Lynn the testosterone vampire:

It was late when Lincoln Loud's room door creaked open, probably a little past midnight. That meant nothing to the inhabitants of the room though, one safely ensconced in slumber and the other eagerly approaching her prey with intent to feast.

The snowy haired boy was happily sleeping, his eyes moving until their lids in pursuit of dreams that were suddenly interrupted as a hand clamped down over his mouth. The blue orbs snapped open and he struggled, but it was too late as stronger limbs snaked around his and held him still!

Teeth sunk into his neck- the struggle over before it even began.

The sucking, the pulsing of blood under the skin, the salty taste of his skin overtaken by the flavour of spit. It was a regular part of their nights now, a habit that nourished her strength and guided her to greater heights.

Much like Lynn's other rituals.

Satisfied Lynn broke the suction seal with a pop of her lips and started unwinding herself from her brother's form. "Ahh, thanks Lincoln, I really needed a refill after todays game-"

"Oww!" He whinged and shoved her off the bed, holding a hand to his sore neck. "Why!? Why do you keep doing this- you're not even sucking any blood out!"

"Blood? Don't be dumb," Lynn picked herself up and grinned. "I'm getting that sweet, sweet testosterone."

Lincoln stared at the moonlight-clad form of his sister with disbelief. "My testos- Lynn that's actually stupid!"

"Why?" Lynn tilted her head. "It's not like you're using it."

"Because-" Lincoln used his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I don't know where to- you know what? Go to bed. I'll tell you in the morning, I just want to sleep- without you in my bed!"

"Sure thing bruv-"

"And don't sneak back in!"

"Dang- sure, whatever," Lynn waltzed back out, leaving the frazzled boy annoyed and wary of sucky sisters. Lynn herself however was on the top of the world, her strength and stamina surely restored by the vital infusion of her brother's unused liquid of strength- surely unmissed by its wasteful owner!

Practically cackling to herself she practically skipped into her room and quickly got to rest for maximum recovery and gains!

Next door however another sibling remained well awake, documenting the events she had seen through the hijacked cameras that the silly sister had left through the house.

"Log #12," Lisa documented. "Lynn has proceeded as expected, presenting impressive improvement in overall athletic performance, even after taking into account our familial unit's tendency to remarkable strength in females. The corresponding rise correlates with the first date of issuing the 'mouthpiece."

Said mouthpiece now said in a glass next to Lynn's drawer, a blunted set of fangs supposedly made to allow the user to drain certain hormones from other people while somehow preventing any trace of excessive hormones from being found in a 'doping' test.

"Additionally while Lincoln has shown signs of frustration, he has shown no overt indication of weakness or feminine traits. As Lynn has now presented the misconception that she is draining his testosterone on a nightly basis, we shall soon see if the placebo effect will work on both subjects as originally speculated."

"Gaa goo?"

"Yes younger Sibling Unit we're seeing if Lincoln will act like a girl."

"Gooo."

"Of course we're gluing a moustache to Lynn! What kind of hack do you take me for!?"

"Ga ga goo."

"I cannot dispute the facts, but I contend the results are valid justification."

"Da ga."

"If the rest of our antics left him unharmed then surely this will not result in a need for therapy."

"Bab ga."

"You say that, but Mindblasting will always remain an option."


Upon my adoption of Moving In an online associate immediately advocated that I turn it into a Tattling version of the story with the family bonding over using Lincoln like a 'toy'. Needless to say I declined the silly request, but they then went on to propose that I make Tattling versions of every major fanfic on the site, as well as proposing a version of No Such Luck be resolved in the same manner.

That one I took up :P

Dick Such Luck:

"Ahh!" Lynn tripped and fell. "Get lost Stincoln!"

"I'm not bad luck!" Protested the boy in tattered pyjamas. "You just didn't tie your shoe laces!"

"Shut up you luckless loser!" Lynn attempted get up again, only to trip and take Lincoln with her. The sudden 'oof' from the boy and the oddly soft yet firm flesh under her hand drew her gaze to see her right hand firmly cupping the boys unmentionables.

"EWW!" She threw herself upwards, half squishing Lincoln's junk once more to his displeasure. Quickly seeking a distraction, she spotted her soccer ball and promptly booted it with all the force she could manage.

It honestly wasn't intended to do anything but let off steam, the goals were set up in the opposite direction and she was expecting to lose the ball to Mr Grouse's yard. But much to her surprise the ball bounced off the fence, hit a tree and neatly landed in the goals.

"Whoa, now see that's some real luck! How come-" she looked down to the boy, now curled up where his sister had bruised his babymaker. "No way... hey Stinclon!"

"Whaaat!?" The boy whinged. "I don't want to put the Squirrel Suit on again!"

"Not that, lemme touch your junk!"

"..."

"..."

"... Why?"


Lincoln quickly found himself in a new bind. While he was allowed in the house again it was only under the condition that he not wear jeans or anything more than his undies, and while the other family members were sceptical at first they quickly came to believe in the lucky properties of his prepubescent berries.

He of course protested the sheer madness of the situation, and the endless Bad Touching that followed. But honestly it wasn't too bad once he got used to being fondled for luck.

Then came the questions of exactly which parts were luckiest of all? Lynn thought that it was probably the stalk of the beast, while Lisa instead posited that the 'juice' from the berries would be the more 'logical' source of the luck.

Their experiments were deeply scarring for the boy, and only got worse as the various applications for the 'juice' went from a casual application like a cream ("Gross but I'll try anything once" declared the Rocker) to ingestion ("This is nowhere near the nastiest thing I've drunk," asserted the Jock).

Sadly their Confirmation Biased science only gave rise to more questions about where else said 'juice' could be used for maximum effect; and as the shadows gathered under his door the 'lucky rabbit' of the house desperately wished he had just stuck with the Squirrel Suit...