Lincoln Loud was a man on the edge.

The edge of a freaking nervous breakdown. As he sat in the overstuffed armchair in the living room, his legs draped over one arm and his head resting against the other, he stole quick, sudden looks around like a crackhead gripped in the throes of rock induced paranoia. Every sound made him jump and when he tried to lose himself in his comic, his right eye would begin to twitch. The last time he looked at his reflection in the mirror, his face was pallid and gaunt, and dark bags drooped beneath his bloodshot eyes. If he were a grown man, he'd have a five o clock shadow and probably a drinking problem.

Normally, Lincoln was what you might call a "chill dude." He didn't take things to heart and could take a mean joke, sick burn, or even a noogie. He had ten sisters, after all, and they could be downright vicious at times. He had been pranked, beaten up, screwed over, called names, and generally tormented a thousand ways from Sunday in his life and had thus developed a high tolerance for abuse. You could call him any name you wanted and it would just roll off his back. You could cram him in a locker or trip him in the hall in front of everyone, and he'd just deal with it. But his sister, Lynn, had found a way to reduce him to a trembling mess.

By bopping his head.

All summer long, Lynn, who had grown a few inches during the year and felt like a giant, had made a game of walking around and patting her younger siblings on the top of their head. She would hold her palm flat and stiff and bring it down with varying degrees of force. Sometimes it rattled your brain, other times it was feather soft…which was somehow even worse. She would pop out of nowhere when you least expected it and boop, there it was. She did it thirty times a day, forty, nonstop from morning to night.

Naturally, Lincoln was her primary target, but Lucy got it almost as bad. Sometimes Lynn would even pat their heads in their sleep. It was enough to drive you crazy. The first day of school was tomorrow, and though he couldn't believe he was saying this, Lincoln was looking forward to it. Anything that got him away from Lynn for a while was alright by him.

He was just starting to get back into the comic when he caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. His heart rocketed into his throat and he jumped like a man in the electric chair. He was sure that it was Lynn come to bop him on the head again, but thankfully, it was only Lucy. She sat down on the couch, back stiff and straight, and rested her hands on her knees. Her eyes were hidden behind her bangs but he could feel her watching him. "You look like crap," she said. Her voice was hoarse and cracking. Her face was pale…or more pale than usual…and her hair was messy as though she had just gotten out of bed. If he could see her eyes, he was convinced that they would be just as bloodshot as his.

"You don't look much better," Lincoln said, settling back down.

"I know," Lucy replied. "Lynn kept getting me last night."

A shiver went down Lincoln's spine. "Better you than me."

"Thanks," Lucy said.

Lincoln sat his comic in his lap and shot a quick look around. "I can't relax," he confided. "Every time I try, the back of my neck starts tingling and I get the urge to jump up. Just sitting here, my heart's racing. At any moment she can -" he looked around again "-strike."

"Imagine living in the same room as her," Lucy said. "At least you can close and barricade your door. I can't. I've been sleeping in the bathtub for three weeks straight." Her jaw seemed to clench slightly and a shadow passed over what was visible of her face. "I swear to God, I'm going to get her back."

There was firm conviction in her voice. Lucy was not a spiteful person, she was almost as easy going as he was, but she meant what she said. Lincoln couldn't blame her. Lynn had been terrorizing them for months and they were both at their wits' end. Honestly, Lincoln wouldn't mind getting back at Lynn himself. That smug look on her face every time she bopped him - nah nah nah you can't do anything about it, you're too small and weak - and the malicious light of sadistic joy in her eyes were enough to engender sheer hatred. He didn't hate Lynn, of course, but she absolutely needed to be knocked down a peg or three.

Then again, vengeance wasn't a positive thing at all. What was that saying about an eye for an eye making the whole world blind? Yeah, Lincoln wasn't into that. It was better to solve your problems in a reasonable and diplomatic way than to simply go for revenge.

He started to say so, but all at once, Lynn popped up from behind the chair and brought her hand down on the top of his head with all her might. His neck compressed in slow motion like a crash test on TV and water sprang to his eyes. Lynn let out a mad cackle and slammed his head against the chair's padded back. It didn't hurt, but it jostled his brain in his skull like a minnow in a fishbowl, and vertigo crashed over him. Lucy cringed and threw up her hands to defend herself, but Lynn was not dissuaded. She charged forward, shouted, "Gimme that head!" and slapped the top of Lucy's skull just as hard as she had slapped the top of Lincoln's.

Victorious, Lynn pounded her chest like an ape and gave a whooping cry of triumph. "You guys are too easy," she said with a laugh. "You better watch out because Lynn the Headhunter is just getting warmed up." She made a show of cracking her knuckles. She threw back her head and let out a long, cruel laugh as she walked off, leaving her victims traumatized behind her. Lucy lay on her side, legs dangling over the edge of the couch, and stared into space, her mouth a thin white slash across her face. Lincoln was curled up in a ball, shaking and trying to keep from cracking entirely. He couldn't take this anymore. God, he'd rather be dead!

"I'm going to get her," Lucy vowed.

"I wanna help," Lincoln spoke up. "This has gone on long enough. It's time she suffered a little. What do we do?"

Lucy was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know, but it has to be big."

And that was that. They drifted apart and went about their own activities, Lucy hiding in the vents and Lincoln reading comics in his bedroom. He racked his brain for a way to get back at Lynn, but most of his ideas were convoluted and impractical. He thought of going to Luan and getting help setting up traps for Lynn, but Luan tended to get mad if you asked for her help with pranks. "Oh, you hate all my pranks until you need one of them," she would say in a deeply offended tone. "I thought you wanted me to stop. What changed, Linc? Huh? What changed?"

No, he couldn't go to her. If he wanted to set up bobby traps, he'd have to figure it out himself.

Hmm. He could if he really wanted to, but honestly, he wanted his revenge to be a little more…hands on. He wanted to administer punishment to Lynn directly, to take an active role in making her pay for her crimes.

How he would accomplish this goal, however, he didn't know. Until then, he figured, he'd just read his comic. It was really good. In it, Ace Savvy fought the evil Baron Samedi, a powerful voodoo witch doctor who could cast spells and raise the dead. In one particularly harrowing scene, Samdei made a voodoo doll of Ace and stuck it full of pins. Everything that Samdei did to the doll, Ace felt. It was -

A bright light of revelation burst in the center of Lincoln's skull. That's it, he thought, a voodoo doll.

Throwing the comic aside, he rushed to Lucy's room, finding her alone. She sat up in bed reading from a hardback book. "I got it," Lincoln said.

'Got what?" she asked.

"How we get back at Lynn."

Lucy sat up and took notice. "How?" she asked.

"You know voodoo, right?"

Lucy missed a beat. "Yes," she said, "I have studied many schools of the dark arts."

Stealing a quick look around to make sure that they were indeed alone and that Lynn wasn't going to sneak up on them, Lincoln told Lucy about his idea. It was simple, really. Make a voodoo doll of Lynn and torment it the way she had tormented them. "Do you think we can do it?" he asked when he was finished.

Lucy stroked her chin thoughtfully. "I think we can."

"Can the doll be any type of doll?" Lincoln asked. "Or does it have to be a little one made of straw or something."

"Any type will work," Lucy said, "why?"

Lincoln flashed a grin. "I have the perfect doll in mind."

The next day, after school, Lincoln led Lucy to the municipal dump outside of town, where piles of junk and garbage towered over narrow, maze-like pathways. On a certain heap of plastic based refuse lay a white, featureless mannequin, its arms and legs twisted and its head bent to one side. It was roughly Lynn's size, and had breasts and hips, suggesting it was a female of its species. "This," Lincoln said and kicked it.

"That'll work," Lucy said.

They carried the doll between them like a wounded friend and smuggled it into Lincoln's bedroom. Next, they gathered the supplies they would need. Lucy got candles and salt, and Lincoln stole a change of clothes from Lynn's dresser along with a clump of hair from her brush. In Lincoln's room, Lucy drew a pentagram on the floor with salt and laid the doll on top. Lincoln had dressed it in Lynn's clothes - red shorts, red and white jersey, pair of crew socks pulled up the calves. He taped the hair to the top of the mannequin's bald head and watched as Lucy opened a book bound in cracked leather. She began to speak in a language he didn't recognize, and at once, static electricity charged the air. Outside, dark clouds rolled across the previously sunny sky and lightning flashed with a rumble like Judgement Day. Lincoln cringed and Lucy spoke louder, faster, as if wanting to get this done and over with.

A tremor raced through the floor, and a particularly violent gust of wind blew the window open with a crash. A glowing ball of electricity floated into the room, ghost-like, and Lincoln's jaw dropped in surprise. As Lucy continued to chant, the ball came over, hovered above the doll, and then settled over it, melding with it, becoming one. The doll shimmered, then the ball exploded, blinding Lincoln. When his eyes cleared, he and Lucy bent over to look at the doll.

What they saw shocked them.

The mannequin had taken on a decidedly human appearance. Eyes closed, lips slightly parted, it looked just like Lynn. Lincoln swallowed hard and laid his hand on her forehead. Her skin was warm and soft to the touch. "Oh my God," he muttered to himself.

"It's incredibly life-like," Lucy marveled. She poked the doll's cheek. "Her skin is pliant and realistic."

They both looked at each other.

And smiled evilly.

Lucy balled her fist and brought it down on Lynn's chest as hard as she could. In the next room, Lynn let out a breathless oof. Lincoln grabbed the doll's hair and wrenched it to one side. Lynn's cry drifted in from the hall. "Ow, what's wrong with my hair?"

Lincoln and Lucy shared a look.

It worked.

It actually worked.

Lincoln could hardly believe it. On some level, he didn't think that it would. He wanted to believe in magic, but come on, he wasn't seven anymore. He was too old for that…but young enough to believe in what he actually saw. Whatever he and Lucy did to the doll happened to Lynn in real life. He didn't know how it worked or what weird logic lay behind it, but he didn't need to.

Lucy slapped the doll across the face, and the real Lynn cried out in pain. Lincoln stuck his finger into his mouth, got it nice and wet, and then jammed it into the doll's ear. "WET WILLIE!" Lynn screamed from the hall. She sank to her knees and cupped her ear in the palm of her hand.

"Do you realize what we have here?" Lucy asked.

"I think I do," Lincoln replied.

"We have to take it easy," Lucy said. "I want to take it slow. Really build up the suspense and dread."

Lincoln liked that idea.

He liked it a lot.

They agreed to keep the doll in Lincoln's room since it would be too risky for Lucy to take it. Lincoln knelt next to his bed and shoved it underneath, which was awkward because it was no longer stiff and fixed but loose and limber like an actual human being. That night, Lincoln lay awake in bed, too excited to sleep. A thousand possibilities raced through his head. He could do anything he wanted to the doll and the sensation would be passed onto Lynn. He could pinch it, kick it, twist its ankle, even put pepper in its nose and send it into a sneezing fit. There was so much he could do. He just had to be careful not to go overboard. He wanted to get back at Lynn but he didn't want to kill her or anything.

Was it only pain that was passed onto the doll's likeness? If he broke its arm, would Lynn's bone actually snap, or would it only feel like it did? If he cut it, would a slash of blood appear on its namesake, or would she only get the feeling of being cut? He decided that he wanted to test that out. He wouldn't do it now, though, since Lynn was in bed. He'd wait until she was awake and then poke the doll's cheek with a thumbtack or something.

The thrill of what lay ahead kept Lincoln awake for hours. Around 2am, he finally dropped into a thin and fitful slumber, his head spawning dreams of vengeance and domination. In the morning, he hopped out of bed, dragged the Lynn doll out, and knelt next to it. His eyes crept over its body - her bare legs, the slight swell of her breast, the curve of her throat. It was so lifelike as to be uncanny.

He took a push pin from the wall and swiped it across the doll's right cheek. Later on, showered and dressed, he went down to the dining room and found his sisters at the table. He sought out Lynn, and sure enough, there was a fresh cut on her right cheek.

Wow.

He sat beside Lucy and ate his breakfast. Later, they walked to school together. He told her about his experiment and she nodded. "We do have to be careful," she said. "It'll be easy to get carried away beating up on it because it's a doll, but everything we do has real world consequences, so it's best we avoid doing anything too messed up."

"Agreed."

All that day, Lincoln was on tenterhooks as he waited for the last bell to ring. He couldn't concentrate and when he tried, his mind would wander back to the Lynn doll. He remembered how life like it was, how human, and a sick idea occurred to him. He pushed it away, however, and focused on all the pranks he'd pull on it. The first thing he would do would be small yet cruel: He'd wedge a pebble between its toes. The real Lynn would be uncomfortable and mystified all day. LOL.

Finally, school let out and he and Lucy rushed home. They took the doll out and knelt beside it. Lincoln stuck a pebble between the big two and second toe of its left foot, and Lucy pulled its hair. Lincoln gave the doll a noogie, and Lynn, walking home from school with her friends, winced and pressed her hand to her head. "You okay?" Margo asked.

"Yeah," Lynn said through her teeth, "just a headache." She dropped to the ground, pulled off her shoe, and looked for the rock she felt between her toes, but there was nothing there.

Damn it.

She didn't know what was going on here, but it was starting to kind of freak her out.

She hoped it was over soon.

Unfortunately for her, however, it was just getting started.

Over the next few days, Lincoln spent much time tormenting the Lynn doll. He would take it out from under his bed as soon as he got home and start messing with it. He gave it noogies, wet willies, and Indian burns. Sometimes he waited until the real Lynn was close by so that he could hear her reaction, other times he did it while she was at practice or in school. On day two, he dug one of Lily's nasty poop diapers out of the trash and sat it on the doll's face. For the rest of the day, real life Lynn had the smell of poop and pee in her nose, and nothing she did could get rid of it. In the span of a few days, she went from cocky and full of herself to twitching, looking over her shoulder, and carrying dark bags under her eyes. She looked the way Lincoln had recently felt.

Ha, take that, Lynn.

The more time Lincoln spent with the doll, the more his…ahem…natural curiosity was piqued, Urges that he couldn't quite explain overtook him and he began wondering how anatomically correct the doll was. He fought these urges tooth and nail, but they proved too great for him. One night, he lifted the doll's shirt to gaze at its breasts. They were small yet firm, the nipples brown and erect. Lincoln felt a stirring downstairs and tried but failed to resist reaching out and touching one. It was soft and yielding in his hand, warm, the nipple pressing insistently against his palm. He felt hot and shaky all over and his dick twitched in his pants. He swallowed hard and lightly traced his finger around her nipple, amazed at the way goosebumps ringed the flesh as though the doll were alive.

Miles away, sitting in class, Lynn felt the feathery sensation and her face turned beet red. She scratched her boob through her shirt with the heel of her palm, but the feeling wouldn't go away. Was there something in her bra? A bug, maybe?

She asked to be excused and rushed to the girls' room where she stripped out of her shirt and sports bra. There was nothing on her but she could feel the faint, phantom like touch nevertheless. It tickled at first, but now the sensation was different. It somehow managed to hurt and feel amazing at the same time. She crossed her arms over her naked chest and hugged herself hard, hoping to make it go away. A small part of her didn't want to, and when it did finally stop, she let out a shivery breath.

That was weird.

And kind of cool.

Across town, Lincoln pulled the doll's shirt down over its breasts and put his hands on his knees. He was disgusted with himself…but a very big part of him wanted to do it again…and to go further.

He tried to resist, but the very next day, he had the Lynn doll on the floor, kneeling over it. He slowly undressed it, and his heart jagged when he saw its pink and moist pussy. He swallowed hard and reached out, hesitating. He laid his hand on it and shivered at the wet heat. He ran his fingers along the slit, enjoying the damp and silky smooth flesh.

Downstairs, Lynn was sitting on the couch watching TV when she felt it. Her face instantly turned red and she snapped her legs closed. In his room, Lincoln breathlessly explored the doll's pussy, sliding one finger tentatively inside of it and sucking a shocked breath at how warm and tight it was. Lynn shoved her hands between her legs and pressed down like she had to pee. Panic consumed her and she crossed and uncrossed her legs. Lincoln slipped two fingers into the doll and massaged its wet walls. In the living room, Lynn sucked great gulps of breath and squirmed in place, both shocked and excited by the pulsating sensations racing through her. Lincoln found the doll's clit and began to rub it, making real life Lynn threw her head back and grit her teeth. Her hips began to spasmodically buck and she ran her fingers through her hair. Beside her, Lola gave her the side eye. "Uh…are you alright?"

"Fuck…yes," Lynn moaned and began to hump the air.

Lola looked disgusted. "You're sick," she said. She jumped up and walked away.

Lincoln pulled his fingers out and looked at them, coated in clear fluid. His dick was hard and he used the doll's juice to jack off. Lynn was disappointed that the sensation stopped, so she ran off to the bathroom to finish herself off. Meanwhile, Lucy watched Lincoln from the vents, a sinister smile on her face.

For two days, Lincoln tried to forget the doll under his bed, but it called his name, its body beckoning him, begging him to do whatever he wanted to it. Friday night, he finally broke down. He dragged the doll from under his bed around ten o clock and laid it out on the mattress. He stripped down to just his socks and climbed under the blankets with it. He cuddled up to it, his dick pressing into the side of its leg, and rubbed its breast. He began to kiss the side of its throat and to tweak its nipples.

In her room, Lynn sat up straight, her eyes going wide. She hadn't felt anything funny in days and was both relieved and disappointed. Now, however, she felt the faint flutter of wet heat against her neck and the touch of ghostly hands on her nipples.

Lincoln ran his hand down the doll's stomach and started to rub its already leaking pussy. Lynn crossed her legs and leaned forward like she had to puke. Lucy looked up from her book and smiled, knowing full well what was going on.

Kissing the doll's neck, Lincoln plunged his fingers into it. He rhythmically rocked his hips, rubbing his dick against its leg, and sucked its nipple into his mouth. Lynn was feverish from head to toe, and her panties were drenched. She braced her hands against the bed and threw her head back, a moan building in her throat.

Getting on top of the doll, hazy with desire, Lincoln thrust into it. Lynn let out a sharp gasp and held onto the sheet with both hands. Lucy was watching her now, smiling and enjoying Lynn's torment. Lincoln laid his hands on either side of the doll and began to fuck it, slow at first but quickly gaining speed. Its wet walls molded to his dick and its bubbling core scalding his sensitive flesh. He slipped his fingers into its hair, pulled himself to its mouth, and kissed its lips. Lynn lay back on her bed, her legs propped up in a M-shape and her body jerking. Her partially closed eyelids fluttered and hot exhalations burst from her rapidly rising chest. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she moaned. She lifted and lowered her hips as if to sheath the phantom dick inside of her. Lucy lay on her stomach, legs up and her face resting in her upturned palms.

This was good stuff.

Lincoln slammed into the doll, balls slapping its ass. He licked its lips and shoved his tongue into its mouth. His balls tightened and he fell over the edge. He didn't want this to end but there was no coming back. His dick swelled inside of the doll, then erupted, filling its womb with spurting ribbons of hot sprunk. Lynn tore at her hair and let out a scream as she climaxed. Her orgasm tore through her and she shook and shivered. When she was done, she brushed her damp hair out of her face and caught her breath. "Uh…I don't know what just happened," she said.

Lucy smiled. "It looked fun."

"It was," Lynn said, then her face darkened. "I just don't know what's going on or why."

There was a note of fear in her voice.

Good.

In his room, Lincoln stored the doll back beneath his bed for future use, then climbed under the sheets again. With a small smile on his face, he fell into a deep and dreamless slumber.

He liked voodoo, he decided.