being pissed on, Spooky? I bet if I was Edwin you'd like it. Fucking necrophile."
Lucy sobbed.
After four minutes - the longest piss he'd ever taken - Lucy was saturated. "Turn around," he said, "let me see your dirty little asshole."
Lucy didn't move.
"Now," he said, "or I'll knock your fucking head off."
Still crying, Lucy turned around and stuck her ass in the air, powerless to do anything but obey her brother's command. Lincoln coated her back with piss, moving the stream down between her butt cheeks and to her puckered butt hole. He aimed at her pussy and was sure that he got some directly into her opening. The way his piss mixed with his sperm and glistened on Lucy's pale skin turned him on all over again, and the stream cut off when he got hard. Standing over her as she knelt there, crying and miserable, Lincoln felt an incredible sense of power. For perhaps the first time in his life, the tables had turned and he was in control. His sisters always treated him like an object, but now the shoe was on the other foot and he was treating one of them like an object. "You're my cum sock now, Luce," he said. "I'm gonna fuck you whenever I want. You're my property and you listen to everything I say. Is that understood?"
She hitched.
"Do you understand, Lucy?"
"Yes," she croaked.
Satisfied, Lincoln turned around and grabbed the detachable showerhead dad had recently installed. It took it out of its cradle and quickly sprayed his crotch and armpits. Done, he turned back to Lucy and aimed it at her. "You're disgusting," Lincoln said. Piss and sperm rolled off of her in dirty rivulets and circled the drain. Lucy just sat there, hugging herself and alternating between crying and hyperventilating. Lincoln sneered down at her the way he might a bug. He grabbed a bottle of shampoo, opened it, and squirted it all over her, covering her head and shoulders with a thick, pinkish lather. "Wash," he ordered.
Mechanically, Lucy rubbed the shampoo into her arms and chest. Lincoln squirted some into her hair, and she massaged it into her scalp. He sprayed it all off, then ordered her to get on her hands and knees again. She did so, and he knelt beside her. He washed off her pussy, and while he was in the area, he got a closer look at her butt hole. It looked like the ones he'd seen in porn only smaller. He poked it with his finger, and Lucy jumped. She hugged herself and her wet hair parted just enough that one fright-filled eye was visible through it. Lincoln raised his hand and she flinched, which made him chuckle. Insteado closing his hand around her throat, he brushed it over her cheek. She trembled and stared at him warily, her little breasts rising and falling with the rapid pace of her breath. Lincoln trailed his index finger down to her nipple and swirled it around. Tears shimmered in Lucy's eye and her lips quivered like she was going to break down again. "You're really underdeveloped for a girl your age," Lincoln commented. "You have a body like a boy." He reached between her thighs and with a sharp intake of breath, she clamped them closed, trapping his hand between them. He headbutted her and they released. She whipped her head to one side and Lincoln plunged his fingers deep into her birth canal. Her face crinkled in pain and tears spilled down her cheeks. He forced his fingers even deeper, and she let out an agonized scream that made his dick shiver. He pressed his lips to her pulse and licked it as he began to roughly finger her. She looked away and tried to hold back her tears, knowing that there was nothing she could do. If Lincoln wanted her, he would take her; there was stopping him, no slowing him.
When his teeth closed on her throat, red pain exploded through her body and she reflexively jerked, taking his fingers to her cervix. That pain was even greater, and she wept openly. Lincoln worked his fingers in all the way to the knuckle and kissed her throat. When he reached her ear, he nipped it, and then ran he lashed it with his tongue. He forced Lucy onto her back, gripped her ankles, and pulled her legs as far apart as the tub would allow, enjoying the burst of pain across her face. Her folds opened like the petals of a meaty flower to reveal the soft, succulent honeypot within. Lincoln mounted her, pressed his dick to her opening, and slid in slowly, watching her face and relishing the way her lips slipped over him, and the way her natural lubrication coated his dick. He pulled back and slammed in again, this time with all his strength. Lucy's eyes bulged from their sockets and her mouth opened in a wide, yawning scream, but only a wheeze came out.
Lincoln held her ankles and began to rut her, being as rough as he could. Her muscles strained and burned like they were going to rip, and every time his head battered the back of her womb, her heart throbbed. Lincoln ran his hands over her stomach and breasts, tweaking her nipples and making her dizzy with pain. Worst of all was the feeling of him inside of her. He was big for his age and he filled her to the point of bursting, and because she was dry down there, it felt like she was being fucked by a splintery 2x4. The physical pain combined with the mental and emotional pain made her cry, but her body tensing around his felt even worse.
"God, please stop!" she cried.
"I am your God," Lincoln said and thrusted hard. He was going out of his way to intentionally make it hurt, and Lucy screamed in a mixture of pain and frustration.
Just when she was starting to think she was going to pass out from the agony, Lincoln pulled out and squatted over her. There was a crazed gleam in his eye and not for the first time since the rape began, Lucy was afraid of him. He grabbed her by the hair with one hand and dragged her head off the floor of the showe. With his other hand, he held his dick to her lips. "Suck it," he said.
Lucy didn't move.
Lincoln shook her head, jostling her brain and making her dizzy. "Stop!"
"Suck my dick," Lincoln growled.
She stared up at him for a moment, breathless and afraid. Lincoln had always been so kind, so gentle. He was the one person in her family who understood her, the one person she could go to without being judged. He wasn't only her brother, he was also her friend, her protector, her confidant. Now all of that was gone. In its place was a snarling sex manaic with glazed eyes. The old Lincoln was dead, and the new Lincoln was a monster.
Swallowing thickly, Lucy stuck out her tongue and touched it to the tip of his dick. It was salty and hot with fever. A shudder of revulsion ran through her and Lincoln shook her harder. "All of it."
Weeping, Lucy took him into her mouth and bobbed her head sloppily back and forth. She had never done anything like this before, never wanted to do anything like it, and had no idea how to do it. She knew that she couldn't scrape him with her teeth, otherwise he'd get mad and beat her up. Her heart pounded against her breast and she closed her eyes, terrified of doing something wrong and incurring his wrath. Lincoln held her head in his hands and began to rock his hips back and forth, fucking her mouth. Thin, snotty fluid coated her tongue and the insides of her cheeks. He increased his speed, and before long, his balls were slapping her chin and his tip was punching her uvula. She gagged and wretched, and sudden pain detonated in the center of her skull as Lincoln punched the side of her head. "Don''t you dare fucking puke on me, Lucy."
Tears oozed from her eyes and she said, "I won't," but it came out muffled.
Threading his fingers through her hair and pulling, Lincoln pounded her mouth. She tried to sip gulps of air around his massive shaft but it wasn't enough and she eventually started to feel lightheaded. Panic gripped her and her heart throbbed in terror. She tried to pull back but Lincoln held her in place, refusing to let her up for air. She battered his legs with frenzied punches, and he responded by bringing his fist down on the top of her head. Dazzling white light burst across her field of vision and fire enveloped her brain. Her lungs burst for air and she began to thrash in mindless fear. Still, Lincoln wouldn't stop. If anything, he fucked her mouth harder.
Now her face was beginning to tingle and numbness was creeping in. Her chest heaved and her body twitched. In the moments before she blacked out, terror consumed her and she believed in her heart and soul that she was going to die.
Just before she lost consciousness, thick, salty sperm filled Lucy's mouth and spilled down the back of her throat. She choked, gagged, and passed out. She fell back, limp, and Lincoln shot the rest of his load on her tits. When it was over, he crouched down and checked Lucy's pulse, relieved when he found it beating strong and relatively regular. Her legs kicked in her sleep, reminding him of a dog dreaming of chasing rabbits, and a fond smile touched his lips. He brushed his thumb along the ridge of Lucy's cheek bone, and proceeded to spray her off with the shower head.
By now, the water was starting to get cold, so he cut it off, got out, and toweled off. Steam filled the air and a thick layer of condensation covered the mirror. He wrapped the towel around his waist and walked over to the sink, whistling a light and happy tune. He rubbed a circle in the mirror, shot a finger gun at his reflection, and opened the medicine cabinet. He took out a tube of toothpaste, squirted some onto his tooth brush, and scrubbed his teeth until they were sparkly clean. Next, he gargled with mouthwash, spat into the basin, and then flossed, making sure to get between every tooth. He smiled at himself once more and nodded. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, they say, and Lincoln must have been the reincarnation of Jesus Christ Himself, because he loved being clean, especially in his mouth. He had seen pictures of nasty, rotting teeth before and they made him sick.
Speaking of mouth, he wondered what Lucy's mouth was looking like right about now. He dumped the second biggest load of his life into, so there was no way it wasn't sticky with his essence. He'd have to make her brush her teeth when she woke up. Otherwise, he wouldn't kiss her.
In his room, he dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and an orange polo shirt. He sat on the bed, pulled on a pair of socks, and stepped into his tennis shoes. They were gray and rotting like a corpse. In the Loud family, money was tight and new clothes and shoes were hard to come by. In fact, Mom and Dad were due to take him and the others clothes shopping. He was starting to outgrow his pants; if he didn't get longer ones, he'd wind up looking like he was wearing high waters.
Dressed, he went into the bathroom. Lucy was still passed out in the tub, her body curled into a fetal position. Her naked back rose and fell and ripples raced through her body. Walking over, he scooped her up like a broom carrying his bride across the threshold into wedded bliss and took her to his room. He laid her out on his bed and paused to admire her helpless form. He sat on the edge of the bed and slowly ran his hand up one of her legs, his breathing getting heavier and more animalistic. It was as smooth as it looked, like silk. He reached her middle and skimmed his fingers over her pussy lips. They were an angry red and looked chapped, like regular lips in the bitter cold. His dick stirred, but after those two epic nuts, it couldn't get hard again.
Oh well, there were other things he wanted to do.
Getting up, he went out into the hall and methodically rummaged through his sisters' drawers, looking for stimulating articles of clothing for Lucy to wear. He found a pair of pink and white panties in Lola's room, fishnet stockings in Lori's (wear these for Bobby?), and a white bra in Leni's closet. He took a pair of heels from his mother's room and returned to the room. Lucy was awake now, sitting against the headboard with her legs drawn to her chest and a vacant expression on her face.
Well, a more vacant expression than usual.
Lincoln tossed the clothes and shoes at her. "Put this on," he ordered.
She didn't move.
Balling his hand into a fist, he lunged at her, and she squealed in terror. "Put them on," he said again. His voice came in a low, menacing growl.
Knowing better than to disobey him, Lucy quickly dressed with shaking hands. She started with the stockings and Lincoln stopped her. "Do it slow," he said. He spun his desk chair to face her, sat down, and crossed his legs. Face burning with shame, Lucy pulled the stockings on slowly, then the heels. Lincoln watched her with a hungry look in his eyes. He directed her to stand up and turn her back to him. She did, bent, and started to pull on the panties. Her butt cheeks spread and her center was bared to her brother's lustful gaze. He reached out and poked her butt hole, and she jumped forward with a squeal. Getting to his feet, Lincoln grabbed her arm, twisted it behind her back, and bent her over the bed. She had an idea what was coming, but when she felt the sting of his finger penetrating her butt hole, she gasped anyway. Lincoln pushed his finger all the way in and then pulled back until it was almost out and slammed it forward again. "You like things in your ass, Luce?" he asked.
Lucy swallowed. She was in pain and utterly humiliated; she could barely form a coherent thought, much less an intelligible reply.
"Do you?" he asked again. He curled his finger against her inner wall and his nail tore her flesh, making her groan.
"Yes," she hitched, too afraid to say anything else.
"Call me Master," Lincoln said. He twisted her arm and pain shot into her shoulder.
"master!" she screamed.
Lincoln smiled. "Good girl." He took his finger out of her and licked it. He sat down, crossed his legs again, and nodded to her. "Put on the bra."
Getting a hold of herself, Lucy pulled the bra on, reached behind her back, and clasped it. The cups didn't fit her breasts and the straps slipped down her shoulders. The panties, likewise, were too small, and her lips pinched the fabric between them. She stood before Lincoln with her knees pressed together and her arms crossed coyly over her chest. Her cheeks blushed deep red and her lips were a little squiggle. Lincoln couldn't help smiling to himself. "Are you embarrassed?" he asked.
Lucy hesitated, then nodded.
"Why?" Lincoln asked. "I already fucked you twice. Why be ashamed of being in your underwear?"
The dark delight in his voice pierced Lucy's soul like an icy dagger. She had never heard such coldness before. Earlier, she thought that the Lincoln she had known was dead and gone, and that was true. She didn't know who this Lincoln was and she didn't want to.
Getting up, Lincoln walked over, cupped her face in his hands, and forced her to look up at him. "I asked you a question, you little slut. Why are you embarrassed?"
Lucy sniffed deeply and blinked back tears. "I-I don't know."
A dark shadow crossed Lincoln's face and Lucy's heart sank into her stomach. Oh, God, what did she do wrong? Was he going to hit her again? Was he going to put something in her butt? Her little body still ached from his violent rape and the thought of him doing it again tied her stomach into knots. "What did I just tell you to call me?" He laid his hand on her shoulder...such a simple gesture, but one that chilled her to the bone.
She swallowed hard. "M-Master."
"From now on, you don't get to feel embarrassed. You don't get to feel anything. You're an object and objects don't have emotions."
What could she say to that?
As if reading her mind, Lincoln said, "Objects also don't speak unless they're spoken to. If I hear your voice without asking to hear it, I'm going to choke you out." As he spoke, he got closer and closer until the tip of his nose. Lucy wanted to shrink back but didn't dare, so she didn't. There was a crazed look in his eyes, and she knew that he wasn't bluffing. If she displeased him, he would make good on his threat. "Am I being clear?"
Lucy nodded.
Cocking his head to one side, Lincoln cupped his ear.
"Yes, master," she said.
Lincoln smiled. "Good." He turned her around and slapped her ass so hard it made her almost nonexistent breasts jiggle. "Now go fix us some dinner."
Lowering her head, Lucy rushed out before he could do anything else to her. "Shut the door behind you," he called. "I'm not cooling the entire neighborhood."
"Yes, master," Lucy said. The words tasted bitter on her lips. She pulled the door closed, looked over her shoulder, and turned away. She lost the will to go on and sat on the top step. She hugged herself, leaned forward, and fought against a fresh crop of tears. She let out a shivery breath and rocked gently back and forth. Her insides ached, her nether regions chaffed with every step, and her mind kept replaying the rape over and over again. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he being so mean? There was a part of her that could forgive the rape, but not the horrible things he had said to her, or the blows he had inflicted upon her. She would never willingly have sex with her own brother but if he needed it that badly...she could forgive and forget. She couldn't forgive and forget the way he had made her feel.
Sitting there in her sisters' panties, her other sister's stockings, her other sister's bra, and her mother's high heels, which were way too big and clunked when she walked, Lucy broke down crying.
When the storm had passed, Lucy sniffled, blotted her still leaking eyes with the heel of her palm, and got up. She carefully navigated her way down the stairs, wobbling and falling because of the shoes, and crossed through the living room into the kitchen. She wasn't a very good cook and the only things she knew how to make were microwavable. She nuked them a couple Hot Pockets and set the table. She was just taking the plate out of the microwave when Lincoln came up behind her, grabbed her ass, and rested his chin on her shoulder. "What's for dinner, dog?"
"Hot Pockets," Lucy said, then remembered to add, "master."
He took a deep whiff of her hair. "Smells good," he said.
While she finished setting up, Lincoln sat at the head of the table like a king and paged through a newspaper that he had found somewhere. Lucy sat his plate in front of him and sat at the opposite end of the table, consciously getting as far away from him as possible. At length, he put the paper away with a flourish, picked up his fork, and cut the Hot Pocket in half. While he ate, Lucy stared down at her own plate, the smell of cheese and pepperoni turning her stomach. "Not bad," Lincoln said, "but you could use some improvement. When the others get back, you're taking lessons from Dad. Then when you're good enough, you can cook for me every night."
Oh yay.
^ Sarcasm.
Lucy forced herself to choke down half of the Hot Pocket, and stopped when she felt like she was going to throw up. When she could stand no more, she got up, carried her plate into the kitchen, and dumped it in the trash. She put it in the sink and went into the dining room.
Thankfully, Lincoln was gone.
Her eyes went to the plate and fork he left behind.
Should she take care of them?
Something told her she had better, otherwise Lincoln might get mad and beat her up.
She put the plate into the sink and then sat on the couch, wanting to be alone, No sooner had her butt touched the cushion than Lincoln was calling her. She went to find out what he wanted, hating life, and then passed the rest of her evening sitting quietly next to him in bed while he read comic books. He only let her up to pee, and even then, he timed her and would call out if she took longer than three minutes. One time, she was sitting on the toilet with her knees pressed together and wincing in pain because her lower half throbbed, and Lincoln came in to watch her. "Piss," he ordered, "piss for me, you fucking filithy creatutre."
Blushing with shame, Lucy lowered her head and strained. Her pee hurt coming out but the sound of it splashing into the bowl excited Lincoln. Or maybe he was excited by degrading her. Yeah, it was probably that last one.
The day ended with Lucy lying on her side in Lincoln's bed, facing the wall, and Lincoln holding her from behind like an overgrown goth teddy bear. He quickly sank into sleep, and Lucy listened to the gentle, even sound of his breathing. For the first time all day, she felt free...and safe. But not too safe. If she moved even an inch, he would wake up and hurt her. She just knew it.
Before long, she began to cry again, and mercifully, she dropped into a thin and fitful sleep shortly thereafter, her cheeks wet with tears.
In his sleep, Lincoln smiled.
Lincoln came slowly and peacefully awake the next morning, bobbing gently to the surface and coming online like a computer booting up. The synapses in his brain began to fire, and the images that had lulled him turned into hazy and disjointed thoughts. A warm bar of sunshine lay across him and a cool breeze washed over him from the open window. He was pleasantly warm and so cozy that he could lay there forever. He was also hard with morning wood and reflexively slid his hips and back forth, his dick poking something soft and yielding. Every time he mashed against it, a thrill went up his spine, so he did it harder. His hand stroked up and down something warm and silky and his brow pinched in confusion. That didn't feel like a wad of blanket. He creaked one eye open and beheld something black and glossy. He blinked and half pushed up on one elbow. When he realized what it was, he relaxed. Lucy lay on her side, facing the wall. She wore a white T-shirt and a pair of pink Leni panties that fit loosely across her butt. Her knees were drawn to her chest and her back rose and fell with her breathing. Lincoln's heartbeat sped up and he laid his hand on her curved hip. She was soft, warm, and simply touching her made him ache between his legs.
Stretching out beside her, he nestled his dick against her butt, stroked her flank, and kissed her shoulder. Her smell intoxicated his senses and the warm weight of her butt pressing against his erection made his breathing shallow. He slipped his hand under her shirt, grazed his fingertips over her stomach, and cupped her breast. He plucked her nipple with his middle finger and kissed her throat. With his other hand, he pulled her panties down over her butt and then yanked down his underwear. His dick sprang out and prodded between her butt cheeks. She stirred and muttered in her sleep. There was a miserable quality to her voice, as though she knew, even unconscious, what he was doing to her. He buried his nose in her warm hair and took a deep breath, her scent driving him dangerously close to animalism. He ran his hand down her stomach and slid it into her panties. He pried her thighs apart and grabbed her by the pussy, pulling her closer to him. His dick sank between her cheeks and poked just above her butt hole. She finally came awake and tried to move, but Lincoln held her still. Once her head was clear enough that she realized what was going on, the air left her lungs in a wheeze and she didn't dare try moving. Lincoln wedged his middle finger between her lower lips and found her pool of moisture. He thrusted it in and bit her neck and shoulder hard enough to leave marks. Unseen by him, Lucy sucked her lips into her mouth and blinked back tears. Her face screwed up in misery and her nostrils flared open and closed, open and closed.
Lincoln let her go, rolled her onto her stomach, and straddled her. She kept her legs entirely straight and her face in the pillow. She wouldn't resist but she hoped that by clamping her legs closed, she could dissuade him from doing what he was about to do.
Deep down, she knew that was hopeless.
Lincoln pushed her shirt up to her shoulders and ran his hands over her naked back. He wedged his dick between her cheeks like a hotdog in a bun and slowly moved his hips back and forth. He wedged his knees between her thighs, pushed them apart, and aimed his tip at her butt hole. He heard somewhere that he you need to use lots of lube when you fuck a girl in the butt or it will hurt her. Lincoln did not hate Lucy - he loved her - but since yesterday afternoon, he had learned something about himself: Inflicting pain and establishing control and dominance over a girl turned him on. He didn't think he could ever make sweet and gentle love to someone; he needed to degrade and humiliate her, he needed to order her around and make her do things she didn't want to do, he needed to hurt her. For that reason, Lincoln didn't care if he hurt Lucy. He pushed his dick against Lucy's butthole and it squeezed to get in. A sharp gasp escaped her throat and her entire body tensed. "Stop," she hissed lowly, "please stop."
"Shut up" Lincoln grunted. He was having trouble getting in; her pussy was tight but her hot little asshole was impossible. He flattened his hands on her shoulders and pushed her into the bed, pinning her in place. He thrusted back and forth, trying to loosen her with his head, then, with a cry of triumph, he slammed into her. Lucy let out a blood-curdling scream and her body clamped down on Lincoln's so tightly that he, too, cried out. He pulled back and slid forward again, his nails digging into her flesh and creating bloody half moons.
He didn't know what he expected, but her butt was far, far different from her pussy. The skin was dry and springy, and her walls did not expand and contract the way her pussy walls did. They molded to him and held on for dear life. Lucy bit down on the pillow and grabbed handfuls of the sheet in a white-knuckled death grip. The pain was so exquisite, so intense, that she couldn't speak, couldn't cry, couldn't even think. If she could compare it to anything, it would be to the way Vlad the Impaler got his name. He would have people tied up and impaled through the anus, then let them slowly slide down the pole, letting gravity do his dirty work. She could feel herself ripping and tearing with every thrust, and she had the terrible sensation of breaking, as though her pelvis were splitting down the middle. It would have been bad if Lincoln were gentle with her, but he wasn't; he slammed deep, hard, and fast, and leaden pain swelled in Lucy's head.
Lincoln brushed his fingertips up and down the sides of her throat and then grabbed her hips. "Lift up," he commanded.
She couldn't.
"Lift up," he said again. His fist crashed into her side and her body shrank around him, making the pain that much worse. Lucy got to her hands and knees and Lincoln started to drill her. He held her hips and pounded back and forth, back and forth. Lucy tossed her head back and let out a throat-ripping wail full of misery and hopelessness, and Lincoln raked his nails down her back, leaving long, red trails behind.
Without warning, his dick expanded painfully in her guts, and moments later, scalding hot liquid injected into her, filling her body and sloshing in her behind. She sucked a sharp intake of breath and shuddered as Lincoln pulled out. His jizz spilled out of her butt and trickled down the backs of her thighs. Her arms quivered and she started to cry in earnest. She flopped to the bed, buried her face into the pillow, and sobbed unashamedly. Lincoln swung his legs over the side of the bed, slapped his hands on either side of him, and caught his breath. He turned to Lucy with a look of mild concern. "Hey...how about some breakfast."
"I'm not hungry," she sobbed.
"Yeah? Well, I am, so get your ass downstairs and make me something."
Lucy did as she was told, walking naked and bow legged down the stairs, pausing often to rest. She made him waffles and he got mad that they were burned, so he threw them on the ground and made her eat them from the floor like a dog.
Lincoln raped her three more times that day, but thankfully none of those was anally. The first time, he grabbed her by the throat and fucked her on the couch, finishing on her face; the second, he made her sit on his lap at the dining room table and bounce on his cock until he filled her with sperm, and the third, he forced her to go down on him, and then did her doggystyle in Mom and Dad's bed. By the time night fell, she was achy, sore, and exhausted. He made her sleep with him again, and as he fell asleep, he flicked and pinched her clit from behind.
The next day, the cycle repeated itself. By the time Mom and Dad came back four days later, she was a broken, staring husk. She went out of her way to avoid Lincoln, and spent entire days in her secret dark place, wishing she could tell someone what was happening. Every night, Lincoln made her come to him. Sometimes he jammed her feet behind her ears and savagely fucked her, and others he was content with a blowjob. He was true to his word and made her take cooking lessons from Dad. She also did all of his chores, fixed his plate at dinner, and gave him her allowance every week.
All too often, Lincoln would drag her from hiding and make her follow him around. He started to help her with her homework only so he could lay his hand on her leg and finger her pussy. They went on frequent "walks" together because Lincoln liked having sex outdoors. One time, he pushed her against a tree, held her leg up, and entered her from behind. Every thrust forced her against the bark and she came home with some of it embedded in her skin. Every Monday morning, he would make her suck him in his room, then he'd make her spit his cum into her sock and wear it all day. Once or twice, they met up at school and had sex. One time, he took her to a creepy hallway off the gym, had her kneel against the wall, and fucked her mouth as he peered through a hole into the girl's locker room. A few times, he forced her to dress up like Cristina and brutally fuicked her ass as "punishment" for changing classes to get away from him. She hated those encounters the worst because she would always be bow legged afterwards and have to make excuses for why she was walking funny.
Everyone around them - their sisters ad their parents - thought it was so sweet that she and Lincoln were suddenly so close. "That week alone did wonders for their relationship," Mom told Dad.
Only if they knew.
Lucy hated being her brother's sex toy and cried herself to sleep every night that Lincoln wasn't with her.
She was dead, she decided, and this…
This was hell.
.