I wake up to the annoying sound of my morning alarm going off. I slam my fist on the top of it, silencing the infernal clock. Once my peace has once more been restored, I slip back towards peaceful unconsciousness.
"Get up, August!" I hear my mom shout from the doorway. "We both heard your alarm going off."
"Fine, Mom," I call back, pulling my body out of bed with a Herculean effort.
"Wake up Brianna, too," she says.
"Got it," I say. I drag myself out of bed and into a pair of slippers and pad my way into the next door bedroom. I slip inside and see through blurry vision that Brianna is bundled up in the middle of the bed.
I climb onto the bed and try to shake her shoulder. "Come on, Bree," I say. "You need to wake up. I am barely conscious as it is."
She just groans and snuggles deeper in her blanket burrito. She is completely wrapped as far as I can see. There are no openings that I can exploit to tickle her into waking up.
Even as I am thinking this, I am rapidly losing complex thought processes. "If you don't get up, I am going to fall asleep on top of you," I say. She doesn't react, so I am forced to follow through on my threat.
I slump down on top of her. I am lulled back into the land of dreams by the radiance of warmth generated by Brianna.
Cynthia Heart has finished setting up the table for breakfast when she noticed that August and Brianna were not down straits by this point.
"They can't get up on time for once?" She asks herself.
Her husband, Randall Heart, says from the table where he is reading the newspaper, "It is the first day of their senior year. Of course they don't have the willpower to get up. You just have to go up there and remind them that they actually have to go to school."
"They should already be old enough to do all of this on their own," she grumbles before heading upstairs to where the bedrooms are located.
She checks August's room, but sees that it is empty. She next looks at Brianna's room. She is simultaneously happy and annoyed at what she sees.
August and Brianna are cuddled up with each other inside of a blanket burrito. She doesn't know how it happened, but they look so cute together. From what she can see, they seem to be holding each other while they are snuggling. August's cheek rests against Brianna'a head while Brianna is nuzzling August's neck.
The look of pure contentment on their faces made it that much harder to ruin the moment. She hopes that they did this on purpose. However, it is probably that either August fell asleep before successfully waking Brianna up and she assimilated him or she snared him in a sleeping surprise attack while he was approaching. If she knows her son at all, it is the first.
"Chocolate chip pancakes," August's mom calls out. The reaction was immediate. Both of them automatically rolled out of the bed in opposite directions. It might have been more impressive if they stuck the landing. In reality, they fell off and slammed against the floor.
That didn't keep them down for long. They both bolted off of the floor and sped out of the bedroom with no other thought in their minds besides chocolate chip pancakes. She hears a series of thumping steps as they rush down the stairs.
"Don't forget to go to the bathroom first," she adds on.
There was a series of footsteps as one of them backtracks back upstairs to use the other bathroom because they were too slow for the main one.
Cynthia just couldn't help but be amused by the urgency created by the prompt of pancakes.
I slide into a chair at the kitchen table after the quickest bladder relief that I could physically perform. I look to see that there is only scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Brianna rushes into the seat next to me and has an expression in shock. Our eyes meet before looking back at the food and a shared reaction is put into words. "What the fuck?" we ask.
"Language," my dad says, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. "And what is the reason that you feel it necessary to curse in order to express yourselves?"
"Mom lies and said that she had made chocolate chip pancakes," I said.
"And we we come down, it is just the regular shi, stuff. The regular stuff," Brianna says. She almost cursed again, but my dad bent the edge of the paper down and gave her a look before she could finish. Brianna typically doesn't curse, but we are particularly agitated due to Mom's failure to follow through on her chocolatey promise.
"Did she actually tell you that she made chocolate chip pancakes?" he asks.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Did she say she made pancakes, or did you assume?"
"Why do you think we imagined her promise of chocolatey awesomeness?" Brianna asks.
"Yes," my dad says simply. "I should know because I could hear August's mom only say the words 'chocolate chip pancakes' and you two filled in the difference yourselves."
"Damnit," we both say, slumping night in our chairs.
My dad just gives us a look again before going back to his newspaper.
We grumble and eat our enjoyable everyday breakfast. The only downside is thinking the entire time that it should be pancakes.
After food, I take a quick shower and stop to admire myself in the mirror before getting dressed. My black hair is kept trimmed short. My habit of jogging and working out has led to my muscles really filling out. I am just the right combination of size and definition. My brown skin really makes my muscles stand out. It is at this point that I realize that I was admiring myself way more than any normal person should.
Once I get dressed in some jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt with a Superman logo on it, I relinquish the bathroom to Brianna.
About halfway into getting my stuff into my backpack, I get a text from Brianna.
Hey, can you grab the bundle of clothes sitting on my bed in my room? I forgot to bring it in here with me.
I head over to her and find the clothes right where she said that they would be. I pick them up and head to the bathroom. I knock on the door.
"Hey, Bree," I call out. "What do you want me to do?"
"Can you come in and give them to me?" she asks.
My brain had apparently not started up very quickly this morning. I entered the bathroom without thinking about her request. In my mind, it was fairly simple. Open door, walk in, hand clothes, walk out and close the door.
What I did not account for was the realization that Brianna was not properly clothed.
I enter the room and I am greeted to a sight that I felt I was not supposed to see. The only problem is that the hormones traveling through my teenage body were telling me this is one of the greatest decisions that I have ever made.
Brianna is standing in front of the shower covered only by a towel. I am not talking about a large towel that covers a lot. I am talking about a towel that covers only enough to be barely decent.
Her shoulder length blond hair hangs wetly, framing her face. Her fair skin is on display with her shoulders and arms bare. The towel swells around the curve of her bust, but it does not cover her entirely. I still have a clear view of the top part of her mouthwatering cleavage. While my eyes want to focus on that, my gaze keeps moving and I know the effort is worth it. The towel only covers up to a little past the tops of her thighs. This allows me to see her toned legs. I can see that all of the runs that she goes on with me have been worth it. Her appearance is enhanced by the residual water from her shower appearing as beads of moisture that slide their way across her skin, emphasizing the shape of her breasts and the appeal of her legs. In this moment, she is an image of sheer eroticism.
Upon coming to the realization that blood flow is about to reroute to my crotch, I quickly set the clothing on the counter and rush out of the bathroom.
Once I am back in my bedroom and I have closed the door, I slump against it and slide down into a sitting position on the floor. I cannot believe that I just saw that. What makes it even worse is that I am unbelievably hard right now. With what I just saw, I would have to be gay not to be.
I shouldn't be this attracted to her. This has happened to me a few times recently. I would see Bree and out of nowhere, I would start to notice that she is beautiful. I have been living with her for years. I should see her as a sister. And for no reason should you have sexual thoughts about someone who is practically a sister.
I run a shaking hand through my hair. Oh. My. God. I cannot go to school like this. I will just be thinking about how hot Bree is the entire time and having a perpetual stiffy. If I don't do something, someone will eventually notice the abnormality in my crotch.
Sadly, this means that I will have to solve this problem myself. My eyes fall on a box of tissues sitting on my desk. I can't believe that this is what I am reduced to.
Quick and simple. I am already ready. A few minutes and I should be fine. The only thing that I have to do is not think about Bree in the course of the process.
Yeah, I can't believe I messed that up.
I want to thank those that gave this story a chance. DC Comics is a subject that I have been interested in writing about for a while.
In case it was not obvious, the main character is supposed to be August Heart. To those unfamiliar with the comics, he is Godspeed, a speedster who serves as essentially the reformed bad guy speedster. Almost like the Red Hood of the Flash family.
I have always felt that he is a great character and I wanted to use him as my main character for this story. Bear with me as I do my best to flesh out the character.