Jamie Loud shoved her hands into her pockets, straightened her spine, and rocked back and forth on her heels. A tall girl with short brown hair and the shapeless, gangly build of a boy, she wore jeans and a jacket against the damp November chill. Her cheeks glowed with cold and her teeth chattered lightly together, producing a rat-a-tat-tat sound like machine gun fire. A gust of wet, needling wind swept over her and she steeled herself against a body-wide shiver. Across from her, Lupa, held a cheap plastic lighter to the tip of a cigarette and kept sparking it. The flame clicked and grated but didn't catch. Every time this happened, she muttered a toneless, "Damn," around the filter.
Lupa was Jamie's sister…or cousin…or something. It was hard to keep track of the Loud kids and their convoluted genealogy. It seemed like every time you turned around, there was a whole new person claiming to be a Loud. Some were blood, some were adopted, some were genuinely confused, which Jamie could understand; this shit confused her too sometimes. It was easy to forget who was who and how they fit into the big picture, unless of course you devoted all your free time to keeping track of them. The extended Loud family worked on sort of a "blink and you miss it" principle. If you weren't right there with a pen and a pad of paper when something happened, you got hopeless behind and had little to no hope of ever catching up again.
For her part, Jamie didn't really care who she was related to or how. Most of her cousins and siblings were nothing more than faces in the hall, regular old classmates and background characters no different from anyone else. She liked people who were cool. If you weren't cool, it didn't matter if you were her sister, go be not cool somewhere else. Lupa, as far as Jamie was concerned, was cool. Lupa had a sour and jaded attitude that Jamie couldn't help liking. You could say that Lupa was a poser or a tryhard or something, but those were just buzzwords that stupid people used to denigrate concepts they couldn't comprehend. Oh, this movie is dark. 3edgy5me.
'K.
Lupa was a very intelligent person and pointed out that studies showed intelligent people were more susceptible to depression because they had a truer and clearer understanding of the world. "I'm not depressed," Lupa told her once, "but I know bullshit when I see it."
To Lupa, people were bullshit. She told Jamie that she hated almost everyone, "People like me, and who like the same things as me, especially." Lupa said fanboys were the worst. Fanboys of anything. Music, movies, cartoons, reading. They were all essentially the same: A bunch of psychotic and obsessive nutjobs who spent more time worrying about what either people thought, liked, and wanted than they did enjoying the things they were ostensibly fans of.
Jamie wanted to agree, but to be honest, she couldn't. Jamie made no bones about not being smart. She wasn't a dumbass but she also wasn't some fucking nerd who sat there and thought about pointless shit the way Lupa did. She liked Lupa, but, it's like…turn your fucking brain off every once in a while.
Every really smart person Jamie had ever known was a miserable human being in one way or another. They were either the uptight fanboy types that Lupa hated or they were cynical and unhappy like Lupa herself. If that's what being smart was all about, fuck it, Jamie would rather be a retard.
Lupa sparked the lighter.
Again, it didn't catch.
"Damn," she said.
She tried again.
"Damn."
They were currently sheltering in the brick wall enclosure surrounding the dumpster behind the school. The sky was a flat shade of gray and the stench of garbage assaulted their nostrils. It was lunch time and only a few feet away, beyond a set of double doors, the rest of their classmates were chowing down on Lunch Lady Rhonda's special meatloaf surprise. The surprise was that it wasn't really meat at all, but rats or bugs or something. Whatever it was, it sucked, but by the time 12:45 rolled around, Jamie was so starved that she wolfed down all of her food and then licked the tray like it bought her dinner.
Which, she guessed, it kind of did.
Every afternoon, Lupa, who apparently didn't need as much food to get through the day as Jamie did, would sneak out to smoke cigarettes by the dumpster. Sometimes Jamie joined her mainly to be social and hang out. Jamie didn't want to become a three pack a day smoker like her mom so she didn't inhale; she just pulled the smoke into her mouth, rolled it over her tongue a little, and then blew it out. Lupa didn't notice but if she did, she'd probably pick on Jamie and call her weak or something.
"Damn," Lupa muttered.
Spark.
"Damn."
Spark.
"Damn."
Another gust of wind buffeted Jamie and a shiver streaked down her spine. "Come on, hurry up," she said, "I'm freezing my ass off here."
Spark.
"Damn."
She did it again, and this time the flame caught, low and blue and so feeble that just looking at it wrong would snuff it out. Lupa gaped at it in surprise, she touched her cigarette to it. She inhaled and puffed. Jamie went to light her own cig but the wind blew the flame out. Lupa handed her her own smoke and Jamie used it to light hers. She inhaled a little bit of the smoke and it irritated her lungs. It took everything she had to keep from launching into a coughing fit. She blew the smoke out and the wind ripped it away. "That took forever," Lupa said around the filter of her cigarette, "but it was totally worth it."
They hadn't had two puffs before the bell rang, signifying that lunch was over.
"Damn," Lupa said. She made no move to finish up and Jamie followed her lead. She'd get to class when she got there. If the teacher didn't like it, she could go piss herself. "We're gonna be late," Lupa stated.
"Oh well," Jamie said and took a puff.
Lupa inhaled. "Oh well," she echoed.
Like Jamie had said, Lupa was intelligent. She did well in all her subjects when she actually, you know, did the work, which she usually didn't. She used class for sleeping, woolgathering, drawings, and relaxing instead of learning. She must have paid some kind of attention, though, because she never failed a test and hadn't been held back yet despite never doing homework, extra credit work, or, really, anything else. Jamie thought being smart was a fucking curse, but she wished she could have a few extra brain cells herself. Just enough to do as well as Lupa did in school. Jamie struggled with everything except lunch…actually, she didn't even go to lunch half the time, so struggled with that too. She got straight Cs and Ds and, man, those Cs and Ds were hard fucking fought. She grinded just to be mediocre and still coudln't come out ahead. Wtf?
Not everyone was made for academic success, Jamie decided, and she was one of them. She didn't really excel at anything but she did okay at sports and video games. She didn't like sports enough to fuck herself with a baseball bat every day like her aunt Lynn probably did, and she didn't snort crushed up Playstation 10 discs like her dad, but she enjoyed both things enough. Honestly, one of her favorite things to do was lay up on the couch and veg out to some TV. Most of her cousins had a "thing" - some defining personality trait or characteristic that their entire identity seemed to center around - but not her, and she didn't particularly want one. She just wanted to eat and watch some tube.
Someone spoke from Jamie's right and she jumped in surprise. "You guys are gonna get in trouble."
Lemy, clad in a jean jacket and headband, spared a quick glance over his shoulder, then shook a cigarette from a crumpled pack. He put it into his mouth and lit it.
"Meh," Lupa said.
"One more tardy slip and you get a free three day vacation," Lemy said.
"Good," Lupa replied. "I'm getting really sick of this place anyway. Everyone here pisses me off."
"You're related to half of the people in there," Lemy pointed out.
Lupa took a drag. "I know."
"Staying home's worse," Lemy said, "you got an army of wild fucking toddlers running around. You know Lizy, she likes to bite." He snapped his teeth together and Jamie snorted a nasty laugh. She rarely went to 1216 Franklin Avenue, where her father lived with most of her assorted cousins, siblings, and whatever, but the last time she did, the little blonde in question bounded over to her on all fours like a dog and tried to rip Jamie's sock off with her teeth. She was pretending to be a puppy and was really, scarily committed to it. She didn't poop and pee on the floor, thank God, but Jamie wouldn't be surprised to hear that she did.
Little bitch was probably autistic.
"I guess," Lupa said. She took one last, long puff, the cherry of her cigarette glowing bright, then flung it to the pavement. She crushed it beneath the toe of one scuffed sneaker, shoved her hands into the oversized pockets of her dingy black hoodie, and drew a deep sigh. "I'll see you guys later."
"Later," Jamie said.
"See ya," Lemy said.
When Lupa was gone, Lemy leaned back against the wall and took a long drag, the smoke rolling out of his mouth and wafting into his nose. "Why do you wear that headband?" Jamie asked, a hint of disgust in her voice. Honestly, she had always liked Lemy. Like Lupa, he did his own thing regardless of what people thought or said about him. To Jamie, that was cool. Only posers worry over what other people think and say.
Lemy fixed her with a furrowed brow. In the dim, dishwasher light refracting through the leaden cloud cover overhead, he was kind of cute. "Why don't you inhale?" he shot back.
Jamie's chest tightened. "I do inhale," she lied.
"No you don't," Lemy said cooly. "You just hold it in your mouth and then blow it out."
Jamie's face burned with shame. That's exactly what she did but still, she didn't like hearing it. "Fuck you," she said through her teeth. She flung the cigarette to the ground and stormed off, trying to look more mad than embarrassed and, she thought, largely succeeding. Stupid fucking Lemy, how dare he call her out on something that was one hundred percent true. She oughta go back there and bust a WWE move on him. She could totally do it, too. One of her favorite things to watch on TV was Monday Night Raw. She'd been with it for years and knew all the moves. She'd even practiced a few of them in some of the fights she'd been in. She was especially fond of the Sharpshooter. Anything up close and personal.
Those moves made her pussy tingle.
Like every Loud of a certain age, sex loomed large in Jamie's life. Around eleven, she felt the first faint stirring of passion in her loins and began to rub her thighs together here and there. She graduated to rubbing her pussy with her fingers, and then to fingering herself, all the way to the knuckle. Her bloodline on her father's side was tainted with perversion and it had filtered down into his children. There was a rumor among the kids that Lisa, the mad scientist of the family, had done some kind of gene altering bullshit to the Louds' DNA, resulting in hypersexuality. There was also a theory that Lucy, who today ran an occult bookstore and black magick shop in nearby Pine Hills, had summoned a demonic entity as a child, and that the family was either outright cursed or willingly engaged in sexual sacrifice, fucking one another and their offspring as an act of defiance to God.
Jamie didn't really believe any of those, but she got why some did. How the fuck do you rationally explain the Loud family? No, seriously, explain how a boy and his sisters could fuck, have a bunch of kids, then fuck the kids while the kids fuck each other. Explain how this can happen without turning into some dark and disturbing episode of a true crime show on Investigation Discovery. You can't. No matter what you come up with, it's going to sound stupid and like pure nonsense. oH tHeY lOvE eAcH oThEr. Dude, incest isn't normal. What healthy and normal family does this?
That wasn't to say that Jamie was any better than anyone else. Lemy was her half brother and she wouldn't lie, she thought he was cute. She also thought her Dad was hot. There was something about him, something magnetic, something that she couldn't for the life of her explain but that attracted her anyway. Lincoln Loud wasn't a traditionally attractive man. He wasn't muscular or overly handsome, he didn't have a square jaw like an action movie hero and he didn't have the soft, sensuous features of a boy band back up dancer. He was tall and rail thin with white hair and a hairy chin. His eyes, however, were soft and brown, moist with love and compassion. His hands were large and gentle, but there were faint callouses on his palms from the few years he spent working for the state highway department as a younger man. When he touched you, you got the best of both worlds: Rugged manliness and soft sensitivity.
An electric spark went down Jamie's spine at the thought of being held in his strong arms. She loved it when he hugged her, loved to nuzzle into his chest, loved to draw his warm, comforting scent into her nose, loved the warm and feel of his body.
Yeah, she had kind of a thing for her father. So what? It might not be normal in whatever world you inhabit, but here, in Royal Woods, on Franklin Avenue, it was just another day at the office. It helped that there were so many Loud kids, and that so many townspeople of her father's generation had been coopted into the madness. Clyde had children with Lori and Leni; Rocky had one or two with Lucy and another with Lana; Skippy had two with Lana and one with Lola (the result of an April Fool's prank where Lana and Lola switched identities). Poppa Wheelie had one with Lynn; seriously, everywhere you went, the Loud family was connected. Everyone was well aware of what went on within the family and if they didn't actively participate or expressly support it, they accepted it.
It was in that environment that Jamie had been born and raised. She understood how strange it all was but she was also balls deep in the culture. It was what it was, she guessed.
Inside, she made her way down the deserted corridors to her classroom. The teacher was in full sermon mode when she opened the door and walked in. He stopped and favored her with a dirty look, and predictably, everyone turned to look at her. She was pretty sure that she was related to half of her classmates, if not all of them. That Indian girl with the red dot in the center of her forehead was kind of sus but she had a very Lincoln-like overbite, so who knows?
"How nice of you to join us, Jamie," the teacher said, his dialogue ripped straight from the most cliched bag of stuff teachers say. Who wrote your lines, asshole, John Hughes?
"Yeah, I was busy," Jamie said and took her seat.
The teacher raised his eyebrow. "With?"
"Skipping."
Everyone laughed and Jamie smirked. She liked getting one over on the teachers. It made her feel strong, powerful. She liked feeling that way. It gave her a hard on.
Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Some people - those who had more than a touch of the tism - whispered back and forth that she was really a boy, or trans, or gay, or something. The lore of the Louds was deep and varied and filled with some of the most retarded urban legends she had ever heard - Lemy was sterile, Ladd's balls were made of diamonds, Lyra was a Christian, someone named Lyle existed - but the one about her being a dude was the dumbest of them all. Sure, she was kind of scrawny and her boobs didn't stick out, and yeah, she had kinda short hair and not much going on in the hips and butt department, and it wasn't incorrect to say that she was a little on the shapeless side, but that didn't mean she had a peen. Why do people always go there? It was like that with what's her face, Loops? Loopoo? There was one Loud girl people said had a dick. Like have you ever seen it? Unless it's been in your mouth, stfu. And if it has, you're a fag lol. Don't give me that shit about how liking traps and femboys is perfectly hetero. If you're a raging homo, fine, a lot of people are, Jamie didn't give half a shit, but you're deluding yourself. Just be honest: You like some cock. It's okay. Cock's awesome.
She was speaking from experience here. She hadn't taken a cock to crotch yet but she jerked a couple boys off and sucked one. That might make her sound like a slut, but don't worry, she was related to them (somehow) so it was all good. You're not a whore if you keep it in the family. You can get tag-teamed every night, five times a night, but if the guys turning you out shared the same blood as you, you were good.
Did adopted family members count?
Hmm, she didn't know. That was kind of a moral gray area.
Anyway, the teacher rolled his eyes but didn't challenge her further, perhaps afraid of getting btfo again. She paid attention until the lesson got jumbled in her brain, then decided to goof off until the period was over. She stared out the window and thought about wrestling…and her father. Were those her two favorite things? She didn't know if they were necessary, but she liked both of them.
When class mercifully ended, Jamie went to her locker, stowed her books, and went to her last class of the day: Study hall. She had homework and resolved to do it, but five questions in, she got confused and frustrated, so she moved onto doodling. She drew herself with a big championship belt around her waist and tits the size of her half sister Gloom's. She drew arrows pointing to them. See? I'm a girl.
Yeah.
A girl.
Guy In Real Life.
She snorted at her joke. It was dumb but she liked dumb humor. If people need a Ph.D. to understand your jokes, you're doing something wrong. Smart people always have to complicate shit. That was one of their biggest character flaws, Jamie had observed. They overthink everything. Sure, there were, like, complex problems and stuff, so you couldn't always be simple, but damn, it's like they made an art out of running themselves in circles.
Jamie was happy to be a normie. There was nothing wrong with being a normie, especially when you consider the kinds of people who throw that word - normie - around as an insult. They mean it to say that you're basic, an NPC, a conformist, but the only ones Jamie had ever seen call other people normies were so fucking far in left field that it's like…you'd be better off if you were normal. "I can't stand normies." Dude, you're fifty and still drawing My Little Pony fan art. Yes, compared to you I'm normal.
Smart people, Jamie decided, were low key dumb.
After what felt like a thousand years, the bell rang and the school day came to a whimpering end, like a wet fart. Jamie left her homework in her locker, deciding not to do it and to just take the L, then left by the front door, her tall, lanky body being pushed along by the rushing river of humanity hurrying for the exit. She bypassed the county school buses waiting at the curb and walked home with her hands shoved into her pockets.
She and her mother lived alone in a small, tumbledown Cape Cod on a narrow side street in one of Royal Woods' poorer neighborhoods. An alley flanked by tall wooden fences ran along the backyards of the street and Jamie went in through the rear gate. She climbed the back steps, fished around for her keys…and sputter.
Shit.
Where were her keys?
She patted her pockets but the keys were gone.
Her heart sank.
Mom was at work and wouldn't be back for another three hours.
Damn it.
Hoping against hope, Jamie checked all the windows but they were locked up tight.
Shit, now what?
The only thing she could do was go to Dad's house and wait until Mom got home. That worked, since Jamie really wanted to see her father anyway.
Leaving the house, she walked through the fading late afternoon sunlight to the house on Franklin Avenue where Dad lived with the bulk of the Loud family. Grandma and Grandpa had retired to Florida and signed the house over; they lived in a condo near Daytona Beach and enjoyed not doing much of anything.
She reached Franklin Avenue fifteen minutes later. Vanzilla, which Grandpa had sold to Dad before the big move, was parked in the driveway, its body dented and flecked with rust. It looked every bit the 80 years old it was. Dad seriously needed to upgrade to something better, but like Grandpa, he was really sentimental about it.
Weird but whatever.
She went up to the door and rang the bell. She waited a minute but no one answered, so she tried the knob.
Unlocked.
She pushed the door open and went inside. A wall of flowery fragrance rushed over her and her nose crinkled. With so many people living here, the place always stank - of food, of sweat, of spill, of living - so Dad used tons of sprays, plug ins, and powders. What didn't rush over Jamie was silence. The place was usually loud, abuzz with activity, but now it was silent. "Hello?" she called. She swore her voice echoed.
Pushing deeper into the house, she found her father sitting on the couch with his legs kicked up on the coffee table. "Hey," he greeted.
"Hey," Jamie said, "where is everyone?"
"The carnival," Dad said.
Oh, right, the carnival was in town. Jamie totally forgot because the carnival was for babies. She was way too cool and mature for the carnival. "Oh," she said. She walked over and dropped onto the couch next to her father. "Why didn't you go?"
"I needed a break," he said. "I love my family but sometimes I like not being hounded by fifty people at one time."
"Oh, well, I guess I better go."
She started to get up but he stopped her. "No, stay. We rarely ever get to hang out one on one. How's life?"
Jamie shrugged. "Eh, it's okay, I guess. Just doing my thing."
"How are your grades?"
"Alright," she said. That wasn't a lie really. They weren't good, they weren't terrible. She wasn't going to be valedictorian or anything, but she also wasn't in danger of being held back, so there was that.
Dad nodded. "That's good. I know you struggle sometimes. You just need to focus. You're a smart girl, you just don't like school and if you're anything like me, if you don't like something, your heart just isn't in it."
"Yeah, pretty much," Jamie said. "School's gay."
Dad laughed. "I used to think the same thing, though in my day calling something "gay" got you canceled."
"Like…would you get suspended?" Jamie asked, intrigued. Was it that easy? Say gay and get sent home? Awesome.
Dad shook his head. "Nah, they'd just call you a racist or something."
Ah, yes, the good old days, when that word still meant something. After decades of repetition, it had lost all weight. I'm a racist? Okay, seig heil, now fuck off.
"Lame," Jamie said.
"Yep," Dad replied.
They lapsed into silence and watched TV for a while. Jamie started getting bored and began to check him out from the corner of her eye. He was looking extra attractive today in a pair of tight slacks and a polo that clung to his semi-muscular frame. A lump formed in her throat and her stomach knotted. She wanted to touch and feel him.
An idea came to her.
"Wanna wrestle?" she asked.
"Wrestle?"
"Sure," Jamie said and got up. "Wrestling is fun."
That got a chuckle from Dad and he stood. "Okay, but I'm an old man, be gentle with me."
They faced each other, then Jamie slipped behind him and threw her arms around his waist. She hugged him tight and tried to throw him onto the couch, but he held fast, bracing his feet and slightly bending his knees. His toned butt rubbed against her crotch and a tingle went up her spine. She hooked her leg behind his and wrenched him to the side; they tumbled onto the couch in a tangle of limbs. Dad broke free and got to his feet, Jamie following and spearing him. He grabbed her and his hands grazed her breasts through her shirt. She got behind him again and inadvertently (she told herself) grabbed his groin.
He froze and for a minute she didn't know what to do, then started to stroke and rub him through his pants. "Jamie," he said.
"Yeah?"
"What are you doing?"
Jamie shrugged. "Wrestling."
Her fingers crept to his zipper and undid his pants. Almost against his will, he was hard, poking through the front of his boxers. She reached her hand into the slot of his boxers and wrapped her fingers around his dick. It was hard and smooth and hot to the touch, and her heart skipped a beat. She ran her hand up and down its length and Dad shivered. She got in front of him and stared down at it as she kneaded it with her fingers, loving how big and thick it was. She dropped to her knees and pressed her lips to the tip. She licked it and then took it tentatively into her mouth. Dad threw his head back and ran his fingers through her hair as she bobbed her head up and down.
It wasn't long until Dad pulled her to her feet and kissed her, their tongues swirling feverishly around one another. She was clumsy and unsure of herself but Dad led her through the steps of the primal dance, one he had done a million times before.
Soon, he was bending her over the arm of the couch, her shorts and underwear around her ankles. She gently glided his fingers in and out of her, greasing the way. She dug her nails into the couch and bit her bottom lip, feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain. When he went to go put his dick in, however, it was so big that it hardly fit. As soon as the head slipped in, Jamie cried out in skull cracking pain. He withdrew and said, "I don't think you're ready for me." Then he smiled. "But I know someone who's just as good."
Jamie looked over her shoulder just as Lemy walked up. "Hey, Dad," he said.
He had come in a few minutes ago and had been watching from the corner. Lincoln noticed and wanted to tag him in since Lincoln wasn't the kind of guy to bogart all the pussy and make his son watch cucked from the sidelines. Jamie was so turned on that she didn't care. In fact, she did like Lemy, so…
"I got her all warmed up for you," Dad said and slapped Jamie's butt.
Lemy grinned.
Jamie turned around as he unzipped his pants. Seconds later, she felt him knocking at her door. He thrusted his hips and his dick plunged deep into her guts, knocking a grunt from her lips and filling her head with stinging red pain. Her cherry popped and she dug her nails deeper into the couch. Gritting her teeth, she held on for dear life as Lemy began to rut her, slowly at first, then faster as her body loosened up and accepted his length and breadth. Lemy grabbed her hips and she bit her lower lip with a strangled nngh. She stuck her butt out as far as she could and threw herself back into his thrusts. He got a little carried away and pulled her hair back; tears welled in her eyes but she liked it. She let out a grunt of "Fuck yes" and swiveled her hips, liking the feeling of him twisting and turning inside of her.
Soon, he flipped her onto her back. She lay draped over the arm of the couch with her socked feet in the air, the blood rushing to her head. He spread her legs and plowed into her, his hands gripping her ankles. She closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation of being fucked; she was powerless to move, to participate, to do anything but lay there and let him have his way with her. She had never realized how hot that was until now. Lemy closed his hands over her tiny tits and squeezed, making her cry out in a combination of pain and pleasure.
Next, he flipped her onto her stomach. Stretched out on the couch, she stuck her butt up and let him demolish it, his dick slamming hard against her limit and making her release tiny moans, mewls, and cries. She bowed her head as if in prayer and took every inch of him like a champ. She was just starting to cum when he grew to twice his normal size and she felt like she was going to split right down the middle. A second later, boiling liquid shot into her core and she screamed as her mind scrambled and her body burst in a dazzling display of eclectic sensation.
Lemy slumped against her and they lay in a heap, sweating and panting. Finally, he pulled out in a rush of their mingled juices and they sat up. "That was pretty nice," Jamie understated.
"Yeah," Lemy said, doing the same, "you were okay too."
Dad was right, she wasn't ready for him quite yet, but she was ready for Lemy.
Any time, anywhere.
And she was in no rush to move onto Dad.
THE END
