Chapter Two: Just Like You
For all that is holy… did my little sister just flash her panties at me? Willingly?
This is messed. This is unreal. This is absolutely fucking crazy. There are so many things wrong with what I just saw, what just happened, that there's no way I can list them all. Whoever is out there, I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!
"Onii-chan… is something wrong?"
No no no no no no no no. There's no way, just no way, she's calling me onii-chan. This isn't Kirino, this is the devil himself here, tempting me to hell. I've played too much eroge, I've had too many fantasies, I'm imagining my little sister, oh my god, I'm imagining my little sister doing perverted things for me. Oh my god.
I'm a siscon, yes, yes I'm a siscon. But not a siscon for her – no way, just no way.
My little sister, who just flashed her panties at me, approaches me, concerned. I turn around, and I run. She follows me, and she cries, "Onii-chan, wait, onii-chan!" completely oblivious to the growing look of horror on my face.
On reaching my room, I make the mistake of looking out there one last time. And yes, she's following me, she's practically so close I can't close the door in time. But I manage. And the look of hurt on her face, of rejection, sends me reeling. I want to let her in, I want to lie beside her, hug her...
What is happening to me? I don't care; I'm locking the door.
She doesn't bang like I expect her to. She doesn't throw a tantrum in the corridor, she doesn't call me onii-chan, and she definitely doesn't offer to show me her panties. No, all is silent. Is she gone?
I open the door, just a crack, half expecting her to be there, half expecting her to punch me and call me a pervert, or a molester, or just plain old gross – anything to deny what I just saw.
There's no one. She isn't there.
And I can't forget. There's no way I'll ever be able to forget this. No way I'll ever be able to look at my sister as a sister again.
Because her panties, her delicious teddy bear panties are all that I can associate her with.
I know, there's one way to clear my mind. Shaking, I dig under my bed for my savior, for my megane material. I try to imagine Manami, with her bouncy breasts and all-so-wonderful glasses. I have her repeating "Kyou-chan!", "Kyou-chan!" in my mind, over and over. Yes, that's more like it! She's hugging me, and she's kissing me, and I'm playing with her glasses, teasing her…
I ask her if she's ready. If we can do it. And she says yes, she says, "I'm ready, onii-chan… my panties are getting wet…", and she plops herself down onto her back, spreading her legs, giving me a full view of her teddy bear…
Oh my god.
The magazine slips onto the floor. My eyes flutter open, and I push myself up into a sitting position. With my feet, I rip the magazine piece by piece, tearing it into chunks, and then I tear at it some more. I tear at the pieces of the magazine until the images of unclothed megane women are strewn all over my room. All of them have my sister's face. All of them are flashing their teddy bear panties at me.
I scatter the pieces some more, and I make my way out of the room, descending the stairs for a second time. And you know what? I do so hoping that she's there again. Waiting for me. With the hem of her skirt lifted up. I'm horny for my sister. It's so wrong, and yet so right, so excitingly right.
Of course, she isn't there. The house is silent. The kitchen is cold and spotless. The dining table is bare. The living room is quiet, the TV off. Is she in her room? I make my way back up to the second floor, knocking once, twice, three times. No answer.
Cautiously, I push her door open. It creaks louder and more audibly than ever.
But she isn't there either.
I wish she was. Oh, how I wish she was.
No, it's not because I want to see her. Maybe just a little… no, the real reason is before me. Her laundry is in a corner. There are several pairs of panties among the pile of clothes. For the first time in my life, a girl's lingerie has never seemed so delectable. I feel myself growing hard at the very thought, at the very sight.
With baby steps, I edge my way towards her laundry basket with the sickest thought on my mind – I hope they're dirty. I reach out, eyeing a black lace panty and matching bra. I can't help but indulge… I'm so close, just a bit more…
"What are you doing?"
Shit.
"Helping you… clean up?" I ask hopefully.
She says nothing. Her face is blank, all of her emotions stowed away.
This isn't my sister. My sister wouldn't stand there idly as her brother prepares to use her underwear to relieve himself. My sister would chuck the bag of groceries she's holding at me, and she would follow that up by chucking every object within reach at me. She'd scream every demeaning word in her vocabulary, and toss me out of her room with her cell phone in hand, ready to call Mom and Dad, to weep with terrorized sobs into the microphone, bemoaning the reality that she can't live with me anymore, because her brother is a sick pervert that deserves to be locked up.
No, she isn't my sister. That makes this right. It makes it so very right.
I reach in, taking hold of the object of my greatest desire. Still, she does nothing. This is so wrong, and it's making me that much more excited.
I'm going to do it. With her watching me. I'm going to pleasure myself with my little sister watching, using my little sister's matching bra and panties. And I've never felt more excited.
"Come down for dinner when you're done, aniki."
Just like that, she turns around and leaves.
Surely she jests. There's no way she wants me to use her underwear like this, right?
I make sure to be as noisy as possible. I want her to know how much she turns me on, so that she can feel disgusted and horrified by what her brother is. So that when I come down from my high, when the reality of what I'm doing sets in and hits me like a hangover, she won't dare approach me. She'll regret telling me to enjoy myself for the rest of her life, a regret so big that it'll be a dark cloud hanging over her whenever she thinks of me.
Now, as I sit down at the dinner table, I make sure to give her the lewdest look I know. You can say I'm confident that my little sister won't come near me again. Most certainly won't be offering to flash her panties at me. The distance across the dinner table will be the closest we'll ever be. The distance as we pass each other in the corridor. As we bump into each other on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
We eat in silence. I keep looking at her, maintaining my lewd expression even as I chew. If she notices, she again says nothing. She doesn't look at me, not once. When the time comes to fetch something from my side of the table, she doesn't ask me; she walks around to my end, and fetches it by herself.
I'll test the waters.
"It's good, Kirino…"
She glares daggers at me.
I've succeeded… and I'm absolutely elated.
And yet, my heart throbs as she finishes her meal without a word, leaving me to clean up. It throbs as I wonder what she's doing about the mess I've made of her room. What she's doing about her…
No. No more of these thoughts. She'll clean them and that's all. Nothing questionable. Nothing.
As I clean our dishes, the realization of what I've done hits me like a truck. What if she wasn't even serious? What if she flashed her panties on a high, like I was? She's not like me, after all. She's still young, she's only fourteen, she's a damn middle schooler, and no doubt relishes all the attention she can get. For calling me onii-chan, for stepping over the boundary between siblings just a little, forgivable bit, I've gone and soiled her undergarments and her room with a part of me.
What have I done? If she stepped over the line, I drove a train through it.
How will I face her? How will I face my parents when they find out about this? They're going to lock me up, put me in rehab, I just know it, I just know she's on the phone right now, absolutely terrified.
I'll watch some TV to calm down. I'll watch some news, glean some insight into the world at large. I won't let it eat at me, no, I won't let the fact that I've destroyed the relationship with my sister haunt me.
But as I surf through channels, I can feel myself growing angry. Anger directed at her actions, fury directed at my own. I've messed up. I'm messed up. Is she messed up as well? I can't deny that the feeling of her panties against my skin was pure euphoria. That the fact that she didn't mind, that she flashed her panties for me and called me onii-chan ticked off every perverted hormone in my body.
Calling me "aniki" was a dream come true.
But for my sister to call me "onii-chan", for it to be so genuine, for her to offer me a side of her that is utterly foreign, utterly sublime, is like an eroge coming to life. And I like it. No, I love it.
At the very least, I need to make up with her. I want to at least be on speaking terms with her. I need to make up with her now, before it's too late. Before our parents come home.
Fifteen minutes.
I knock on her door again.
As if she were waiting for me, the door opens immediately. Her face is completely red, and her eyes flit in and out of contact with mine.
"Aniki…"
Checkbox one. She's still calling me by a name. I haven't completely wrecked everything. I take advantage of her lack of eye contact to scan her room, searching for the evidence. It's laid out neatly on her bed, dried but not without obvious indications of use.
"Di-did you enjoy yourself?"
What? She's asking me if I enjoyed myself? I look through her room again, hoping she hasn't hidden a voice recorder somewhere out of sight.
"It-it's not that I care or anything… it's just, y-you w-were using m-m-m-my panties…"
If you're ever in a situation where your little sister asks if you enjoyed using her panties to pleasure yourself, please, don't respond with what I'm about to respond. And I'm telling you, you will be tempted to respond the way I'm about to, because she's just too damn cute, because I just can't lie to her.
"Yeah, I did."
If she's recording this, I'm in trouble. If she's recording this, she's going to slam her door shut. She's going to barricade herself in her room until Dad or another police officer shows up to arrest her deviant of a brother. Anytime now…
"You're disgusting," she remarks, spitting in my face.
I don't flinch. Although I want to, it's exactly what I need to hear. She isn't afraid of me, I haven't had her try to shut the door on me; I can still convince her I'm reformed. My life can still return to normal.
"I'm so-"
"But you're my disgusting onii-chan," she concludes, interrupting me.
"Huh…?"
"Kirino will love onii-chan no matter how perverted he is… because… because Kirino is perverted too…"
There are flecks of white on her lips.
Author's Note
This is displacing "The Last Wall" as chapter 2, which is now chapter 3. I felt I was moving the story along too fast; it's still too fast, in my opinion. I'm really bummed that I haven't given enough attention to why Kirino calls him "onii-chan" – I don't think the current justification is believable. I might revise these chapters someday.
I'm well aware I'm pushing the boundaries of what is rated T and what is rated M at this point. I'm going to continue pushing these boundaries.
