Lana Loud paced back and forth across hers and Lola's shared bedroom, her phone clutched in one hand and her stomach rocking like a ball of trash in a dirty gray swell. Warm, slimy sweat trickled down the back of her neck and her teeth ground lightly together, making the veins on the side of her throat pop out like fat worms wiggling beneath her skin. She reached the door, spun around, and marched to her bed, barely realizing that she was muttering to herself under her breath. Lola reclined on her bed and paged through the latest issue of Pageant Monthly looking to see if they did a write-up on her embarrassing incident at last week's competition. Fortunately, they went with the official story: A gas leak led to the evacuation of the building and postponement of the show. She stopped and watched Lana over the top of the page, her brow slightly furrowing. Lana's face was red and clenched like she had to take a fat poop, and her eyes were two bubbling pools of desperation.
It was easy to feel sorry for Lana...until you realized she had been doing this every single day for almost a week. She would pace, make puppy dog faces, sigh, throw herself on the bed, and say -
"He's never gonna text."
Lola took a deep, calming breath and tented the magazine in her lap. Lana was lying on her bed, arms and legs spread wide like she was going to make a snow angel. She stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated display of sadness that made her look far younger than her fifteen years and Lola couldn't decide if she wanted to hug her twin...or throttle the life out of her. "He's not texting because he's grounded, Lana," Lola said with strained patience. "I've told you this."
The he in question was Anthony Simmons, the tall, dark drink of chocolate coca she and Lana met at the pageant last week. He was virile and manly and had the softest brown eyes Lola had ever seen. She saw them in her sleep every night and always woke with a warm twitter in her heart.
And her loins.
Weeks ago (or maybe it was a month or more), Lola fell victim to The Loud Gene, which turned every Loud who suffered it into a farting, burping sex maniac. That was a huge oversimplification, but Lola didn't understand the scientific ends and outs of it. She only knew that one day she started feeling really turned on and that her manners took kind of a dive. Her body was reacting to a chemical release related to puberty, Lana explained...something about having too much of one thing or another...so she would fart, burp, grow hair in weird places, get pimples, and physically develop. The latter one was the worst as it came with intense growing pains. Lola's legs and arms both hurt and sometimes it felt like her bones would rip through her skin as they got too big for her body. Oddly, she wasn't much taller, but she had filled out in the chest, hips, and butt. Her butt had grown noticeably over the past month or so and there was lots for Anthony to grip onto as he plowed her from behind.
That thought made her squirm and bite her bottom lip. She had been thinking of Anthony a lot lately. Like a lot. And by thinking of him, she meant having graphically detailed sexual fantasies that made her so hot and wet that she had to hump one of her stuffed animals for relief. She imagined him fucking her in every position she knew, and when she ran out of those, she looked up positions that she didn't know and imagined him fucking her in those too. One of her favorite fantasies involved her riding him in a hot bubble bath while he played with her tits. She didn't know if having sex in a bath tub was practoical or not - something told her that it was not - but she liked thinking about it.
She liked thinking about sex with Anthony period. Since the Loud Gene activated itself deep in her body, she had been a raunchy and sex-obsessed little ho with ultra sensitive bits. Normal girls' didn't get touched on just from their underwear touching their lower lips, but to Lola, it was simply divine. If she walked quickly enough, she could make herself cum, something she had done on multiple occasions. You'd see her shuffling down the hall with a red face and rolling eyes and wonder Gee, why is Lola breathing funny? And why is she moaning? And...oh, God, is she peeing on herself? She didn't know if the average girl squirted, but she sure did., Mainly when she edged herself. Edging, for those out of the loop, is when you play with yourself until you almost get there, then stopping, cooling down, and starting again later on. When you finally reached the mountaintop, your orgasms were ten times more powerful than usual.
Lola loved taking her sweet time to tease, explore, and stimulate her body. Lana, on the other hand, was a quick'n'rough kinda girl. Lola would lovingly brush her fingers over her clit and play with her nipples while Lana would basically beat the shit out of her pussy. If and when Anothny finally did them, he'd spend half the day with Lola and then five bloody minutes with Lana. It would make more sense for Lana to go first since he'd be a while with Lola, but Lola didn't care; she would the first of them to expoireence Anthony's sex, not Lana. In fact, if Lola had her way, she would be the only one of them to experience Anthony's sex.
Though civil, unspoken, and largely peaceful, a state of cold war existed between Lana and Lola. They both liked Anthony and they both wanted to have their faces pushed into a pillow and rutted by him. That wasn't going to happen unless she rigged a safe to fall on Lana's head, which she wasn't willing or prepared to do, so she'd just have to deal with a little competition. Which wasn't really that bad, Lola lived to compete. In her own way, she was just as bad as Lynn, only whereas Lynn fought for supremacy on the football field, Lola fought for it on the catwalk. And now, in Anthony's heart and mind. Lana was the first one to make her feelings known by French kissing him literally minutes after meeting him like the grody-ass slut she was, but Lola had staked her claim by doing the same thing. She got her tongue all up in his mouth and she often licked her lips at the memory of how his lips tasted.
Anyway, because he was a kind and caring man's man, Anthony took the blame for the gas attack that nearly killed everyone at the pageant and because of it, his parents grounded him. They had his number and links to all of his social media accounts but he hadn't responded to any of their texts and DMs. Lola tried a few times before giving up, but Lana kept slamming her head against the metaphorical wall.
"I know he's grounded," Lana said now. "But still. Maybe he can, like, get through or something. I don't know."
Lola sat her magazine aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She splayed her hands on either side of her and bent slightly forward at the waist as if to impart some great secret on her twin that she didn't want anyone else to hear. "He's not going to text until he texts, okay? Stop carrying your phone around like a teddy bear and do your vocabulary words."
Crossing her arms, Lana pouted.
"Don't give me that look," Lola said in her best imitation of her mother that she could muster.
It was mid-August and school was starting up in a couple weeks. Lola was looking forward to going back to school since she was pretty and popular and everyone loved her. Lana, on the other hand, was not. Lana was a whiz at math and science, two subjects that were closely related to mechanics and all that other slave labor Lana loved doing, but she was terrible at English and history. She thought that you spelled "minute" as "minot '' and thought that the Nazis were a society for the blind. She thought Royal Woods was a state and that everyone in Japan looked like anime characters. Uh, hello, Lana, they're, like, yellow. She thought a homophone was something called each other on and had the reading comprehension of a 17th century peasant who thought the common cold was caused by ghosts in her blood. That is until she picked up a technical manual, then she was Ernest freaking Hemingway.
Lana wasn't stupid, she just didn't care about anything outside of math and science. "I use math and science every day," she told Lola once.
When Lola pointed out that she used English every day as well, Lana shot her a cold look and grumbled something about Lola needing to mind her own business.
Lana's problem was that if she didn't like something, she had a hard time processing it. It was like a mental block or something. She could try to learn it all she wanted but her brain's defenses were up to protect itself from absorbing useless information. Lisa said it was a subconscious process and that Lana couldn't control it. A lot of people are like that, Lisa explained. Lola could kind of understand. She didn't like building things and the few times Lana had drafted her into helping with some dumb project, the instructions that Lana gave went in one ear and out the other.
Because of Lola's proficiency at English and history (as evidenced by the fact that she knew what the word proficiency meant), Lola agreed to tutor Lana on both subjects. The natural choice was Lisa, but Lisa was too busy working on a special project to which she was devoting every free minute she had. Lola didn't know what it was and didn't ask: Lisa was basically a mad scientist at this point who had already successfully risen the dead, converted clean water to cyanide ("for use in warfare muahahahaha"), and created a hybrid of a puppy, a monkey, and a human baby, so Lola left her alone.
Lola discovered that she had a surprising aptitude for teaching and really enjoyed holding power and authority over people. Lana had become something of a project for her the way that hideous puppy-monkey-baby had for Lisa. Lola was an artist and Lana was the canvas on which she would show the world that she was not only beauty but brains as well. She spent hours every week carefully crafting her lesson plans to maximize the chances of Lana succeeding. She wrote reading paragraphs about monster truck accidents, grizzly workplace accidents, and mechanical engineering to catch Lana's interest, for she was sure that the best way to teach someone something is to get them invested.
Every week, she gave Lana a list of vocabulary words. This week they were "immediately" "necessary" and "schizophrenia," all of which were words that Lola herself had struggled with in the past. When she gave them to Lana the other day on a sheet of paper, Lana tried to sound them out. "What's this S word?"
Lola told her.
"What's it mean?"
"It means crazy. Now hurry up and memorize them, they'll be on your test this Friday and will count toward your grade."
Anyway, where was she? Oh, right, Lana wasn't dumb but she always wasn't a genus like her more beautiful twin, but she wasn't dumb.
She was, however, emotional. She had gone through the last week wavering between feral animal lust and weepy episodes where she wore baggy sweat clothes and ate ice cream directly out of the carton. She suffered similar emotional extremes during her own bout with the Loud Gene but had gotten over it.
Then she met Anthony and it kicked back into high gear. Lola was still learning about this secret piece of her family's biology and didn't know enough to say anything confidently, but she had assumed that after a while it stopped and didn't start again. At all. Period. At first, the influx of hormones sent your body and mind on a roller coaster but soon everything evened out and you were okay again. Seeing as how Lana had sunken right back down to a state of relative ferocity, that was pretty much out the window.
Boo.
And Lola was just starting to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
"I don't wanna do my vocabulary words," Lana said sullenly.
"You have to do them," Lola said. "Otherwise you'll misspell all the words in your texts to Anthony and look like a retard."
Lana sighed and sighed up. "Fine," she said, ":but I'm not gonna like it."
"You don't have to like it," Lola shot back.'
Ripping open her nightstand drawer, Lana pulled out a piece of paper folded into fourths and opened it. She settled back against the headboard of her bed, drew her knees to her chest, and began to read.
Lola watched her for a moment to make sure she stayed on task long enough to get invested, then picked up her magazine again. Holding it casually up to block what she was doing, she pulled her phone out and checked it, hoping against hope for a text from Anthony.
As she suspected, nothing.
Lola felt a little twist of disappointment and sat the phone in her lap. Unlike Lana, she wasn't going to go to pieces over him not getting in touch with her, but she really wished he would. She understood that he was grounded and not allowed phone or internet access but even so, she wanted to talk to him. She wasn't sure when his punishment would be over so she had to rely on him to text her first, unless she wanted to be annoying and send him a bunch of messages every day like Lana was doing. Which she didn't. Let Lana look clingy and desperate; that would only make Lola look better by comparison. Boys, or so she had read, don't like clingy, they like their space and freedom and will break up with a girl if she tries to impose herself too much. They want someone who isn't a complete psycho, and nothing says psycho like bombarding a boy with messages when he knows you know he can't reply.
That was Lola's policy at this stage: Let Lana knock herself out of the running. Lola would stop short of feeding her bad advice on how to deal with boys (boys love it when you stand outside their window with a knife and threaten to kill them if they leave you), but she wouldn't tell her how absolutely awful texting so much probably made her look. If it came down to it in the future, she would give Lana bad advice, but for now that was beneath her. Like she said earlier, this was a civil war, so Lola would be civil.
For now.
Plus, she had an idea, one that would give her a leg up in the competition. It wasn't cheating, oh no, it was just smart. If Lana wasn't bogged down learning to spell, she would have thought of it too.
Shooting Lana a sidelong glance (she was still reading her spelling words, lips moving but producing no sound), Lola picked up her phone. She typed SIMMONS ROYAL WOODS 48071 into Google, and clicked SEARCH. The first result was the online Yellow Pages for Royal Woods. There were five people named Simmons in town. She plugged their names into Facebook one by one and searched their photos. The very last profile she checked belonged to a stylish black woman. Lola went to the tab marked RELATIONSHIPS and scrolled down.
Ha.
Anthony Simmons was tagged as her son.
Lola went back to the Yellow Pages and found the woman's address.
1209 Franklin Avenue.
Just a few houses down.
How stupidly serendipitous.
Lola glanced and Lana and Lana met her eyes. "What?" Lana asked.
"Nothing," Lola said. She closed her phone and dropped it between her legs. She threw her head back and let out a sigh. "I'm bored. When you're done, we should fill up the pool."
"Can't," Lana grumbled, "I gotta finish the freezer."
The freezer was a massive chest-style freezer that had been in the garage since time out of mind. It held extra food that Mom and Dad didn't have room for inside. Last week, it broke down and all of the food inside thawed out. Lana had been tinkering with it ever since, Dad promising to pay her by the hour. On Lola's advice, she was stretching the out longer than it needed to be.
Lola was hoping she'd say that.
"Fine," Lola said and got up. "I'm going to do something fun. Sitting here is making my brain melt."
Before she could leave, Lisa appeared in the doorway.
Twelve years old and already in high school, Lisa was the runt of the Loud family, short and small with a lisp and poor eyesight. She had recently gotten thicker glasses and given herself braces to straighten her crooked teeth, which only served to increase her lisp. Her face was smooth and clear of blemishes. In fact, it was too smooth, and shone in the light like a greased bowling ball. A few months back she developed an apocalyptic case of acne that ruined picture day and she vowed to create an ointment that would kill pimples, zits, and blackheads once and for all. Lola didn't know what was in that ointment as it was top secret and not for sale like some of Lisa's other inventions, but it left Lisa's face looking rubbery in the right light.
It was not the right light now and she looked just as normal as anyone else. "I require Lana's assistance in my lab," she lisped.
"With what?" Lana asked eagerly. Anything to get away from her vocabulary words
"I need to insert a car engine into a machine I have built but my hoist is no longer functional." On the word functional, she sprayed Lola's face with spit, and Lola dabbed herself with a white hankie.
Lana balled her vocabulary words up and tossed them over her shoulder, an excited grin on her face. She got up and rushed past Lola, knocking both her and Lisa aside. Lisa stumbled and almost fell, but kept her balance by grabbing onto the doorframe and digging her nails into the wood. Flecks of ancient white paint that probably contained lead showered the floor. "Lana has been in a state of high incorrigibility for some time now. I wonder about its root cause."
"There's a boy," Lola said.
The metal-mouthed genius adjusted her glasses. "I should have suspected as much. She seems a touch more...feral than normal."
"I think the boy reactivated her Loud Gene," Lola said.
Lisa rolled her eyes and they began to walk toward her room together. "I have been working to understand and eventually bypass the Loud Gene with no success. It's quite frustrating."
"Are you starting to feel it?" Lola asked.
The genius hesitated. "No," she said.
Something told Lola she was lying.
Lisa and Lily's room was at the end of the hall on the right. One half boasted stuffed animals and fairy princess decor, and the other beakers, computers, lab equipment, and posters of comic book characters. Lisa was a huge comic book nerd. Even worse than Lincoln. She went to every convention and knew every fact there was to know.
A big box shaped metal contraption stood in the middle of the floor, its silvery sides gleaming in the cold fluorescent lighting. A series of colored buttons, knobs, levers, and readouts graced one side and slots and portholes another. A bent and broken pulley sat to one side, its arm pointing slightly down like a head bowed in shame. A massive engine block sat at its feet, all full of pistons and exhaust pipes and whatever else car engines are full of. Lana knelt beside it with a wide-eyed expression and gently stroked its steely flank like petting a pudgy cat. "Wow," she marveled, "a 1977 Dodge 440 Wedge Engine."
Holding up one finger, "ackshually", Lisa opened her mouth to speak but Lana cut her off. "Wait, no, '78. Duh." Lana hugged it and if life were a cartoon, little pink hearts would have floated up into the air like motes of dust.
Lisa grabbed a wooden ladder from her closet, carried it over to the machine, and sat it up. "There is no top,' Lisa said of her weighty contraption, "so it can be set directly inside. There is a place for it. You'll see. Be careful and for the love of all that is sane and rational in the world, do not drop it. It took me over six months to brainstorm, design, and build this thing. A catastrophic accident at this stage is unacceptable, simply unacceptable."
"Yeah, yeah," Lana said and waved her hand. She rolled up her sleeves, stood over the engine block, and grabbed it in a big bear hug. She lifted it from the ground as though it were made of styrofoam. She hefted it up, went to the ladder, and climbed with sure-footed grace.
Even before Lana's Loud Gene kicked into overdrive, she was wickedly strong. After it took effect, however, she was superhuman. Dad didn't even need a jack to change flats on the van anymore; he just had Lana hold the whole thing up for him.
Lana reached the top and the ladder began to wobble. Lisa winced in expectation of months of work being destroyed and Lola slapped her hand to her pounding chest. Her first instinct was to run over and steady the ladder, but if Lana dropped that engine block, it would crush her flat as Lincoln's ass.
Rocking back and forth, Lana got her balance and carefully sat the engine back into the machine. Lisa let out a pent up breath and Lola swiped the back of her hand across her forehead with a weary, "Whew."
Lana came down the ladder and flexed her muscles. "How do you like these guns?"
"You need to work on your head muscles," Lola said.
A frown touched Lana's lips and she let out a deep sigh. "Alright." She brushed past Lola and Lisa and dragged herself back to her vocabulary words with her head down and her shoulders slumped.
Lisa went over to her machine, crossed arms, and looked up at it with the abiding pride of a mother. "It's beautiful," she said. Her voice trembled with emotion and she blotted her tearful eyes.
Walking over and standing next to her, Lola arched her brow. "Are you crying?"
"No," Lisa half said, half sobbed, "I'm just...so happy right now."
"You're crying."
In a flash, Lisa's mood changed. She spun on her heels and shot Lola daggers. Fire blazed in her normally apathetic eyes and her teeth seemed somehow sharper, longer, almost like fangs. Lola fell back with a fearful cry, and Lisa jabbed her finger at her. "I SAID I'M NOT CRYING!"
Lola threw her hands up in front of her face and cringed. "Alright, alright, you're not crying."
But you are PMSing, she added to herself. Lola did kind of the same thing when -
It hit both of them simultaneously. Lisa clamped her hand over her own mouth and her eyes widened with something approaching horror. ":Oh, no," she said, "it's starting." She wheeled around and rushed to her lab set up, where she hurriedly started mixing chemicals. "I thought I had time. Oh, God, I'm only twelve, it shouldn't be starting yet. God, is it just me or are my breasts tender? I THINK I FELT A GAS BUBBLE! ALL IS LOST!" She slumped over the table and began to weep desolately.
Yep, being an overly emotional drama queen was definitely a sign of The Loud Gene acting up.
RIP Lisa.
"Maybe it won't start in full yet," Lola offered and rubbed a comforting circle between her little sister's shoulder blades. "It could take a while."
Lisa sniffled. "Maybe," she allowed. "But I can't count on that. I'm going to continue working on a way to bypass it entirely. My last attempt failed." She looked over her shoulder at her sizable rump. It was big, tight, and firm; it looked like it belonged to a girl much, much older than twelve, and even though Lola thought men who got hard off little girls were creepy and nasty, she would never blame one for checking out Lisa's ass. It was almost as nice as Lola and Lana's; they had gone through the full transformation, so theirs were obviously bigger and sexier.
"You do that," Lola said in her most sympathetic tone, "I'm going to...go somewhere."
Lisa nodded. "Alright. I'll keep you abreast of my progress."
Lola smiled at her.
Leaving Lisa to it, Lola tip-toed past hers and Lana's room and scurried down the stairs as silently as she could. In the living room, Lynn was wrestling with Lucy. Lucy lay bloodied and twitching on the floor as Lynn climbed onto the arm of the couch. The jock hooked her thumbs and flexed, her thumbs touching her shoulders three times. "Lynn. Loud. Jr." She did a backwards moonsault and landed flat on Lucy, knocking a grunt from the little goth's throat. Lola winced. Lynn was home from college on summer vacation and had been running rampant on her siblings. Lola did her best to ignore and get away from her. Luckily, though, she had been focusing most of her energy on Lucy.
Another bullet dodged.
Outside, a dry, skin-scouring breeze blew over Lola, and sweat instantly sprang to her forehead. She was clad in a short pink and white striped dress with spaghetti straps and white flip flops, but she was still hot within seconds of leaving the house, and part of her wanted to turn around and forget all about her little plan. The promise of seeing Anthony spurred her on. She followed the sidewalk to his house, which was only three doors down from her own. It was a two story Dutch colonial with a gambrel roof and a balcony above the entrance. A narrow driveway ran between the house and a well manicured hedge separating Anthony's property from the neighbor's. There was no car present so Lola assumed that Anthony's mom was at work. She cut across the neatly trimmed lawn and went up the flagstone walk to the front door. A placard reading BLESS THIS HOUSE hung from a nail and a welcome mat...well, welcomed her. Frosted glass sidelights trimmed the door and she pressed her face to the glass in an attempt to see inside. She could just make out vague shapes but nothing more.
She considered ringing the doorbell but chickened out. She thought his mom was at work but she wasn't entirely sure. If she rang the bell and Mrs. Simmons answered, she'd be turned away because Anthony was supposed to be grounded, and being grounded meant no TV, cell phones, or blowjobs.
Sigh.
For a moment, she stood there in indecision, then she went down the stairs again and went around the side of the house. In the driveway, she looked over her shoulder, half expecting Anthony's mom to pull in and catch her, then, when she was satisfied that she wasn't being observed, she hurried into the backyard.
A wooden stockade fence enclosed the grounds and a brick patio spread away from the rear French doors. A lattice with a thick bush to one side stood against the wall, spreading vines growing through its slats, and patio furniture huddled nearby, as if in anticipation of a garden party. Lola went to the French doors and peered in.
The kitchen was empty.
She tried the handle but it was locked. She shook the door but it wouldn't budge. She heaved a sigh and started to leave, but stopped when she heard a melodic, high pitched sound like the tweet of a bird. She looked around, then up. A window at the top of the lattice was half open, the screen rising and falling in the breeze like a breathing chest.
Lola cocked her head to the side and listened, even cupping her ear. The sound came again, and she recognized it for what it was.
Whistling.
She listened more intently. It's hard to judge someone by a whistle, since whistles all pretty much sound the same, but she was instantly certain that the sweet, angelic music was coming from the lips of an angel - an angel named Anthony.
Going over to the lattice, she held her hand up to her forehead to cut out the glare of the sun and tried to see him, but she couldn't. She drew a deep breath to call out, but stopped herself at the last second. She was sure that it was him...but what if it wasn't? What if it was his dad or...did he have a brother? She tried to remember him mentioning having siblings but she couldn't recall anything. To be fair, they didn't exactly have the time to sit down and carry on a long, involved conversation. There was a chance that the person in that room above wasn't Anthony at all.
There was only one way to find out.
Looking around, she grabbed onto the lattice and started to climb it like a ladder. At fifteen, she was a petite 100 pounds, which, she learned, wasn't all that petite when you were scurrying up a thin and fragile patchwork of lath. The lattice shook and threatened to snap beneath her weight, and a few times her footing slipped. After a particularly nasty incident where she broke one French tipped toenail, she kicked her flip flops off and went on barefoot. An unseen nail caught her arm and scratched her flesh, and a thorny tendril growing up the wall tore at her dress. She made the mistake of looking down, and even though she wasn't all that high up, a spell of vertigo overcame her and she suddenly felt like she was going to throw up. Her heart slammed hard against her breast and her arm muscles strained and quivered. She missed her footing again and almost fell, but clung to the wooden grid like a monkey to a tree.
She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching her. She could see down into the neighbor's backyard. A dog sat by the base of a big oak tree with its head tilted to one side and stared up at her with open curiosity. As far as she could tell, the dog was her only observer. Good. If any people saw her, they might think she was some kind of nut job and call the police. Peeking into people's windows was wrong, but it was different when she did it. She wasn't some gross, sweaty pervert, she was a pretty and popular beauty queen.
Pausing, Lola wiped the sweat from her forehead and licked her lips at the thought of eating Anthony's asshole.
Come to mama.
Biting her bottom lip in both lust and determination, she reached up, slipped her hand into one of the diamond shaped holes, and pulled herself a few inches closer to her destination.
At long last, she reached the window sill. She grabbed it and pulled on it to make sure it wasn't rotted or something. When she found it stable and strong, she used it to pull herself up. She poked her head over it and pressed her face to the screen.
Beyond was a large bathroom with a shower to one side and a wide sink top straight ahead. Anthony stood at the mirror whistling and patting himself down with baby powder.
He was completely naked.
His shoulder blades flexed beneath his warm brown skin, and his powerful muscles begged her to come and touch them. Her eyes darted to his tight butt and she clamped her lower lip between her teeth. Her heart pounded so loudly that it rang through her head like summer thunder and her pussy clenched like an angry fist. She felt her panties dampen but she didn't care; she was so close that she could smell the musk of his body and nothing mattered but getting in there and tearing him apart. She tried to raise the screen but it was locked. She fiddled with the tabs and shook the screen back and forth, but it wouldn't budge. Giving up, she flopped her head against the wire mesh in defeat and took a deep breath. She had to get in there before he knew she was here, otherwise it would be awkward. Oh, hi, Lola, what are you doing? Spying on me? Ooookay, not creepy at all. If she was inside, it would be different: She'd be able to run her hands over his body, get down on her knees, and submit to him fucking her mouth.
She made one last attempt to get the screen to raise, but it held fast.
In the bathroom, Anthony turned around and Lola froze. Luckily for her, his eyes were closed and he didn't see her; he just went on painting his armpit with Old Spice and whistling that happy tune of his. His chest was chiseled, his stomach ripped, and his arms toned. She flicked her eyes to his dick and her mouth dropped open in a perfect O. She had seen plenty of dicks online but none this close. That alone made it special and yummy, but it was also big and thick, just like she liked them. His balls were huge and smooth, looking like they belonged on a prized breeding stud. She couldn't properly judge its circumference, but when he put it in her, it would definitely spread her apart like a wishbone, and the thought of being so filled with cock that her eyes watered made Lola want to cum in her panties. Her mouth was watering now and her breathing was heavy. She felt flushed from the tops of her toes to the crown of her forehead and if she didn't hurry up and blow her girl load, she was going to explode.
Before leaving, she took out her phone and went to the camera. She pointed it at Anthony's dick and hovered her thumb over the button. A voice deep in the back of her mind told her that this was a bad idea. Taking a picture of his junk without his permission was a huge invasion of privacy. If someone did that to her, she would be outraged and increased, Moreover, she would feel sickened and violated.
Then again, she was pretty and popular, so it was okay. A girl can get away with anything, especially things that boys would be nailed to a cross and paraded through the streets for. It was, like, an unspoken social rule or something. Look at her, she was the epitome of sexy. Any boy would be flattered to have her so interested in their penis that she wanted to take a picture of it to masturbate to. Plus, they already kissed so was it really that big a deal? Was it really?
Nope, she decided, it wasn't.
At that moment, two things happened simultaneously. Just as she pressed the button, the lattice crumbled beneath her like wet tissue paper and she dropped like a blonde headed stone. For a disoriented moment she was weightless and falling, then she landed in the rose bush with a thud. A branch tangled in her hair and when she tried to pull away, it tugged at her locks, bringing tears to her eyes.
All through this, she held onto her phone like a superstitious woman to a magic talisman. She struggled to free herself but stopped when Anthony poked his head out the window. "Who's down there?" he called.
Lola held her breath.
Did he see her?
"Who's there?" he asked again. "You didn't see my balls, did you?"
Oh, she saw them alright. She saw every wrinkly inch of them dangling there like fruit in a -
"It'd be pretty fucked up if you were watching me bathe. I might even call the cops." He sounded panicked.
Lola's heart sank.
B-But I'm pretty.
"Alright, I'm coming down there."
NO!
Lola curled up in a ball and wracked her brain for what to do, then an idea struck her. Cupping one hand to her mouth, she swallowed and let out a small, shaky, "Meow."
Above, Anthony leaned even farther out of the window. She could just make out his buff chest through the interlaced branches crisscrossing her line of vision. "Pooky, is that you?"
"Meow."
Anthony laughed. "You scared me, Pooky. I thought some weirdo was peeping at me through the window and getting off on my nutsack. Kind of paranoid, I guess, but you can never tell; this world is full of psychopaths."
Okay, she was not a psychopath, She was a horny teenage girl who wanted to have her first sexuial experience and was currently flooded with hormones so strong they made Lana look like her bones were made of glass. Maybe climbing up the side of someone's house and taking pictures of their naked body wasn't the most polite thing in the world to do, but she had a very good excuse and should be given a pass owing to how pretty, popular, and horny she was. After all, she wouldn't even be in this situation if it wasn't for that stupid Loud Gene. All of this started over that and that alone. She was a normal girl before it started acting up, now the constantly smoldering thing between her legs governed her every thought and dictated her every move. She couldn't do anything she wanted to, she was a slave to her own lust and it was awful. She'd almost rather lose her sex drive entirely than to continue on like this.
"Well, you have a good day, Pooky, I'm gonna go play a video game," Anthony called. The window shut with a thud and when Lola was sure that he was gone, she thrashed and pulled at the branches to get free. She was half out and struck when she gritted her teeth and forced herself the rest of the way. All of a sudden, she became aware of a cool breeze. She looked down at herself and her eyes widened in horror. The thorns had ripped her dress entirely away and now she was butt naked, goosebumps raking her skin and her nipples stiff in the wind. Her heart rocketed into her throat and she crossed her arms. Realizing her most sensitive and vulnerable area was exposed, she covered it with one hand and her breasts with the opposite arm. Holding her phone, she hunched over and darted away, burning with shame. She had to go out to the street before cutting through the next door neighbor's yard. A boy above twelve stopped his bike and gawked at her. "Whoa! Check it out!"
In the backyard, a fat man grilling hotdogs licked his chops and nodded to her. "How youse doin'?" he asked in a thick New York accent.
Near tears, Lola stumbled away and finally made it to her own backyard. She went in through the rear door and went down the basement stairs before anyone could see her. She knew she had a hamper of dirty clothes down here; she could put something on real quick and go upstairs when she was decent.
Ha, she was home free.
At the bottom of the stairs, she rounded the corner and came face to face with Lana. Lana's eyes widened and she couldn't help but look Lola up and down. "Why are you naked?" Lana asked.
Lola drew a blank. "Uh…"
"And why are you covered in cuts? And why are there leaves and twigs in your hair? You were with Anthony, weren't you?"
"No! I mean...I was at his house to talk to him but I had to hide in a rose bush and it ripped my clothes off."
Lana's eyes narrowed. "Likely story, bitch."
"It's true, I swear."
"I'm telling Mom you were running around outside naked."
Lola's heart dropped. "But I wasn't! I swear!"
Lana brushed past her. "Wait!"
The grease monkey stopped and crossed her arms. "What?"
Sighing, Lola opened her phone and said, "I took a pic of his dick through the window. If you don't tell Mom, I'll share it with you."
Lana's eyes slightly widened. "Let me see it."
"Promise?"
"Yes, I promise, now make with the porn."
Lola handed Lana the phone and Lana's face lit up. "Oh, my."
"Right?" Lola asked. "Look how big and hot it is."
For a moment Lana stared down at the screen, then she ran up the stairs. "I'm gonna jill off real quick.,"
"No!" Lola yelled. "Not with my phone! Let me send it -"
But Lana was already gone.
Lola sighed.
Pulling on a dirty dress, she went upstairs to eat something.
Seeing a hot dick and busting your ass on a rosebush really works up an appetite.
As she ate, she imagined she was eating Anthoiny's cock.
And that made her meal so much better.
Two days later, Royal County schools kicked off the year with a pointless half day that Lola literally couldn't understand. Why not just make it a full day? Better yet, why not just give us that day off and have us start the following day? Whatever, she guessed it didn't matter; it wasn't like many things the school board did made sense anyway.
Lola was excited because she would get to see Anthony. Lana somehow managed to be even more excited. The night before, she lay awake in bed for a long time, trembling and twitching and grinning up at the ceiling like a lunatic. "Seven more hours until I get to see my boo," she said.
You mean my boo, but okay.
"Six more hours."
"Five more hours."
Finally, Lola conked out. Maybe it was a dream or a delusion, but she was sure that she woke up at one point to hear Lana saying, "Two more hours."
When the alarm went off at six, Lola leapt out of bed and raced to the bathroom, elbowing Lisa out of the way. She showered, paying special attention to her pussy (she didn't want it to stink in case Anthoiny's hands wound up down there later on). She brushed, gargled with mouthwash, and flossed. She smiled at herself in the mirror, and her teeth were sparkly white. She put on deodorant, sprayed her naked body with perfume, and wrapped the towel around her body. In her room, she brushed her damp hair, applied fresh pink nailpolish to her toes and fingers, and dressed in a tight, low cut pink top and a skirt. She put on a bra but she didn't bother with panties; she wanted Anthony to have easy access.
To her mild surprise, Lana spent just as long in the bathroom as she had. When she emerged in a puff of sweet smelling steam, she was so clean that she practically squealed with every step. Her overalls were neat and free of creases and wrinkles and her hair was silky and with bounce. If it weren't for the hillbilly coveralls and red cap, Lola could almost swear that she was looking into a mirror.
Lola was going to put on makeup anyway, but now she was definitely going to, that way she would have an advantage over Lana. She put on shiny pink lip gloss and a touch of eyeliner, then shadowed her eyelids pink. She added just a touch of rouge to give her cheeks a lively shade of red and checked her reflection.
Perfect.
She stepped into a pair of white sandals, grabbed her backpack, and went downstairs. Lucy and Lincoln sat at the table stuffing their fat faces with sausage patties drenched in maple syrup and Lola's stomach rumbled. She really wanted that breakfast but she didn't want a repeat of the pageant.
She and Lana went outside and walked up the street to the bus stop. "He's not here," Lana said worriedly. "What if his mom won't let him go to school?"
"That'a dumb, Lana," Lola said, "she wouldn't do that."
They stopped and waited. A few minutes later, Lola spotted him coming and her heart rocketed into her throat. He wore a pair of jeans and a checkered work shirt that stretched tight across his bulging chest. He wasn't a super soldier but he had definition from all the manual labor he did. His heavy Timberland work boots - caked with mud from honest work and not immaculately clean like other boys' - clunked on the pavement and his face glowed in the light of the morning sun. Lola's heart went pitter-patter and her knees turned to jello. Lana saw him and sucked a sharp intake of breath. "He's even more beautiful than before," she marveled.
Anthony walked up and gave them a friendly wave. "Hey, ladies."
Lana and Lola both giggled.
"Hi, Anthony," Lola said dreamily.
"Hey, Anthony," Lana said. She swatted his arm, then, face blushing, she squeezed his muscles. "You're looking hunky today."
He grinned. "Thanks, you guys look nice too. Ready for school?"
"Oh, I'm so ready," Lola said, twisting slightly from side to side.
"Me too," Lana said. "I even showered."
Anthony chuckled bemusedly. "So did I."
Just then, Lisa walked up, her backpack slung over her shoulder. Her brown hair was up in a ponytail and her bangs tickled her forehead, having come loose. She wore a green sweater vest and a brown skirt that fluttered around her knees. "Thanks to Lincoln and his over the top shenanigans - namely his bully of a girlfriend Ronnie Anne - I'm running late," she grumbled. The sun caught the metal in her mouth and shot a death ray into Lola's eyes. She winced and held up her hand to block it out. "Watch where you're pointing those things."
"I am not in the mood for -'' Lisa's eyes fell on Anthony and she seized up. Her eyes widened to three times their normal size and her mouth fell open with an audible clack. Lola recognized that expression instantly. Great, now Lisa was into him too? Just lovely.
"Hi," Anthony said, "I'm Anthony."
Lisa sputtered then shook her head. Lola expected her to go gaga for him but instead she sneered. "Hello." She looked quickly away and held her nose slightly up like she was better than him but Lola could tell that it was an act.
"It's nice to meet you," Anthony said, "do you know Lola and Lana?"
Lola cut in. "She's our sister."
Anthony smiled. "Wow, so your whole family are angels."
Lisa sighed deeply. "That's nice but I'm not a side of beef and I would appreciate not being reduced to my appearance."
"Hey," Anthony said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything -"
"Of course you didn't," Lisa snapped.
Luckily for all involved, the bus pulled up and threw open its doors. Anthony went in first and the Loud sisters followed behind him like cartoon characters being pulled along by a tantalizing scent. He sat in the back and Lana and Lola fought over who got to sit with him, Lana sat on his left and Lola on his right. They each grabbed one of his arms and stared up at him. "How was your punishment?" Lola asked.
"My mom had me practicing my lockpicking skills for five hours a day but that's another story for another time."
Lisa knelt on the seat in front of them and looked over the back. "Is it true that you accepted the blame for Lola's flatulence problem?"
Lola blushed with embarrassment. "Shut up, Lise." She turned back to Anthony and smiled. "It was really sweet of you to do that, by the way." She kicked her sandal off and slipped her bare toes underneath the cuff of his pants.
Lana splayed her hand on his chest and kicked one leg possessively over his lap. She didn't wear socks with her boots so her feet were sweaty. She was panting like a dog in heat, her tongue lolling out. She thrusted her hips back and forth, lightly humping him. "You're the total package."
Lana and Lola threw their heads back and gargled drool like hyenas. "Package," they said.
Anthony laughed nervously. "You're too kind."
"Woof-wolf," Lana said.
Lola grinned slyly. "Meow."
Anthony started to speak, then blinked. "Wait a minute, I know that meow."
Before he could say anything, Lisa asked, "Do you enjoy science? Most people like you don't."
Anthony blinked. "Like...black people?"
"No, you boob, pretty boys."
"Oh. Well, actually, yeah, I do like science."
Lisa hummed.
"Leave him alone, Lise," Lana said. "He doesn't want to talk to you."
"Go pound a nail, Bob the Builder," Lisa said, "the adults are talking."
No sooner had she said, the bus pulled up to the high school. They went to the cafeteria, where each got a tray of breakfast, and sat at a table by the wall. "I love a good, nutritious breakfast," Anthony said.
"So do I," Lola said.
"I like it better," Lana cut in.
Lola narrowed her eyes. "No you don't. You eat junk for breakfast."
"You both possess poor eating habits," Lisa said. "I, on the other hand, only eat the most nutritious of food."
The twins both shot her a dirty look. Lana turned to Anthony and smiled again. "What classes do you have? I'm really looking forward to shop."
Anthony leaned to one side and slipped his schedule out of his pocket. "Let's see," he said and unfolded it. Lola yanked it out of his hand and Lana went around the table to read over her shoulder. "Ha, Lana said, "I'm in his English class."
Lola snorted. "Good. He can watch you fail." She scanned the paper and smiled. "I'm in his history class."
Getting up, Lisa came over, adjusted her glasses, and read. "I'm in his math and science class. Looks like I'll be able to bail him out when he struggles.." She stood up and thrust her nose smugly in the air. Lana shoved her and Lola stuck out her foot, tripping her. "Sit down, Lise," Lana said.
"Yeah, klutz," Lola put in.
Lisa stood up and brushed herself off. She looked like she wanted to snap at them but she looked at Anthony and held her tongue. She adjusted her glasses and sat back down. While Lana and Lola turned their attention back to him, Lisa began to eat, as she was suddenly quite hungry. It occurred to her that an increased appetite was a sign of The Loud Gene, but she was too focused on her food to really care.
She was half way done with her bacon when a voice spoke behind her. "Hey, four eyes, long time no see."
A rush of disgust went through Lisa and she shuddered a little. She would know that voice anywhere. Victoria, AKA Vicky, like that dreadful babysitter in that Butch Hartmann cartoon. Lisa turned in her seat and looked up at the bully. Standing just an inch or two taller than Lisa, Vicky was slim with dirty blonde hair done up in an upturned ponytail. Her nose, too, was slightly upturned, and her eyebrows bushy and prominent. Her teeth were pearly white and straight, though chipped here and there from many past fistfights.
Vicky wore a pair of jeans and a solid black T-shirt turned inside out. If you looked closely, you could see the outline of a design on the chest. Whatever it was, it was clear that it was inappropriate for school and that the principal made her turn it around. Her white Addadis tennis shoes were actually gray with age and the elements and looked like they were going to fall apart if she took one wrong step.
She had been bullying Lisa since she, Vicky, moved here in the second grade. She picked on other kids and routinely fought with older girls and even a few boys in their grade, but Lisa was her favorite target. She would shoot spitballs at the back of Lisa's head during history, give her wet willies in math, throw balls at her face in gym hoping to break her glasses, and regularly steal food from her tray during lunch. She called Lisa Four Eyes, Dr. Frankenstein, Science Bitch, and Albert Whinestien because Lisa once complained about Americans' open disdain for that which is different. In the fifth grade, she chased Lisa home on her bike (Vicky was on her bike, Lisa was on foot) and whipped her bottom with a yardstick she had taken from the science room. When Lisa informed the proper administrators that Vicky had stolen school property, Vick responded by stealing Lisa's glasses, throwing them on the ground as hard as she could, and jumping up and down on them while chanting, "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you." Lisa was so incensed that she threw a punch which barely grazed Vicky's nose. Vicky hit her in the side of her head with her elbow and shoved her into an empty locker.
Lisa didn't know why Vicky disliked her so. She assumed it was her short stature and abject physical weakness. Lisa had always been among the smallest in her grade and made an easy target. None of the other children bothered her, but any one of them could, and there wasn't much Lisa could do about it. Another possible reason was pure anti-intellectualism. Vicky, like most Americans, felt intimidated by people who were smarter than them, and in Vicky's case, almost everyone was smarter than her. If Lisa had to compare Vicky to someone intellectually, she would pick Leni, only Leni made up for her lack of mental prowess with a generally sweet and sunny disposition. Vicky, on the other hand, had a personality that was just as dull and lackluster as she was. Every time Lisa raised her hand in class and went into a long, highly technical response, making sure to educate her benighted teachers and classmates in the process, Vicky would boo her and throw paper balls at her. That was clearly the work of a girl who hated the intelligentsia.
If she didn't make Lisa's life so miserable, Lisa would feel sorry for her.
A small part of Lisa thought - nay, hoped - that her older sisters would step in and quote unquote have her back, but they were both presently engaged with Anthony and did not seem to care that their younger sibling was being accosted by a vicious and bloodthirsty troglodyte.
Sigh.
Was she really that surprised?
Turning in her seat, Lisa faced her bully.
Vicky's lips curled up in an evil grin and she crossed her arms over her virtually nonexistent breasts. "Well, what do we have here? Nice metal, braceface."
Lisa's braces were new; she had gotten them over the summer.
"Greetings, Victoria," Lisa said in a long-suffering sigh.
Vicky's face darkened. "Don't call me that, steel tooth. Only my grandmother can call me that."
Calling Vicky by her whole name was one of the few resources Lisa had in dealing with her. She took great pleasure in how "butthurt" Vicky got when Lisa simply called her by her given name. That would be like Lisa being offended when someone called her "Lisa." It was her name, what else was one supposed to call her? Puddintane? "How is your grandmother?" Lisa asked.
Vicky smiled. "Oh, she's doing great. She's really enjoying her new retirement home. She plays bingo, like, every night and cleans hou - wait a minute! I'm supposed to be messing with you!"
An awkward pause followed.
"Anyway," Vicky said, "I hope you're looking forward to a long year, cuz I sure am." She leaned over Lisa, grabbed her ponytail, and yanked. All of a sudden, pressure swelled in Lisa's stomach. She opened her mouth to let out a cry and a loud, noxious belch came out instead, blowing right into Vicky's face. Vicky gagged and fell back a step, waving her hand in front of her face. "God, what did you eat?"
Lisa blushed.
Noxious belches were a sure sign of the Loud Gene.
Still gagging, Vicky walked away and Lisa turned back around.
She was not, in fact, looking forward to this year.
Her eyes went to Anthony and she bit her bottom lip.
Well...maybe a little.
In history class, Lola sat next to Anthony and made goo-goo eyes at him. In English, Lana stared at him and licked her chops like a hungry dog. In both math and science, Lisa looked at him with love dazed eyes when he wasn't looking and Lana and Lola weren't around At one point, as Lana panted in his ear and made thinly-veiled comments about how much she liked his body, "Nice ass," she said at one point and smacked his butt. "Shake it, papi."
It hit Anthony that all three Loud girls were into him hard. They all looked at him like he was a slab of meat and they wanted to gobble him up. He didn't really know how to feel about that at first since no other girl had ever acted like that, even if she was infatuated with him, but the more the Loud girls drooled and fought over him, the more he liked it. In English class, the teacher went on and on about how great English literature was, and in between stomach gurgles and what may or may not have been tiny farts, Lana giggled at him for no reason.
"Watch this," he said and nudged her. He hid behind an open book and coughed. "English literature sucks."
The teacher, who paced endlessly around the room on a trembling coffee high, stopped dead in her tracks and shot a dirty look at the class. "Who said that?" she snapped.
Lana covered her mouth and laughed and Anthony grinned proudly. "I'm kind of a class clown," he told her, Lola, and Lisa at lunch. They hung on his every word and batted their eyelashes at him. A sense of pride came over him and he felt like the badass.
"You're also funny," Lana said.
As soon as the words were out of Lana's mouth, a cruel laugh rose up behind her. She turned around and Lindsey Sweetwater crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. Skippy was with her. "You should know about funny," Lindsey said, "since that's how you look."
Lana rolled her eyes. Lindsey was to her what Vicky was to Lisa. Lindsey sniffed the air and crinkled her pert nose. "What's that smell? Did you even shower this morning? Oh, wait, you never shower."
"Yes I do," Lana said.
Lola observed, part of her wanting to help her sister and another part wanting to see Lana get btfo.
"Uh, no you don't. Remember that time your tuna pussy smelled up the whole gym in seventh grade?"
Lana's face turned beet red. "It was hot that day," she said defensively.
"What about the day before that? And the day before that? Face it, Lana, you're dirty and gross and disgusting and a boy as cute as Anthony Simmons would never want anything to do with you."
Skippy's face flushed and he shot Anthony a hateful glare. She never calls me cute, it seemed to say.
Tears filled Lana's eyes.
"Actually," Anthony cut in, "Lana is great. She has the biggest heart I've ever seen. And I wouldn't be talking about body odor if I were you. Your breath is so bad it's doing twenty-five to life."
The entire classroom exploded in raccus laughter. Lindsey's face turned bright red and she balled her hands into fists. She looked like she was going to explode. Literally. Skippy, seeing the girl he pined for (but who didn't care about him and only used him to carry her books) stepped forward. "Hey, man, watch your mouth."
Anthony stood up, and Lola's pussy tingled at the prospect of watching her man kick someone's ass. "Come make me," Anthony said.
Lindsey stormed off, and after a moment, Skippy caved and followed, shooting Anthony a dirty look over his shoulder. When they were gone, he sat next to Lana and put his hand on her back. "You okay?" he asked.
She smiled brightly. "I'm okay. Did you mean that stuff you said about me?"
Anthony returned her smile. "I sure did. You're awesome."
Jealousy filled Lola, but also warm fuzziness. It was sweet to watch...it's just too bad it was happening to Lana and not her.
In their next class, Lola sat behind him because the seat next to him was taken and studied the back of his head with love-struck eyes. She propped her chin in her upturned palm and drew a sigh. He was so hot.
Every so often, he would look over his shoulder and crack a joke or to say something, and after a while, it hit Lola: He was enjoying the attention she and Lana were giving him. On some level, even though he might not know it, he was attracted to having girls so into him that they barked and meowed.
Huh, guess the Loud Gene has some use after all.
Her pussy throbbed and she squeezed her legs together. You have a use too, Lola thought, and soon...you're gonna find out what it is.
She. Couldn't. Wait.