There's No Way I Got Assigned To My Older Sister?! The Story Of How The Anthrostate Gave Me An Unthinkable Marriage by

There's No Way I Got Assigned To My Older Sister?! The Story Of How The Anthrostate Gave Me An Unthinkable Marriage

marumarun, ADHG, Adhg - Fandom, Adhg/, Anthrostate, Blow jobs, Cheetah, Cock rings, Come as Lube, Creampie, Dom/sub, F/M, Face-sitting, Female Anthro/Male Human, Femdom, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Forbidden Love, Furry, Furry (Fandom), Gender Role Reversal, HMOFA, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand jobs, Heat, Impregnation, Incest, Intercrural sex, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies romance, Interspecies sex, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Original Furry Character(s), Original Male Human Character(s), POV Second Person, Possessive behavior, Romance, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Scents & Smells, Sibling incest, Spanking, Spit Kink, Vaginal Sex, body worship, brother/sister, estrus, scent marking

The Anthrostate. A dystopian world run by female anthros, who have complete control of the world governments. The age of human women has passed, and only anthros and men are allowed to reproduce, giving birth to only human males and anthro women. Then there's the assignment proccess. Human men of age are forced into State marriages to anthro girls by the State. And the State knows best. Even in the most extreme circumstances.

What will you do after you've been assigned to your blood related older sister? She's a cheetah anthro, so things are definitely moving too fast!

I hope you enjoy my terrible light novel title. I had normal ones planned but I want it to be very clear that's it's about wincest.

Finally, a piece in prose! And funni HTML!

There's No Way I Got Assigned To My Older Sister?! The Story Of How The Anthrostate Gave Me An Unthinkable Marriage

marumarun

Summary:

The Anthrostate. A dystopian world run by female anthros, who have complete control of the world governments. The age of human women has passed, and only anthros and men are allowed to reproduce, giving birth to only human males and anthro women. Then there's the assignment proccess. Human men of age are forced into State marriages to anthro girls by the State. And the State knows best. Even in the most extreme circumstances.

What will you do after you've been assigned to your blood related older sister? She's a cheetah anthro, so things are definitely moving too fast!

I hope you enjoy my terrible light novel title. I had normal ones planned but I want it to be very clear that's it's about wincest.

Finally, a piece in prose! And funni HTML!

Chapter 1 Chapter Text

This office is pretty bleak. The Anthrostate's Assignment Facility, that is. It's not like you were one of those extremists that have a problem with getting assigned, but it's a little depressing to think about how you're going to marry a stranger. It's a bit convenient that several groups lobbied to raise the assignment age a few decades ago. It was pretty strange that a guy wouldn't be allowed to even drink by the time he got assigned. Even for the anthros, it could be difficult to start a household at eighteen, if they were lucky enough to get their husband that young. So the age was raised to twenty-two, to at least allow everyone to finish education if they chose that path.

You never did though, just drifting around entirely too many part-time jobs. You don't really have any ambitions, so it never bothered you. You most likely will end up a house-husband for your wife anyways. You've always been terrible when it comes to domestic skills, but hopefully, that can change. Your dad always tried to drill them into you, but you always prefer to run off and go have fun. You've finally reached your assignment date a few weeks following your birthday. The wait for men is pretty short, and pretty much only exists because the bureaucracy can't get even the simplest things done at a reasonable pace. You've spent this time thinking about what kind of person your wife could be.

It's impossible to not be a bit anxious, though. You're a pretty easygoing guy, but even you have to worry about who you'll have to spend the rest of your life with. Hopefully, she won't be some crazed psycho who's been in the waiting pool until she's forty. There are too many horror stories about how pent-up a lady like that can get. You guess it's because they have to make up for lost time, or something. You think you'd like a laid-back wife, smart with a good job, and a beautiful figure. You've always been a guy with unreasonable expectations. That's why you never had a relationship with an anthro "naturally." The State always prefers those. Some progressives really make a big stink about assignment, so this gives the State a better image in their eyes. There's also the fact that there's a lot less paperwork.

There's another thing that matches your picky criteria. It's not like you have a choice in species, but you definitely have a thing for felines. Sleek bodies with soft fur, cute perky ears, and a long tail to wrap around your body to show her affection. It's so cute how they rub their cheeks against you. But that's just wishful thinking. If she ends up being another predator, that's still okay with you. You're just not too much into prey species though. Their personalities are just a little too soft for you. You want a kind wife, but not a meek little lamb. The way a predator looks at you sends shivers down your spine. You'd even be okay with the smaller predators, like a fox or a mink. Their mischievous disposition would likely make a marriage really fun.

Regardless of your preferences, the needs of the State always come first.

"Mr. Anonymous? Please wait in the meeting room. It's just to your right, down the hallway," the receptionist says lazily.

He's a human man, probably to help ease any anxiety that assignmentees might have. He's got bags under his eyes, and you haven't seen him smile even once. It's a big city after all, and you're the last assignment for the day. It's past six, so the office is already supposed to be closed. It's not a good sign for your wife to be late, especially this late. You hope it's not a yeen, especially since she's running on yeen time it seems. You sit there in the meeting room where the couples get to meet for the first time. The wallpaper is a light blue, with a trim that's pictures of cartoon dinosaurs. Did the State really need to repurpose a pediatrician's room?

At least that means you won't have to have your first time with your wife at the assignment building.

Probably.

You shudder at the thought that she'd be into that. The staff will probably beat you out of the building with a broom if you try to stay even longer after hours anyways. You hear a knock on the door. "Come in," you say. You hear the door clicking open. And in she walks. She's a beautiful cheetah anthro, with spots painted on her yellow fur. The pattern is a bit strange though, with three black stripes running down her neck to her tail. Her fur is fluffier and thicker than a regular cheetah, giving her a puffy appearance. She's a rare "color morph" of a regular cheetah, a queen cheetah. The fur on the top of her head is permanently disheveled, with a cowlick or two sticking up like she just got out of bed.

Her body has proportions that mostly match what you'd expect. A toned upper body, with perky breasts, on the edge of being called small compared to the average cheetah. They're put completely to shame compared to any model. Any fat she does have went all to her ass and legs, a pleasant plushness to them that you wouldn't find on a feline that actually ever exercised. She brings the overly long sleeves of her sweater up to her mouth, just the fingertips of her paws sticking out. It's your older sister, Scarlett. Your actual older sister, not your step-sister like you'd see in a weird fetishy porno. It's not like you're a fan of the genre or anything.

"Anon?" she says in a mildly surprised voice. "What are you doing here?"

This is awkward.

"I was waiting for my assigned wife...?" you trail off.

She chuckles a bit. "I must have gotten the wrong room. Wait until I tell my friends about this." She's eyeing you with an amused expression.

"It's funny that we're getting assigned on the same day. We can catch up after we're done." She continues. "See you! I've got to get to room 2B."

The blood drains from your face. "Scarlett, this is 2B..."

She opens the door and looks at the plaque posted next to it. "Woah, this is actually kind of awkward now. Let's go talk to the staff and get them to fix this," she says.

You get off the chair and start to follow her, chatting on the way. "This is weird now, but it's gonna be a funny story whenever we go see Mom and Dad again," She smiles a bit after your joke. "It's been a few years since you've gone back, right? Dad's pissed that his daughter hasn't visited or called him," you say.

"I've just been too busy. It's not like I was trying to avoid you guys or anything," she says with a tinge of guilt in her voice.

The two of you reach the reception desk. "Excuse me, there seems to be a mistake here. This girl's my sister."

A huge sigh escapes the staff member's mouth. "All assignments are final," he says.

"This is a special case though. Can't you get us a manager or something?" you ask.

"Wait here. I'll tell her that she's got some visitors trying to see her in her office." He presses a speed dial button on a phone. "Give her like fifteen minutes. She'll see you then."

You and Scarlett wait around, all the conversation having died off at this point. She keeps fidgeting with her hands while rubbing her thighs together. Maybe she has to pee or something?

"She'll see you now." the receptionist says, picking up his jacket so he can go home.

Everyone has seemed to have left already as the two of you walk through the building. You knock on the door and get invited in.

"So, what can I do for you?" she says, her cool business-like facade starting to crack.

She's seriously pissed. Must be salaried or something. You explain the circumstances up to this point.

"That's strange, I'll look over the records," she says while typing away at her computer. "Apparently this has happened at least a few times before. It's the first time I've ever seen something like this, though. I'm going to check your records," she explains, seeming genuinely interested in your case at this point.

"No mistakes here, everything's signed off. Wow, that's the highest number I've ever seen before! Your genetic compatibility score that is." She spins around the monitor so the both of you can look at it. "I'm going to run this up the chain, just in case." She starts to make calls, getting transferred over and over again.

"Well, looks like there's no mistake here. I even talked to one of the big-shot science eggheads. Looks like you're married now. Congratulations! I'll walk you two out so I can finally lock up."

She practically pushes you and your sister out of the front door. The two of you loiter around the steps to the building.

"Hey, Anon? I guess you'll be moving in with me. We can get your stuff tomorrow..." she says while avoiding your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess we will," you say, digesting the situation. The two of you walk out to her car and leave the parking lot silently. "I guess it might be fun to live together. We'll be like roommates," you say.

"Haha, yeah. Roommates..." she says in an almost imperceptibly sad voice. She must be feeling worried about the situation too.

The two of you arrive at her apartment. "Here we are, home sweet home," she says while trying to spin around with her arms around.

"Try" is the keyword here. This room is absolutely dire. How do you even fit this many easels in what's essentially two walk-in closets stuck together? The single window has a half-painted cityscape next to it. The window is so small that it looks like it belongs in a prison.

"How do you, y'know, walk in here?" you say while trying not to knock anything over. She completely ignores your question. You manage to sit down on the loveseat without causing any destruction.

"Hungry?" Scarlett asks as she saunters over to the smallest fridge/freezer combos that you've ever seen. You can see from behind her that there's only some milk, ketchup, beer, and some Chinese leftovers. "Let's order some pizza," she says with a sheepish expression.

A few questions and some taps on her smartphone later, she finishes the order.

"I'm going to go get changed," she says.

She steps into the bedroom door in front of you and starts taking off her sweater. It's tucked into her mom jeans for that classic art hoe look. She's wearing a baggy black tank top, and she starts to shimmy off her pants and you watch her fluffy tail wag back and forth. She throws on a pair of bike shorts and sits next to you on the seat. It's so cramped that you have to throw your leg over hers, sitting halfway on her lap. Her fur always felt nice on your bare skin. You tell yourself that it's not weird and that it's just platonic physical intimacy. She's not acting like it's a big deal as well.

"So, what do you want to do? Movie?" she asks.

"That sounds good." She pulls up something on Netflix, as the two of you relax after the painfully long day.

You feel a bit disappointed as she peels her fuzzy thighs from underneath you to go grab the pizza. You start eating the pizza, and she got a meat lover's unsurprisingly. She is a cheetah, and that's what she always got when you were younger. After a few slices of pizza, you stop paying attention to the movie and talk to her.

"We should have a housewarming party for the two of us. We've never gotten to drink together ever since I'm of legal age." She gives you a strange look.

"You're legal now..." she whispers to herself.

Man, she must be really excited to drink with you!

"Okay, let me look around to see what we have. Do you like beer or liquor?" she says as she bends over to look in a cabinet in the kitchen.

"I think I'll have to go with liquor. We are celebrating, after all," you say.

"Don't get too drunk now, or I'll have to carry you to bed." She shoots you a salacious grin.

You must be imagining things. She brings out two glasses, some sugar cubes, and a weird fork? Spoon?

"It's absinthe."

Of course, she'd drink something like that. She's probably going to talk about how great artists or something liked to drink it. You think it just makes her look like some kind of hipster. She begins to pour water over a sugar cube, and it starts to change colors. That's kind of cool, you guess.

"Cheers!" You clink your glasses together. The two of you are ignoring the movie as you start chatting. The alcohol starts to grease the conversation.

"So, you're still doing the art thing, huh? It looks great, even better than before. Are you okay on money though?" you say.

"Good enough. What have you been doing?" You recount the long list of jobs that you've worked. "Mmn. And what do you want to do?" she asks while pouring herself another drink.

You reply that you've not really thought about it.

"That's okay. You've got time to find out. You can quit those part-time jobs though. You can be my house-husband. God knows I need the help."

And here you thought she was all non-traditional.

"Having free time might be nice. I'll warn you, I'm terrible at all of the housekeeping stuff though," you note. "I'll just have to teach you then. It'll be fun."

You look at her glass and see that she's put another down. You're not sure if she's a lightweight or anything.

She's started leaning on you a bit. The fluff on her chest is starting to tickle a bit. You hear her start purring as she rubs her cheek against yours. She stopped doing that years ago, around when she got around puberty. Apparently, it's a feline thing to mark her territory? It feels nice though, so you're not going to stop her. You're feeling a bit mischievous yourself. She doesn't notice you when you lift your hands and stick out your pointer fingers. You decide to attack and start poking her on the spots dotting her thighs.

"Ha ha! Quit it, that tickles!"

She brings her legs up and grabs you, pressing you into her chest. You breathe in and you finally notice it. She smells strong.

"Goddamn. You need a shower. You've got cat stink all over you!" you say, a bit muffled by her chest fluff.

"Cat stink? What does that even mean?!" She starts to grind your face into her chest. You're practically motorboating her.

"There we go. Now you have my cat stink all over you." The both of you start laughing as she sits back up, and wraps her arm around you. "You're just too cute," she practically growls.

Her paw starts to drift from your neck to your shoulder, then the side of your midsection. Her dull claws drag along you the whole way. You lean into her hug. It's been so long since you've shared some skinship with her.

"You've been a little too mean to me today. Messing with my spots, calling me smelly. Do you want me to scratch you?" She's got a predatory smile on her face.

Her hand drifts down to your thigh and she runs her claws along your thigh. It's not like they're sharp at all since cheetahs have non-retractable claws. She probably has them running all over a canvas all day, too. They've been painted a deep purple, looking like amethyst jewels shining in the dim light.

"What are you-" you ask.

Her fingertips start moving to the inside of your thigh.

"I'm just playing a trick on you. Teasing you."

Your body starts to react. This is your sister! You start to feel ashamed when she's just messing with you. "Even if you ask me to stop, I won't."

Her face draws closer to your ear. "I'll tease you until I want to stop. But it's always been like this anyways," she whispers directly in your ear in a sultry voice.

You can smell the herbal odor of absinthe in her breath. Looking down at your crotch, she says "I can see it, you know."

Oh god, you've turned into a disgusting pervert who gets a boner from his sister. You just want to die right now.

"The only difference now is that I think you want me to keep teasing you." She's definitely going to start laughing at you any minute.

To your surprise, she reaches even further and starts to rub your crotch through your pants.

"This is going too far for a joke," you say.

She looks at you incredulously. "Just shut up, you idiot," she says with a sigh.

She takes her free hand and starts to unzip your zipper. With her long arm wrapped around you, she fishes your erection free from your pants.

"Look at you. So cute." She starts to stroke her fist up and down on your dick, cooing at you softly. "You like it when your sister touches your cock?" A shiver runs down your spine at her words.

"Say it. Or else I'll stop," she warns.

You can't resist her words. "I like it," you manage to gasp out.

She suddenly pulls her hand away. "You didn't say it the right way, little brother." she says with a cruel expression on her face.

"I-I like it when my sister touches my cock." you say embarrassed beyond belief. You cover your face with your hands.

"That's no good. Show me your face. I want to see it, and I want you to watch it the whole time," she says with a breathy whisper.

You're too embarrassed to comply, so she takes her free arm and starts pulling them down. Her grip is rough with her claws digging in just a bit too hard. When she finally gets you to release your face, she locks fingers with you gently.

"Good boy." Now satisfied, she starts to pump your dick again. "Tell me it feels good," her voice growing a little louder.

"It feels r-really good."

She smiles evilly at you. "I didn't say that much." She continues: "Tell me what you like about your sister's paws." Your resistance finally starts to break down.

"I like my sister's paw pads. They're so soft and smooth." She gets a smug grin as she starts rubbing one of them against the head of your penis.

"I know. You always wanted to touch and squeeze at them when we were kids. Did you start looking at them that way now? Or were you always a pervert?" She's lovingly running her fingertips along your length, painfully softly.

"Aren't you the pervert here?" you retort.

Uh oh, she looks seriously pissed.

"You always had a smart mouth, too." Her grip squeezes at your member painfully. "I'll train you to speak when spoken to. Now apologize," she says with a tinge of malice.

"I'm sorry," you genuinely say.

"Sorry for what?" she says, her voice softening.

"I'm sorry that I'm a smartass." She does a spit take.

"Pfft! What the hell? You always manage to make me laugh," releasing a chuckle. She shifts her tone as she starts to nip at your ear. You flinch a bit, feeling her sharp teeth dig into the soft cartilage a bit.

"You taste so good. I just want to eat you up," she says, now licking your ear to get the tiny blood spots. "I couldn't help myself. You make such cute noises. I'll make it up to you by doing something nice," she says sweetly.

She dips her head down, right above your dick. She opens her mouth, her tongue only about an inch to the top. She lets her warm drool drip from her open maw all over your cock.

"Did you think I was going to lick it?" she taunts cruelly. Her now slick paw starts stroking you again. She pulls her head back to your neck, her rough tongue dragging along your jawline. You start to tremble from all the stimulation.

"God, you're so cute. Don't worry, I'll be nice," she says as she gives you a kiss right below your ear. "Your sister's making you feel so good. Aren't you glad?" she teases.

The slippery smoothness of her paws make your writhe under her. "Do you like my spit that much? I'll give you more."

Her hand pulls your face upwards to hers. It's a bit uncomfortable to crane your head up so high, but she holds you tightly in place. She then kisses you deeply, her sandpapery tongue dancing against yours. She pulls her face from yours, a string of saliva hanging between both of your tongues.

"Did you like that? Did it taste good? Your big sister will be giving you a lot more from now on," she says with a big smirk.

She gives you tender kisses over and over again as she speeds up her paw movements. Pulling away, she looks into your eyes right when you're about to cum. She realizes this and suddenly grips you tightly at the base.

"Nuh uh. I've been wanting to do this for sooo long. You made me wait and wait. So I want to make up for lost time." for the first time tonight, you see a little desperation in her eyes. She's not weak though. Her conviction to show all her love for you is immeasurable. It takes what feels like hours, but probably less than a minute to calm down again.

"There we go. All better now," she coos.

"Time to start again." She strokes you up and down. "Do you like it fast? Or do you like it slow? Tell your sister what you like," she asks.

"Slow, please," you manage to choke out.

"Hmmm? So polite now," she ponders. "And why would you like that?" she asks, her eyes looking at you hungrily.

"I like your paw pads. I get to feel how soft they are," you admit.

"Looks like someone has a fetish...but I don't mind. It's just another part of you that makes you so cute," she smiles. She's pumping on your dick so slowly that you feel like you're going to go crazy. Every stroke seems to last an eternity as she stares deeply into your eyes. You feel your climax building. "So fast again? Even though your sister's being so gentle?" she asks slyly.

"You have to do something for me first. Make me a promise," she asks forcefully.

"Anything, anything!" you gasp out. Her hand stops moving again.

"You have to take this seriously," she's stern in her words. "I've always protected you. I want you to know that I always want you to be happy." Her tone is dead serious. You feel a bit guilty now.

"I know. You've been the best someone could hope for, my entire life," you admit, pouring out your heart to her.

Her eyes are smiling softly as she looks at you. "That's what I always wanted to be. Now promise me. You're going to do what I say. You're mine now. So be good and listen to me because it's what's best for you." Her voice is so soft despite her firm words.

"I will. Forever." She then looks down at your cock again, releasing it.

"Wait, what?" You almost shout out.

"You like these paw pads so much, right? I'm going to let you cum all over them." She takes her paw and grabs your shaft to milk you, while she rubs her soft palm all over the head.

"C'mon. You're such a good boy, so I have to spoil you a bit." It only takes moments to cum, shooting it over and over again into her outstretched paw. Her mouth is open in shock, smiling at the amount you're cumming. Her hand pumps at you slowly until every drop comes out. "That's too much. You love your sister that much?" she asks in surprise.

"Of course I do. I never knew how much," you admit.

She has a loving smile on her face until she gives you a raunchy grin. "Mmmm." She lifts her paw to her mouth and dutifully laps it all off. "You made too much of a mess. But I'll clean it up for you. It's what a big sister is for." She looks down at your spent body. "Jeez, you got it all over your pants too. That's going to be a looong walk of shame to your apartment," she jokes. You sigh thinking about it.

"C'mon. Let's go to bed." Scarlett presents a paw to you.

"I thought you said that you were going to carry me to bed?" you say. She lifts you up into her arms and puts you into a bridal carry. "Not like that! It's kind of embarrassing..." you mutter.

"Too late now!" she says as she throws you onto the bed. You bounce a bit before she jumps on too.

"Man, this is kinda cramped," you note. "A twin sized bed? Really?" At least it's an anthro sized twin.

"Quit complaining. That's what you get for being stuck with me." She pulls you into her arms and buries your face into her chest.

"Seriously, you do smell though. You're not a bachelorette anymore," you half-joke.

"It's not good for your fur to shampoo it too much."

You give her a questioning look. "What do you mean by 'too much?' How long has it been? Like three days?" you start accusing her.

"Umm...more like a week...?" She may be your sister, but she's a work in progress, for sure.

The two of you cuddle up and you enjoy the sensation of her fluffy fur enveloping you. "Mmmmn. I missed it. Humans always have such smooth, soft skin," she says as she nuzzles against you.

"Hey Scarlett? Can I ask you a question?" She looks up inquisitively. "How long?" you ask.

"Are you starting on that shower thing again?" she says grumpily.

"No, not that. When we were doing that, you said you always wanted to do this. How long?" you ask.

She looks down a little sadly. "A lot of years now. I always thought you were adorable, but when you hit high school, I started looking at you differently. I kind of wish I was a year younger. We would have at least a year together in high school."

You declare "When I was fifteen? I was such a little shithead then. Angry, rebellious, and full of hormones. You had bad taste back then."

"I thought it was kind of cute, but when you got older and older it started hurting more. That's why I moved out right before you graduated. And that's why I decided to join the assignment pool. If I had someone else, I thought I would've been able to forget about you. That's why I barely came to family reunions and stuff too." She's really worked herself into a depression.

"I'm sorry. I should've noticed at some point," you apologize.

She perks up a bit. "That's okay. All my dreams came true. I have you now." She then pulls you even closer to her chest. The sound of her heartbeat lulls you to sleep.

Chapter 2 Chapter Text

Your dreams are mostly formless, but a single one stands out from the rest. It's not a dream, more of a memory. There's a small creek running through a wooded area. The "forest" is nothing more than a few hundred feet patch of woods. You did live in the city, after all. You've got waders on as you stomp around in the slowly and gently moving water that's about a foot and a half deep. You're still pretty small, but there's no chance that it'll wash you away. A much younger Scarlett's yelling at you while running excitedly.

"I got it! I got it!"

She's running with an empty gallon milk jug.

You awake gently, still trapped in Scarlett's bear hug. You manage to reach out to the bedside table with your fingertips and drop your phone into your outstretched hand. Twelve o' clock? Wow, you've woken up really late! It's a good thing guys get paid assignment leave for a whole month after marriage. Just another benefit of the State. Your next goal is to escape her arms. It's easier said than done, with how much stronger and longer arms her arms are compared to yours. You're no slouch from all the various manual labor that you've done, but pretty much any human can't keep up with an anthro. A human bodybuilder could maybe overpower some lanky office worker that's dead inside. All you can do is try to worm out of her arms.

It takes a whole minute to make your way to freedom, as she started to hold you tighter and tighter as you slipped away from her. She's got a look of frustration as you look down at her. You stretch your back and realize your back is really sore. She's sprawled out everywhere, somehow having thrown the sheet almost completely off the bed. You didn't notice much, as her coat kept you very warm. You decide to try and rouse her. You start petting her fluffy shoulder, and her expression changes into a small smile as she purrs in her sleep. She's adorable in her sleep, your heart warming even more than it ever did before. It pains you to have to wake her up in her peaceful state.

"Scarlett, it's time to get up." You start to gently shake her shoulder. There's no response as you notice the pool of drool coming out of her mouth. That's... less cute, but still charming in it's own way. Looks like you'll have to try even harder. "C'mon, get up." You start shaking her even harder.

Her body rocks a bit side to side as she mumbles slightly. "Mmmm... Anon..." She seems to be dreaming about you. It's nice to see that she's even thinking about you in her sleep.

"Scarlett." You say in a normal voice., shaking her even harder. Her head shakes limply back and forth as she barely stirs in the slightest. You have no idea how someone can sleep so deeply.

"Scarlett. Seriously." You've raised your voice pretty loud, and all you get is her eyebrows almost imperceptibly crinkling, and her tail twitching lightly in irritation. Aren't anthros supposed to have good hearing? This is hopeless. The only way she would maybe wake up would be to roll her off the bed. All you can do is sigh loudly, and start for the kitchen. Maybe she'll be able to smell the food and wake up.

You get into the kitchen and find that, yes, there's still nothing in the fridge. You look over the kitchen and notice that she at least has an oven and stove top. The sink is a mess though. Her few dishes are "soaking" in the sink, and have been for god knows how long. There's a single pot and pan each. You get through the grimy dishes rather quickly and peek back into the bedroom to see if she's woken up yet. She's wrapped her arms around her tail and is snoring softly. You guess the next order of business is to go grocery shopping. Luckily the store is only a short walk away. Living this deep in the city has its benefits. As you walk through the aisles, you realize that you have no idea how to really cook anything at all for breakfast. Eggs and bacon can't be that hard, right? You pick up a carton of eggs and a pound of bacon, planning to do more shopping at a later point in time. Maybe the two of you could go together next time? You arrive home carrying your bags and let yourself back into the apartment. The house is still silent, so you start cooking. After you start cracking eggs into the cold pan, you hear her get up and take some steps to the bathroom. A bit later, and there's a flush before she lays down on the bed again.

"Scarlett?" You always knew she was a heavy sleeper before, but it's almost two in the afternoon. She seems to have picked up a lot of bad habits since leaving the house. She leaves you in silence for a minute or two, so you mention that you're cooking breakfast.

Man, these eggs are cooking very slowly. And why are they sticking all over the pan? You plate them out after scraping whatever you can off of the pan. This is the only frying pan she has, so it'll probably be okay to cook the bacon on top of the crusty stuff, you think. The bacon gets warmer as smoke starts to come off the pan. That's fine, it'll all burn away on its own. Just as the edges of the bacon start curling, the smoke alarm goes off.

"Ughh. What the hell?" Scarlett comes out of the bedroom groggily.

"I got it! Just a little cooking smoke," you say, as you run the smoking pan and bacon under water. Scarlett hasn't really grasped the situation yet as she just reaches up to the smoke detector with her long arms and resets it. She starts fiddling with a coffee maker, her only tabletop appliance.

"Hey Scarlett, I made us some breakfast," you mention.

She gets a light smile on her face. "Thanks, I'm looking forward to it." You pat down the soaked bacon slices with paper towels and put their limp forms on the plate next to the now very cold, burnt eggs. You set them down on a tiny coffee table in front of the couch that seems to function as her dining table. She sits down next to you and passes you your own mug of coffee.

"Here you go." She manages not to flinch looking down at the plate, then tentatively takes a few bites. "How is it...?" you ask pessimistically.

"The eggs are... done. And bacon is... good," she says. You note that she didn't say that the bacon was good, just that bacon is generally good.

You take a bite and struggle to keep it down. "Oh hell, what did I even do to this poor food?" you ask rhetorically.

"It's not that bad. I'll eat anything you cook," Scarlett says as she scarfs down the rest of her food fast enough so that she can't taste it.

"I've never cooked anything that doesn't come out of a box," you note. "I'll have to pick up a cookbook or something."

Your sister still smiles. "I think I could teach you. The visual arts aren't the only arts I practice," she says. That's not too surprising. She always was good with most creative skills.

"It's not like I don't believe you, but you didn't seem the type. An empty fridge doesn't inspire the most confidence."

She gives you a look of mock offense. "I just get lazy. Art is more than a full-time job you know. It's a lifestyle." She beams. You pick up the plates and wash them off before sitting back down with her.

"Do you always sleep in so late? I tried to wake you but you were dead asleep. You at least looked like you were having a good dream," you say.

She gets an amused smile on her face as she looks into your eyes. "Yeah, you could say that." You cock an eyebrow at her. It seems she's got her hands on you even in her dreams. "No, no, nothing like that," she says while waving her hands. "Just old memories. You remember that one summer? When we spent every day fishing around in the creek?"

It seems she was having the same dream as you.

"Anon, you didn't lose the bucket, did you?" Scarlett asks.

"I put it over down there," you say as you point to a clean paint bucket sitting on the opposite side of the water.

You take a look at the jug that she's brought along with her and see that there's holes poked in the lid. She pulls a pair of scissors out of her shorts and starts cutting the jug into a makeshift scoop. After discarding the unneeded bits, she dips her paws into the water and shivers a bit from the water's coolness. She starts scanning the water with her eyes as she gingerly steps on the pebbles. She notices a dusky red crustacean crawling around, its claws picking at unknown debris. Faxonius rusticus, the rusty crayfish.

"There's one! There's one!" She excitedly points. She gently dips the scoop behind the creature. "Crawdads swim backwards. You gotta poke it to scare it into the trap," she explains.

It darts backwards directly into the waiting scoop, and she lets a bit of the water drain out before dumping it into your awaiting bucket. The two of you take turns catching them, losing an untold number of them in botched attempts. By the time it starts to get dark, there's maybe a dozen or so large crayfish in the bucket, angrily swinging their claws to and fro. As you take the short walk down the street to your house, she starts poking and prodding them with her fingers. One of the creatures takes offense to this, and clamps down on her fingertip.

"AaaaaaaAAahhhhh!!!" She swings her arm in a large arc, and the sheer force of her movement sends the crayfish sailing down the street, and you see a little dot hit the pavement hard, about twenty feet away from the two of you. You start laughing harder than you have in a while.

"It didn't hurt, did it?" you ask as you catch your breath.

"No! I'm going to go get him now." She runs down the street in a huff, before returning and dropping the poor creature back in the water.

"Aww, you smashed up his head..." You feel bad for the now lobotomized crayfish stumbling around dizzily in the bucket.

"We'll cook them pretty soon. He'll be fine." It seems she's still holding a bit of a grudge.

After letting them purge in some clean water for an hour or so, your mom helps you boil them and set them on a plate covered in a paper towel. Some melted butter is set aside as the two of you peel the tail meat free from them and eat them.

"Mmmm! These are so good!" exclaims Scarlett.

Your mom looks over and tries one of them, staying silent for a second. "...you guys really want to eat these?" she asks incredulously.

You don't really remember the taste anymore, but it probably was just the spice of the fun you had making them delicious. She got even more serious about catching them as the weeks rolled on, saving her allowance to buy actual traps to drop in the deeper, muddier parts of the stream. You remember zip-tying hot dogs to the inside of the cages and finding swarms of them fighting over the meat inside of them. Some days you'd have what you'd actually have what you could call a real haul, a bucket heavy with at least fifty or so of them. Population control is important after all. The two of you never tried to do anything interesting with them either. Gumbo or something was way beyond both of your culinary skills. You and your sister would spend time peeling and eating them while watching TV together, while your parents would shake their heads in amusement. You'd tell your parents wild stories about how you TOTALLY saw a water moccasin that one time, only for them to laugh and say that they don't live this far north. It's not like you ever saw a single snake besides that one time, but you imagine both of you would still be adamant about it's existence even to this day.

Even with all the catches you made that summer, Scarlett only handled the crunchy critters with tongs after that first incident, though.

You and Scarlett laugh recalling the memories. "We're so lucky we didn't get heavy metal poisoning from eating all those things for an entire summer," you joke.

"Nothing but the freshest, cleanest water back home, right?" she jokes back at you.

You get a sly smile on your face as you decide to tease Scarlett. "So, is my tough big sister still afraid of crawdads? Apex predator, indeed."

Her face grows a blush as she slaps you on the shoulder. "I'm NOT afraid of crawdads! I just don't like it when they pinch you." Her tail flicks back and forth in annoyance as she gives you an angry pout.

"Okay, okay, I believe you," you say. You don't really believe her. "What do you want to do today?" you ask.

"We can go grab whatever we need from your place. Not much will fit here, so we can keep everything in a storage unit until we find... somewhere else to put it," she says. You agree, and the two of you go and grab your meager possessions and place the majority into a rented garage, before bringing the basics to her apartment. It takes you less than an hour to get everything squared away. Her closet is very full now with both of your clothes. A bit tired after all the work, you decide to lounge around the loveseat with Scarlett and relax for a few minutes.

"I don't really feel like going out again," she says. "How about some video games? We haven't done that in forever," she continues.

"Sounds good. I'll just watch you for now," you agree.

She walks over to the television and powers on a rather old looking console, at least a generation old. It seems she doesn't have the spare cash for the newest, sleekest machines. She grabs a controller and pulls you into a hug with one of her arms wrapping around you so she can grip it.

"I haven't touched this thing in a few days. Let's see what we have here," she says as she scrolls through a list of games. She settles on some open-world RPG and starts walking around in the wilderness. You're content to just lean against her enjoying her warmth and you find yourself enjoying her scent, to your surprise. You've been watching her play video games for years and years, starting with you telling her what to do before you even knew how to read. You watch her kill generic skeletons with a sword, generic zombies with a sword, and generic bandits with a sword as you tell her what little lairs to delve into. After a while you start to grow a bit bored and close your eyes for a bit. Hearing that you've quieted down a bit, she looks down at you and notices you.

"You want to play something together?" she asks.

You look up to her. "Sounds good. I'll warn you though, I've gotten better than before," you say.

"We'll just see about that," she says with a look of superiority. She boots up a first-person shooter and starts up a match between the two of you. Partway through the game, she starts swinging her arms against yours, and bumping her shoulder against you.

"Hey, quit it! That's cheating!" you shout between laughter.

She pauses for a minute, looking right into your eyes with a smug expression. "The only reason you're keeping up is because you're screen cheating. Don't lie to me." She's got you dead to rights.

"Yeah, right. I'd be kicking your ass harder if I did," you manage to choke out. Even with your advantage here, you manage to lose by a hair. "You're lucky I was distracted. Rematch?" You've always been a sore loser.

"You'll have to convince me. How about a bet?" she asks with a salacious grin on her face. "The loser has to do whatever the other says. No cheating from either of us." Your pride is on the line here, so you accept.

True to your word, no one ended up cheating. And because of that, it was a total wash. You humiliated yourself out there, and it's probably about to get even more embarrassing.

"Mmmmn! That was easy," she says as she stretches her arms over her head. "Moving all your stuff was harder than I thought. I think I'll be nice to you and give you an easy punishment." She shoots you a triumphant grin.

You watch her as she starts to unlace her anthro shoes fitted over her digitigrade feet. You've seen them a lot, but still don't quite understand how they work. She's wearing some cute pastel colored socks with fishbones on them. She peels them off and you decide to ask her a question.

"I never asked you or mom, but why do you have pink pawpads? Don't cheetahs have all black ones?" She thinks hard for a minute.

"Maybe I got it from dad or something?" That seems to make sense.

"It must be like some recessive allele or something," you note.

"A what?" she inquires. There's a reason mom and dad never even tried to get her to go to college. She's extremely talented, just not in academics.

"You know, like the thing where a kid can have blue eyes even though both parents have brown ones," you answer.

"Oh! The square thing! I don't know how it works in my case, though," she says before continuing. "Do you like black ones more or something?" she asks with a mild look of concern on her face.

"I think they're cute," you admit. "I'm glad I have them if you like them. That's not the only pink part of me that you'll like, though," she says saucily. "Let's go to the bed. We don't have enough space here. My dogs are really barking, and they need a massage. Or would it be cats meowing...?" she trails off a bit after her joke. She leads you by the hand into your shared bedroom before laying you down with your head opposite the headboard.

She lays down and props her legs on top of you, right on top of your chest. You can see them glisten a bit from sweat, then the smell hits you. There's a mild scent of corn chips emanating from her paws, and it's not at all unpleasant. If anything, you find yourself growing a little excited.

Is this your life now? Discovering weird new fetishes through your sister?

"What are you spacing out for?" she teases, before thrusting one of her paws squarely on your face.

This is really a problem. It's downright delectable to have her pressed up against your face like this. You take several deep inhales of her odor before she takes notice.

"Oh, are you okay? I was just trying to mess with you..." she says as she pulls her feet away from your face. One of her legs bump into your straining erection before she realizes what's happening.

"Looks like you're more than okay..." She starts to get a sadistic grin on her face. "You really like paws don't you?" she says as she puts one of them in front of your face. "What do you want to do to them?" Her toes spread to show you the fluff between them. She knows you can't lie to her.

"I want to sniff them," you say in an almost whisper.

"Hmmm? Speak up," she taunts. You say it again even louder and that seems to satisfy her. "You kept on making such a big stink about my smell. Were you just trying to cover up the fact that it turned you on?" she asks pointedly.

"No? I don't think so? It's not like I've ever had any experience with this before. Maybe... it's just because it's you?" Your face flushes a bit at the admission.

She brings her hands up to her cheeks. "That's too cute. Here you go. Smell it all you like," she says as she presses her foot back down on your nose.

You feel the light moistness of her sweat press against you as you practically huff her aroma. She looks on at you with a pleased expression, giggling every once in a while at your earnestness.

"There we go. Let your big sister spoil you a bit," she titters. Your head gets cloudy as you get even more aroused, burying your nose into the center of her paw. Her fur gets even more damp as your breath condenses in it. She starts to bat at your hands gripping her footpaw using her free one.

"C'mon, quit being so greedy. This is supposed to be a punishment, right? Massage this one," she says as you grab her other paw. She lets out satisfied purrs as you knead at the center pad, breathing in her scent all the while. It's permeating almost all your being as you focus completely on both of her paws. Her soft flesh feels springy as you press your thumbs into it, studying the textured surface with your fingertips. Her tail rubs and snakes around your forearm as you work.

"Mmmmm, that feels so nice..." At least she seems to be enjoying her massage. You work your way up to her toes and press into the pads on her toes individually, feeling them flex as you ease the tension away in her flesh. One after one, you massage them until you finally bury your fingers into the fuzz between them. You gently rub the flesh, barely applying pressure, but just gently stroking the fur.

"Okay, that's enough. Time to switch," she says. You reluctantly let her remove her paw, but it's soon replaced by a fresh one. This one is a bit more slack from all of your ministrations, but all of the friction has milked a bit more of her natural oils out of her skin. God, you really love the smell of her. Maybe it's just the familiarity or some kind of science to do with pheromones, but either way, it's amazing.

"You really like your sister's smell, don't you? You're just like a kitten cuddling up to a used blanket." As you get partway through the massage on her new paw, she decides to give you a little treat. "You want to do more, right? It's okay, you have permission to give them a kiss," she says sweetly. You part your lips and start to drag your tongue against the center paw pad, causing her to giggle lightly.

"Haha, that tickles!" she says, as she curls her toes against your face. After a few licks, she starts to get used to it, and you continue the massage on her other footpaw. She starts sighing at your ministrations.

"You're good with your hands. I'm going to make you do this more often," she states. You start tickling the tip of your tongue against her toes, savoring the taste of her paws. The smell was one thing, but the flavor is driving you downright wild. You've all but stopped your massage at this point, focusing solely on the paw covering your face.

"I taste that good huh? I can't wait to actually try out that mouth," she says as you suck the sweat from the fuzz at the center. After a few minutes, she pulls it away from your face, a string of saliva connecting it to your mouth. You're reluctant to let it go, but know better than to try and defy her. "You did such a good job. I think you deserve a reward," she says.

"Take off your pants," she orders. You comply, unveiling your painfully erect cock to her. She gets a slightly sadistic smile as she eyes your erection. "You poor thing. You look like you're about to pop. Tell your sister that you want her to take care of it for you," she says. Her toes spread and you can see webs of spit drawn between them.

"Please..." you choke out.

"And how am I supposed to do that? You have to tell me what you want clearly," she teases. It seems she still enjoys bullying you even to this day, just in a new exciting way.

"I want my sister to step on my cock," you manage to say.

"Good boy." She drops her wet paw down on your crotch and presses it against your stomach. She starts grinding it agonizingly slowly along your length, gauging your reaction with a bemused smirk. You can see her painted nails gleam in the light. "Too hard?" she asks.

"No..." you say.

Upon hearing that she presses down harder, just on the cusp of discomfort. You can feel every individual paw pad drag over your sensitive skin. It's a bit rougher than the ones on her hands, but it's still pleasantly squishy.

"Does that feel good? You have to tell me if it does," she commands.

"It feels good!" you say through gritted teeth. Her slick paws are almost torture as she hums away, rubbing you all the while. All the attention you were giving her paws before already had you close to the edge, but the stimulation threatens to bring you to climax. It seems she's noticed this as well.

"Do you want to cum? I know this is a reward, but you still have to ask politely," she chides.

"Please let me cum!" you sputter.

"Such a good listener. Okay. Cum all over your sister's paws." She cups the head of your penis with her toes. With her words, you can't hold back any longer and unleash a torrent of sperm directly into the center of her paw. As you cum over and over again, you can see rivulets of seed gush from between her toes. After what seems like an hour, you're spent, and she pulls away to show you your work. The fur between her toes is completely matted, with drops of cum starting to trail down her leg.

"Jeez, you got me all sticky. I'll clean it up for you," she says as she starts to lap away at your spilled seed. You can see her feline tongue dart in between her toes to catch every last drop.

"You got it all over you too," she points out. You look down and you've made a mess all over your stomach. "There should be a hand towel in the bathroom you can use."

You go into the bathroom and rinse yourself off, before patting yourself dry. When you get back in the room, you see that Scarlett has her leg lifted above her head, running her tongue along her thigh as she grooms herself. Her bike shorts have a damp spot bleeding through.

"See something you like? You've just got no patience," she teases. She takes a bit more time to finish grooming herself, before she stands up and struts around a bit. "I have to say, that was pretty fun though. I'm not sure if it's my thing, but it was too cute to see you enjoy yourself so much. Looks like I've got another treat to keep you nice and obedient," she smugly states.

"I swear you're just a bad influence on me or something. I feel like you've corrupted my innocent soul," you joke.

Her eyes dilate as she draws her face closer to yours. "Your big sister isn't going to stop until she's stolen all your innocence," she whispers at you sinisterly.

She then spins around on her heels and starts back to the living room before flopping down on the couch, patting the seat next to her. "Hungry? I think we should order out again. What do you want?" she calls over to you. You take a seat next to her.

"Chinese?" you say.

"Oh, I know the best place. You're going to love it. Better than the place back home," she says before placing an order on her smartphone. She pulls you into her chest and she hooks her chin over your head as the two of you cuddle and wait for the food to arrive.

Chapter 3 Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Her phone buzzes after about thirty minutes. It was nice to have her embrace you, but unfortunately it seems that you have to peel your bodies apart from another.

"Ntuthuko has arrived with your order." You see as you look down at her phone. The little profile picture is a grumpy looking lioness.

"Can you go get that? I'll get something started up on the television," she asks.

You grab the neatly bagged food, still steaming, in front of the door to the apartment. You walk in and place it on the counter top, unpacking all the food and separating the different dishes. It's really hard to carry all these little boxes and plastic containers. You place them on the tiny coffee table, and look over at Scarlett. She pats her lap and shoots you a soft smile.

"C'mere. I guarantee that I'm more comfortable than this crappy sofa," she assures you.

You oblige, and take a seat on her thighs before reaching forward to open the containers and take bites of the lo mein, alternating between some saucy fried chicken dish. Orange chicken? Or is it General Tso's? It doesn't really matter to you, it's delicious nonetheless. She really did find a little gem of a restaurant.

"You weren't kidding about this place. It definitely beats The Wok Spot back home." You chuckle a bit at the stupid name the owners came up with.

"I told you! I know all the best spots in this city," she says, proud of herself.

The movie is a bombastic action flick. Those always were her favorite. The sound of flesh impacting with flesh and gunshots echo through the tiny apartment. Hopefully the walls are thicker than they appear. These kinds of movies were always her favorite. The two of you would always cheer on the good guys, imitating the heroes until it was time for bed. Untold numbers of Nerf darts completely disappeared to god knows where in your house.

It's nice to see her taste hasn't changed. You don't know if you could stand some art house film that's trying too hard to be intellectual. As you look on at the screen, you see a grizzled German Shepherd pull an entirely too large revolver from her trench coat and start blasting away at dozens of anthros in ski masks and black turtlenecks. You're no gun nut, but you don't think that kind of gun can hold that many bullets. The enemies fall to the ground, still firing submachine guns as they fall on their backs. The protagonist growls out cheesy one-liners the whole time.

You hear Scarlett hum as if she's thinking really hard about something. Her fork stabs into the chicken and she presents it in front of your mouth.

"Say aaaah," she says as her eyes peer down at you.

It's a little embarrassing, but you open your mouth and let her feed you. You start to space out a bit as you gradually get used to it. Eventually she twirls some of the noodles around her utensil and tries to guide it to your mouth. One of the noodles dangling slaps you in the cheek, depositing its greasy sauce on your cheek.

"I don't think this is going to work very well," you note.

She cranes her head down and her feline tongue laps at your cheek until it's all clean. She then continues to feed you wordlessly. Eventually you eat until you're full, and you hop off her lap to place the leftovers into the fridge. You sit yourself back on her legs, and she hooks her chin around your shoulder. She rubs her fluffy cheeks against your own, closing her eyes in pleasure. It seems she really wants to bathe you in her scent. You lean your head back, letting her breasts cushion your head. You correct yourself as you note that she has a relatively small pair. It still feels nice as you hear her purrs vibrate against your head. The volume of the fluffy tuft of fur makes up for it too.

The two of you just enjoy each other's company until you hear the loud blaring of the credits sequence. Then the TV silences itself before Scarlett asks you a question.

"Think it's time for bed? I'd like to get to sleep after we cuddle a bit more. There's a lot more room there," she says invitingly.

"That sounds nice," you say as she gently leads you to the bedroom.

You strip down to your underwear as you pull the covers over yourself. It's very dark in there, blackout curtains over the window, probably to allow her to sleep in even during the daytime. You can just barely make out her silhouette as you see her lift something above her head, then bend over as she steps out of her bottoms. You wonder what she's planning as she lifts the covers and joins you.

"Hey, are you trying to...?" you ask.

"I just want to be closer to you," she says gently.

You feel her bare body press against you as her arms wrap around you, cradling your head into her chest. Even with all the skin contact, the embrace is completely chaste. Her tongue combs through your hair as she lovingly grooms you. It feels a bit strange, since you haven't charred this kind of intimacy in over a decade. Her scent and the soft strokes of her tongue eventually lull you to sleep.

Scarlett awakes before you. Of course you don't notice, as you're fast asleep. She pulls her arms away from you, and stares at the ceiling as tiny beams of light bleed around the borders of the blackout curtain. It still feels like a dream to her, no matter how real it may be. She's not sure if she could handle it if she lost you. As she looks at the popcorn texture of the ceiling, trying to find patterns and shapes, her mind drifts to her past.

Anon arrives home.

He's just started high school, and he's deep in his rebellious phase. Scarlett would find it really cute if he wasn't so distant from the whole family. Hopefully it's just a phase! Scarlett had a rebellious phase too, but it was more directed towards school and society as a whole. She looks back at her goth phase and cringes. She'll never write poetry again. Throughout all of this, she still kept close to her family, even when they would tease her about her strange new persona. She was way too cool to let it get to her. No matter what, she loves her family, especially Anon. She has to be the best big sister she can, like she always has. Their parents are great, but she has to protect him in the way only a sibling can. She's a mature adult now, so she'll help him grow into the great young man that she knows he is.

"Hi son," his dad says as he rubs some seasoning on a chicken. "Want to help me with dinner?"

Anon storms through the kitchen, completely ignoring his dad's greeting. He's so angry! He tells himself that he hates school and hates his family. His friends are pretty cool though. He's thrived socially, even with his awkwardness.

Scarlett hears him stomp up the stairs, and she leaves her room to greet him and get some quality time together. His homework can wait, this time is more valuable. You're stuck with your family forever, after all. At least Anon will actually speak with her, compared to their parents.

"Hey Anon!" she greets him cheerily. "How was school?"

Anon rolls his eyes and answers. "Shitty, as usual."

"Yeah, it always is," she says sympathetically. Her grades started slipping from a pretty young age.

"Let's have some fun to get your mind off of it. I just bought a new game, want to try it? It even has co-op," she chirps.

"Eh, I'd rather not..." he says dismissively.

Scarlett's ears pin down on her head. "That's alright, we can play this weekend or something," she continues. "Can you look at my new piece I painted? I've gotten better, but you've always been good at critiquing me," she asks.

"I'm busy," he says.

"You can wait a bit to work on homework. We can hang out, and then I can help you afterwards," she offers.

"You? Help me with homework? You're kind of dumb, I think I'll be fine."

That was harsh, even for Anon. "Heh, yeah... Well, I'll leave you alone. I'll see you at dinner," she says as Anon closes his door behind him.

Dejected, Scarlett walks down the stairs to the kitchen. He's been acting like this more and more frequently. Even for her, it's hard to keep positive from his abuse. Her dad asks her a question.

"Hey Scarlett, you manage to talk to Anon? I know how moody he gets nowadays."

"Yeah. He's not doing too good today," she notes.

"That's a shame. Give him a year or two. He'll get better," he assures her.

"Yeah."

"Keep trying to get through to him. Me and mom can barely get a word out of him. If he didn't talk to you, I'd worry that he went mute!" he jokes.

"I am trying really hard," she says softly.

Her dad frowns, and a long silence draws itself out for an uncomfortably long time.

"Hey Dad?" she asks.

"Yeah?" he responds.

"Why does he hate me?"

Her father grabs her and wordlessly gives her a deep hug.

Dinnertime rolls around after a few hours, and a deliciously crisp chicken with roasted potatoes and vegetables are pulled out of the oven. Anon is nowhere to be seen. Scarlett and her parents eat dinner and make small talk over the meal. It's not too uncomfortable because everyone tries to act like the family meal is normal. They're kind of used to it by now. Scarlett puts the dishes into the dishwasher as her mom pops open a beer to watch the latest football game. There's an extra plate of food neatly arranged.

"Scarlett? Can you bring this to Anon's room?" her dad asks.

"Sure thing," she says.

She walks up the stairs, and knocks on his door with her free hand.

"Anon? I got some dinner saved up for you," she says.

She hears footsteps as he walks up to the door and opens it.

"Thanks," he says, as he closes the door again in her face.

Scarlet's determined to get her old brother back. No matter what it takes.

Anon's about to graduate soon. He's only got a few months to go. It looks like he's got no plans for college. His parents are disappointed beyond belief. He always was rather bright, but completely lacking in common sense. It's almost endearing. A lot of things go completely over his head. He's calmed down a lot too. He's still not too affectionate, though. He's an adult now. Maybe he's convinced that he has to be to cement his independence. Scarlett still springs hugs on him which embarasses him to no end. She has some news to break to him, though.

"Hey Anon, I'm going to be moving out soon. Going to the big city! I have to get my pieces in all the galleries, after all," she says proudly.

"I'm sure you'll do great. I know you can do it," he responds.

He reaches out and gives her a light hug. He must be embarrassed to hug her for real. She thinks it's just too cute.

She can't get one thought out of her mind though.

He's obviously supportive and proud of her.

But will he miss her as much as she will?

The day passes pretty normally, with a nice family dinner. It's the weekend, so Scarlett and Anon decide to spend the night outside and light a nice bonfire. It might be sweltering outside, but it's always beautiful to watch the dancing flames. S'mores always make a nice dessert too. The weather starts to get a little too warm, and the two of them strip off their shirts to enjoy the light breeze. She gets a good look at him, tracing her eyes along his body.

"Hmmm? What're looking at Scarlett? Don't tell me it's a spider or something," he asks.

She gets a wide smile on her face, deciding to let loose a little while she still can.

"Just thinking. You're old enough in my book now. You want a beer? Just don't tell mom or dad," she says.

"Okay, I guess," he answers.

She cracks open a bottle and passes it to him. Anon takes a drink and his face screws up a bit at the taste.

"You'll get used to it," she says. "Think of it as practice for later. That's the only one you're getting tonight though," she adds.

"I think one is enough," he jokes.

The fire gets extinguished eventually, and both of them head to bed.

Well, Anon does at least.

Scarlett flops down on the bed face down, emotionally exhausted. Her room fits her personality well, with paintings and drawings lining the walls. Mostly hers. At this point she only has one easel, an almost finished painting of their childhood home resting on it. She rolls over on her large bed and starts to strip, the house very warm even with the air conditioning. She thinks about Anon shirtless and her mind starts to wander. Her arm starts to snake down her stomach between her thighs. Her pussy is already wet as she probes around her lips with her fingertips.

"Mmmmmn," she lets out a stifled moan as she touches herself.

Her fantasies are rather tame. She imagines Anon by the bonfire, before she straddles him and kisses him deeply. She just wants him to know how much she loves him. She imagines finally confessing her feelings for him, and him accepting them fully.

Her fingers start to move slightly upwards to slowly rub her clit, and she has to cover her mouth to contain her voice. They start to dance against her as she releases muffled noises from her mouth.

"Nnnn..."

In her imagination, she finally pushes him down into the grass, continuing to kiss him passionately. His erection starts to press into her lower body.

Her fingers drift back downward, and she starts to probe her entrance before dipping her fingers in. They curl around inside her to rub against the deepest, most sensitive spot in her body.

"Anon," she thinks. She's silent, unable to bring herself to even say his name out loud when she's doing this.

Her fingers speed up a bit, but still move slowly and deliberately. She's getting close. Her toes start to curl as she finally brings herself to climax.

"...!" She releases a silent scream as she arches her hips up, milking out her orgasm for as long as she can. She finally removes her hand covering her mouth and pants heavily. She withdraws her fingers and looks at the wetness dripping from them.

"When did I get like this?" she thinks.

A few years now, at least.

"Why am I like this?"

Maybe it was desperation? Hurt? Loneliness?

Her fantasies are filled with Anon. She wants him so bad. She even thinks about forcing him sometimes. The guilt is too strong. She could never hurt him, though. She just wants to feel him. It doesn't even have to be in the carnal sense.

She just wants her brother back.

"Why can't I stop doing this?"

Everytime she does this, it hurts more and more. She hates herself for being like this.

"What's wrong with me? Why can't I be normal?"

She shuts off the light, and lies down on her belly.

"Guh..." she chokes and hiccups. This is always how it starts.

"Uhhh..." she releases a whine, before she can't hold it in anymore.

The tears start coming, and she buries her face in her pillow.

She cries herself to sleep like she has night after night.

Scarlett rolls out of the bed, and you stir just a bit. Half asleep, you see she has almost finished dressing as you open your eyes. You sit up as she pulls her tail through a hole in her shorts. They're a nice pastel blue, you note. She's wearing a crop top with some kind of local band's logo on it. From the rough edges of the bottom, you can tell she cut it down with a pair of scissors.

"Did I wake you up?" Scarlett asks.

You yawn a bit. "Not really. It's pretty much around when I normally wake up," you answer.

You use the bathroom first, before she joins you to brush her teeth. Scarlett mumbles something completely unintelligible with her toothbrush in her mouth.

"What?" you ask.

She takes her time to spit out the foam, and continues.

"I'm gonna cook us some breakfast today. Just hang out for a bit while I go shopping for some essentials. I'll be super fast, I promise," she says.

You wanted to say that you'll go with her, but she's already out the door before you can react. Cheetah speed can't be beat. It would have been a nice little outing, but maybe she can show you around the neighborhood later. It's probably for the best that she's going to cook today too. Maybe she'll teach you a bit when she decides to cook something?

You manage to get all the burned egg off of the pan from yesterday and get everything cleaned up so she actually has kitchenware to work with. It doesn't take too much waiting until you hear the jingling of her keys and she pops open the door.

"I'm back," she says, with a few bags in tow.

You watch her unload the groceries, unsure what this mix of ingredients could possibly make.

"Sausage, milk, some biscuit dough... Yep, that's everything," she says as she puts away a few other essentials.

"The milk should be good for some cereal when we feel lazy too. I got your favorite," she says as she lifts a box next to her face and beams. It's a bit strange though. It seems like she's trying too hard to be cheery.

It's a box of Cheerios. You were a very boring child.

"What are you going to make with all this stuff?" you ask.

"A home cooking classic. Biscuits and gravy with eggs. It's easier to make than you think, and it'll help introduce you to some of the basics."

It looks like she does plan to teach you a bit.

"Just watch closely, and maybe you can try cooking something next time," she continues. "With my supervision, of course."

She opens the tube of biscuits with a pop. After a liberal dose of cooking spray, she places them on a baking sheet and into the oven.

"You have to make sure that things are oiled or buttered before you cook them. That goes for almost any dish, except for meats with fat in them already. Some baked goods are easier to just buy instead of make. I'm not gonna bother to teach you how to make biscuits from scratch anytime soon."

You take down some mental notes.

"Sausage gravy is easy. Not too many steps, and it helps you understand the basics of making a sauce," she says.

The ground sausage is placed into the pan to brown. A thick layer of grease pools at the bottom. Once it's fully cooked, she reaches into a cabinet to pull out a canister of flour. Looks like she had more cooking supplies squirreled away than you thought.

"You add some flour now. Just sprinkle it on top and wait for it to stick to the meat and cook just a bit. It's essentially a béchamel sauce, just with raw flour instead of a roux."

"I don't speak French, you know," you inform her.

She shakes her head. "Nevermind that. Now that the flour's cooked a bit, you pour in some milk. Just keep stirring until it starts to thicken up. It'll stick if you leave it alone too long." she says as she starts to crack salt and pepper over the pan.

She remembers something. "Oh! Another thing about flour. It usually needs to cook about ten minutes, or else everything tastes like raw flour. I guarantee you won't like it."

She pulls out the pot, fills it with water, and drops in a splash of vinegar.

"I need to get more frying pans," she mumbles to herself. "We'll have to poach our eggs since the frying pan is full of gravy. I'll try to walk you through it, but it's pretty easy to get an ugly looking egg."

The water starts boiling, then she turns it down to a lower temperature. The eggs are cracked open and dropped directly into the water.

"That's pretty much it," she finishes.

Somehow everything ended up timed to finish within minutes of each other, and she plates up everything for the two of you. Dad always made scrambled eggs for you two, but you find runny eggs are pretty nice too. Scarlett's got a bit of egg yolks on her muzzle though. She's definitely more of a messy eater. Her food ended up delicious, warm and hearty. The two of you eat your food and rinse off the dishes in the sink.

"You weren't kidding about being a good cook. I'll have to try and catch up with you one of these days," you say.

"I'm sure you will," she says softly.

You take a seat on the couch, and she sits next to you. The two of you sit there for a moment just enjoying each other's company. What's strange though, is that normally she'd pull you close, hug you, or at least nuzzle you a bit by now.

"Scarlett? You okay? You've been acting a little bit weird," you ask.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," she replies. She doesn't look too fine, with her ears folded against her head like that.

You look at her and she averts her gaze. "How could I not be worried? You're my wife, y'know," you say matter-of-factly.

She turns to you and her eyes widen in surprise. Her paw covers her mouth as she lets out an almost inaudible gasp.

"That's the first time you've called me that..."

She pulls you into a gentle embrace.

"I love you so much. I always will" she whispers into the top of your head. She gives you soft, tender kisses.

"Me too," you say back to her as you bury your head into her neck.

After a few minutes, she peels herself away and stretches her arms above her head.

"I'm feeling better now. For real this time," she says. "I've got to work on this piece now, unfortunately. Can you put something on the TV? I need the background noise," she requests.

She sits down in front of the cityscape she was painting and puts on a messy smock that she had hanging from another easel. That poor thing must be more paint than fabric at this point. You turn on the television and find a documentary on a streaming service. It should be a nicer, calming noise to help her focus more on her painting.

It's a war documentary. You were never much of a fan of this subject, or history in general, but it manages to keep your attention. You had to study the basics of the war in high school, but it seems they really glossed over the beginning of the Anthro War. Apparently it started as a human conflict called the Second World War, before the anthros started appearing. It's bizarre to see human men as soldiers, fighting and killing like it's normal. The black and white footage definitely highlights how long ago and how many things have changed in little than under a century. It was all worth it if you get to enjoy the peace shared by the world nowadays.

By the time the documentary starts to get to the events that led to the formation of the Anthrostate, your attention has drifted back to Scarlett as you watch her paint. You're pretty happy to live in the State, but the propaganda is a bit much even for you. You watch her as she presses her face against the tiny window to see the cityscape that she's painting, then pulling away to paint the details that she's spotted. It's extremely impressive how she can memorize the landscape from just a quick glance. It's a beautiful nighttime piece, and somehow she can take the noon sun and transform it to a whole different time of day. It seemed like a darker, drearier color when you first saw it, but she paints over the old colors to paint the warm glow of the buildings. Soft orange and yellow lights bleed from windows, and everything looks so much more inviting.

Partway through the painting, the bristles bend and spring back, flicking multicolor paint all over her. She curses and tries to wipe it off her face.

"Hey Scarlett," you say as you approach her to try and wipe some of the paint off of her face. "You gotta wash that off before it dries."

"Ok, I'll get to the shower. Bring some dish soap with you. God, I hate oil paint sometimes," she complains.

You oblige and grab a blue bottle of soap from the kitchen and go meet her in the bathroom. Now that you've gotten a closer look at her, you start to laugh at all the wet paint speckled on her face.

"Haha, you look like a Pollock painting!" you joke.

She doesn't laugh back. In fact, she looks kind of pissed.

"Don't bring up that hack's name in this house again," she says in a huff.

She starts to strip down and you get an eyeful. You avert your gaze, a bit too embarrassed to look at her body. She steps into the shower/bathtub combo and starts the water. You start to walk away before she addresses you.

"What are you doing?" she asks. "Aren't you going to help me get this off? Hop in here," she orders.

You peel off your clothes as well, looking at the ground, before looking up to her, completely nude. It's the first time in years that you've seen her naked, and her curves have definitely become way more defined than you've ever noticed. Her choice of attire doesn't show it off too well. You step in and really realize how cramped this shower is. You've barely got two feet of clearance from her, even with it being an anthro sized one. Your vision is almost entirely obscured by her breasts with your height difference as well. God, they might barely be a handful, but they look so perky and springy, topped with rose colored nipples.

She crouches down so that she's eye level with you. From the corner of your eyes, you see her chest hang freely. "I hate the smell of this stuff. Try and get it done fast," she says.

You squeeze out the tiniest amount of the concentrated soap, and lather your hands together, rubbing it into her cheeks. Colored streaks of paint run down her body into the drain. It only takes a minute or two until her face is paint-free, and she thanks you.

"There we go, all done," she says. She starts to reach for the knob to cut off the water.

She's already in the shower, but she still doesn't want to take one. The whole place is going to reek of wet cat. This cannot stand.

"C'mon, you're already in here. Why don't you freshen up a bit?" you offer.

She thinks about it for a bit before she gets a sly grin on her face.

"I don't think I want to. Not unless you do it for me. You have to do what I say, remember?" she asks coyly.

You've got no choice at this point.

"Get my back first," she says.

You grab the bottle of anthro shampoo, and start to rub it into her fur. It's called "Spots." That's pretty cute. The scent is almost nonexistent, since anthros have such sensitive noses. You start with the scruff of her neck, the thick fur foaming up nicely. She purrs as you rub into her shoulders, applying firm pressure to massage her muscles. She melts under your grip.

"Let me see your arms," you say, as you wash them down a little more quickly than the rest of her body.

Your hands trail back down her back again, as you trace your fingertips down the three black stripes on her spine. She really has a beautiful pattern on her fur.

"Mmm." she lets out a sigh of satisfaction as your palms rub the sides of her waist.

You take her tail in your hands and stroke it along the grain, wetting the voluminous fluff. For some reason, Scarlett chuckles a bit.

"You won't remember this, but you were always glued to my hip when you were really young. I was already way too tall for us to hold hands, so you used to hold on my tail when we walked. I had to walk super slow or you'd fall behind and yank the hell out of it," she says.

"Well, I won't do that anymore," you joke.

"You better not."

You have to crouch down to get to the rest of her body. Somehow you managed to keep your arousal in check, but the sight is just too much with the view you have. Her tail is completely raised so you can see everything. She's got an erotic gap between her shapely thighs, and you can barely see the lips of her pussy from behind. You pause a minute before continuing. In your relationship so far, she's always been the one to touch you. Getting your hands on her is a whole new experience, one you're afraid will escalate things even further.

"Go ahead. I'm not clean yet," she commands.

You sink your hands into her asscheeks and rub the suds into her fur. She's so wonderfully plush in all the right places. You're still rubbing and kneading her gingerly before she decides to interrupt you.

"C'mon. Really get in there."

Your thumbs start to slip between them, and she coos as she feels you contact her asshole. You can feel it contract as your hands brush over it. You can't help yourself and you part her glorious orbs of flesh and get a closer look. Your breath starts to grow heavy as you stare it down. There's a light earthy scent mixed with the smell of her fur. She shivers a bit.

"Your breath tickles. Peep show's over, get back to work on my legs."

It takes both of your hands to wrap your hands around her thighs. Even with that, they still sink into the layer of fat. You dig your thumbs into the center of the back of them, digging into them in slow circles. You can feel the definition of a runner's legs underneath them. Wonderfully soft, with a firm center.

"Ahh... that feels so good. My legs get so sore," she says

"From sitting around all day?" you joke.

"You can be such a smartass sometimes. I might start punishing you if you keep it up."

Is that just a joke? Or a genuine threat? With the way she's got you wrapped around her finger, you worry that you'd like it.

You stand up, satisfied that you've sufficiently cleaned her enough, and rinse the subs off of her back. She looks over her shoulder and gives you a smug grin.

"Okay, time for the front now," she says as she does an exaggerated spin, her tail slapping you in the thigh.

She looks down at your crotch, and gives you a knowing smile.

"You just can't resist your sister, can you?" she says as she traces her fingertip along the top of your cock. Her hand leaves, and she chuckles a bit, beckoning you to continue. Your fingers dive into the fluff of her neck under her jawline, and you can feel her contented purr as you slowly scrub it with your fingertips. She always liked to be pet on the neck. You eventually work your hands down to more dangerous territory. In an attempt to delay the inevitable, you start to scrub the puffy fur sitting on her breastbone.

You pause a moment as your hands hover over her breasts. You can see the whites of her sharp teeth as she looks down and gives you a cheeky grin. She waits expectantly without any words exchanged between the two of you. You work up the courage and cup her tits, the suds making them frictionless as you savor their silky handfeel. Her nipples are already stiff before you even touch them. You can feel them poke out through the gaps of your fingers, as you inadvertently brush them against your hand. They slip a little, and her nipples get caught in a light pinch, causing her to sigh in pleasure. Your thumbs follow the seam between the bottom of her breasts, where they meet her torso. Even with their size, they're heavier than expected.

"Good boy. You're doing so well," she coos.

You work your hands down to her stomach, and even though it looks like there's no definition to it, you realize how powerful the muscles lying underneath the thin layer of fat are. She's got really good genetics to stay in shape this well, considering the absolute lack of exercise she gets. The cream colored fur of her belly is much shorter than the rest of her fur, and the downy sensation feels lovely on your hands. You make a mental note to bury your face into it one day. It would feel amazing.

You crouch back down to get to her legs, and you're met face to face with her pussy. There's a tuft of thicker fur right above it acting as a sort of pubic hair that most anthros have. It looks so soft, and you can imagine your nose buried in it as you lap at her folds. You chastise yourself, as you're not sure if you're ready for something like that yet. So far, the farthest you've gone is just some touching. It's just a bit of experimentation, you think as you lie to yourself. Her pheromones are driving you wild with how close you are. You shake it off, and get back to work on her thighs, enjoying them as much as you did before.

"God, they're so thick..." you mutter, not thinking about what you're saying.

"You like them that much? Tell me what you like about them," she requests.

It looks like she heard you. No turning back now.

"They're so soft, yet so strong. And the shape is perfect too," you admit.

"We'll see about that," she says. "When I wrap them around your face, that is. I'm looking forward to it."

You finish her legs, and you prepare to rinse her off.

"You forgot a spot," she says as she spreads her legs a bit wider.

She's not going to let this shower end without you really getting your hands on her.

The smell of her hits you and makes your head spin. There's a heady musk drifting directly into your nose, and you breathe it in deeply. Her feminine smell completely overwhelms you. Her eyes get an evil glint as she notices your labored breathing. You grip her thighs as you pull closer and closer. Your mouth opens as you approach her, you head just inches away from her. You're so close that your vision is obscured by the off-white fur of running down her belly to her thighs. You practically pant before your sense of reason finally returns to you, and you back your head away from her.

"Aww, you're no fun. I'll get you to come around later. Until then, you've still got a job to do," she says with a tinge of disappointment.

You cup your hand to rub the cleft of her pussy, causing her to release a low moan. You curl your fingers around her loins, softly stroking the exterior. She grabs your head in pleasure, gasping out hot breaths as she starts to pet you lovingly, her fingers running through your hair. You accidentally run your thumb along her clit, causing her dull claws to dig into your scalp. You start to feel her excitement starting to mix with the sudsy soap as your fingers trace between her vulva, almost entering her sopping wet hole. You've never been this hard in your life, and hearing her sweet sounds are almost enough to make you cum. You continue your movements for a minute or so, her voice growing louder. She's steadily working her way to an intense orgasm. To your surprise though, she pushes your hand away before lifting you up into a standing position.

"Ohh, you're good at that. But it looks like you want to cum too, don't you? Cumming with your big sister will feel so good. You want to make her feel good too, right?" she asks.

You're not really sure what she's hinting at, but you still answer her.

"I do," you state.

She gives you a deceptively kind smile. "Good. Because you're going to do it no matter what. You have to take responsibility for how good you made your sister feel."

She picks you up by the shoulders, and pins you against the shower's wall.

"You like my thighs so much. I'll let you enjoy them as much as you want," She's got a hungry expression on her face as she starts to bring her hips closer to yours.

She's holding you at exactly the right height as the head of your penis kisses the gap of her thighs. Slowly and deliberately, she eases it through the gap, pressing her legs together to trap you tightly. She lets out a pleased sigh as she leans her perky breasts against your chest. You can feel her nipple, hard enough to cut diamonds poking you.

"That's sooo nice. You fit perfectly," she moans.

She starts to thrust her hips slowly, prolonging each stroke to savor it as much as possible. The soap lathers up nicely, providing the perfect amount of friction as the soft fur lining her legs strokes your dick. Her pussy is pressed roughly into the top of it, and you can feel the wetness and incredible heat as she slides you against it. Her stiff clit drags along your length with each repetition. She starts to speed up, bringing the both of you closer to climax. You close your eyes and groan from the incredible sensation assaulting you.

"Anon. Look at me. I want us to look at each other when we cum," she commands.

She stares into your eyes lovingly as she goes faster and faster, before taking a few pauses to force deep kisses upon you. Her rough tongue dances around in your mouth, completely overpowering any of your attempts to reciprocate the kiss. She starts to pant as she starts to slam her hips against yours at a rapid pace. Both of you are getting really close.

"Good boy! You're gonna make me cum!" she practically shouts.

The both of you can't hold it any longer and you start to ejaculate. As she shudders and tenses up, your cock gets displaced from its position. It's pointed directly upwards, wedged firmly between her pudgy thighs. You cum over and over again, directly onto her pussy, almost penetrating her as you struggle not to buck your hips forward. Eventually the two of you are spent, and she releases her body to set you down, the both of you exhausted. As you look down at her, you see that you've painted her entire crotch white, with trails of cum dripping down her inner thighs.

"Oh god, that was so good. You did such a good job," she says between pants.

You concur as you take a minute to catch your breath.

"Let's get cleaned up again. I'll take care of myself. You never got to take a shower," she notices.

She rinses her loins off, then does a quick little scrub with some new soap. You wash your body while she does this, and the two of you get close to share the water to wash all the suds off of your bodies. She steps out of the shower and you dry each other off. You plug in her blow dryer and start blasting the heated air into her fur, causing it to puff up even more than usual. The two of you get dressed before retiring to the couch to recuperate.

"Man, if every shower is going to be like that, I might have to do it daily," she says.

"I don't know if we have enough time in the day if we spend that long in there every day. Not to mention all the hot water we used too," you reply.

"I'm a freelancer, remember? I can make time," she jokes. "You might miss my delectable smell, though."

She wraps her arms around your chest and lets out a chuff of happiness before you decide to address what just happened.

"That was a real close one at the end there, though. It almost slipped inside at the end," you say.

"...Yeah. So close..." She has an unreadable expression on her face, almost forlorn.

She must have gotten a little worried about it too.

An alarm goes off on her phone, and she darts up.

"Oh! I forgot about my class! I have to go soon," she says.

"Class? I thought you weren't doing any college or anything," you ask.

"It's at the art center. I have to branch out a bit. Heat transfer vinyl, for T-shirts and stuff. It's big money on Etsy," she explains. "I'll be back in a few hours."

She gives you a kiss on the lips before grabbing a bag.

"Love you, see you later," she says as she walks out the door.

It looks like you've got some free time to burn. But what to do? You're feeling a little cooped up after these few days. Maybe you can manage to do something a little productive outside.

After a quick search on a map app, you find a bookstore near you. A cookbook might be a good idea. You lock up the apartment and start the short walk to a small local bookstore. You walk in, and notice that it's a bit more disorganized than you'd like. You look over the cooking section and have no idea where to start. You wave down an employee to get some help.

"Yes? Need help finding something?" the clerk asks. She's a rather gentle looking alpaca.

"I need a good cookbook for beginners. I'm trying to learn how to cook for my wife, but I'm basically starting from zero," you explain.

"That's so cute," she chirps. "Let me try to find it."

She starts digging around the section, seemingly having trouble finding said book even though she works here.

"There we go! How to Cook Everything. Anything else? I can get you checked out if not," she offers.

You buy the book and walk back home, planning to at least flip through it while you wait for Scarlett to return. Laying down on the couch, you flip through the pages. It covers ideas and simple techniques, with many glossy images illustrating the process easily. You laze around with it before your mind starts to drift.

Your thoughts get interrupted as your phone starts to ring and vibrate. Who could be calling you? It's not like you made a ton of friends after moving out to the big city.

You look down at the caller ID.

Dad

Notes:

Why do >>(You) have to be such a cunt?

Chapter 4 Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

You pick up the phone and pause a few seconds. Should you just ignore the call? He'll just call you again at some point anyways. Hopefully it'll just be a normal call so you don't have to bring up the subject that you're dreading to reveal.

You tap the icon to accept the call. You breath hitches before you hear him answer.

"Anon! Hi son, how are you doing?" he asks cheerfully.

"Good dad. Same as usual," you reply.

"Is the city treating you okay?" he inquires.

"Yeah, it's great. Lots of stuff to do."

"Well, if you get homesick, you can come visit anytime you like. Speaking of visiting..." he starts.

You hold your breath.

"We got the papers in the mail! Why didn't you tell us you got assigned already?" he says in mock upset.

"...Busy with married life and all. It's only been a few days," you say, avoiding the subject.

"How is she? She better be good to my little Anon," he says in a mildly threatening tone.

"She's great dad," you answer, not knowing how much information you should give up.

"While we're at it, we got your sister's papers too! Looks like the dates were the same. That's so cute. Assigned on the same day," he gushes.

This is unavoidable at this point. He's not going to let this go, and he'll only get more pushy. You'll just be talking in circles, and he'll definitely start to get suspicious. It's always been hard to hide things from him, let alone something this big.

"You see... Our assignments are related..." you admit.

"They're related? Like to each other? That's adorable! I can't wait to meet my in-laws," he continues. "When you come by it'll be like a double-date between siblings."

Maybe not so much a double date, but you're not going to correct him.

"I guess the State really wanted to keep it in the family," he jokes. You can practically hear him wink.

Oof. That was a really bad choice of words for what you're about to say.

"So dad..." you start. You can't bring yourself to say the words, and there's a long silence.

"Everything alright, Anon? Is it your wife? You can tell me whatever's going on," he assures you.

"My assignment," you start. "I mean our assignment is..." He waits patiently for you to finish. "The State assigned me to Scarlett."

"Like your sister? That's not funny, Anon. You always had a weird sense of humor, but that's too far," he chastises you. "You always loved those weird 'meme' pictures online. Spending all your time on that little chat website," he mumbles.

He's making this really difficult. The conversation already is uncomfortable enough.

"It's not a joke. I am officially married to her now," you admit.

"That can't be right... Did you guys try to get them to fix it? I mean, she's your sister for god's sake," he says in disbelief.

"We did. Went all the way up to the top. It seems it's final," you state.

"There has to be a way to get it annulled. The only way I can think of is abuse, but she'd never do that to you..." he trails off, thinking really hard.

"Dad," you say calmly.

"Just hold on a second, I'm going to Google it," you hear him fumble with the smartphone.

"Dad," you say a little more forcefully.

"There's got to be a way to get you guys out of this without either of you getting in trouble," he mutters.

"Dad!" you have to shout.

"What is it son? I'm trying to do this for you, you know," he asks, a bit annoyed.

"Just stop for now," you command. "It's- it's not that bad..." you manage to choke out.

There's almost a minute of silence following your taboo admission.

"She's not making you do this, is she? She's a good girl, but you know how anthros can get," he says. "She wouldn't do that. Not her..." he says in a soft, sad voice.

"No dad..." you say. "She wouldn't do anything to hurt me," you reply.

"That's good. Just because you're married, that doesn't mean you have to do anything," he says uncomfortably. "Neither of you. I'm sure you know that."

"I know dad. We're working it out," you state.

"Good," he replies. "Just know that I love you and I'm here for you. The both of you."

You nod and agree.

"Phew, what a heavy talk. I think I need a little break," he says as you hear him sit on a couch. "Before I let you go, tell Scarlett to call me. She never answers, and I miss my daughter."

"I will, love you dad," you say.

"Love you too, son."

Click.

Holy shit, that was a rough conversation. It's going to be just as bad when you have to tell Scarlett about it.

You return to your book and try to read it, but of course you are completely distracted and can't focus on the words. Your mind races as you actually start to process what's been happening these past few days.

Is what you're doing wrong?

The State certainly doesn't think so. It feels pretty nice to be close with your sister again. And the sex? It certainly feels really good, but there's still the part of you that wants to reject it entirely. You could never think of your sister as disgusting or gross, but you can't say the same for yourself. The conversation you had with your dad cemented that feeling. The disbelief, the shock in his voice. He may be one of the most loving and supportive parents out there, but even he couldn't contain himself. If that's the case, what's everyone else going to say? Would you ever be able to tell your friends that you're married to your sister? Co-workers? You dread the thought of explaining that to the rest of your family too.

The door opens and Scarlett walks through, chipper as can be. She's got something behind her back and she walks over to you with a big grin on her face.

"I made something for you," she says.

With a flair, she unveils a T-shirt and waves it in front of your face. Pink? Really? She must be trying to force her fashion sense onto you.

"I cut out the vinyl and pressed it myself. All by hand! I'm pretty good with an X-Acto knife. Electronic cutters are way too expensive," she explains.

It's emblazoned with some text and a shape of some sort. On the item is an image of a heart. The heart menaces with spots of a cheetah. The artwork relates to the marriage of Anon to Scarlett in the spring of 2023. The text around the heart is almost as embarrassing. "I Love My Wife," it reads. All of the design is in neon green. You're legitimately getting eye strain from the blinding colors. Maybe color theory isn't her strong suit. Or maybe she just wants the shirt to be that eye-catching. You'd never be able to avoid looking at it if someone walked by you wearing it.

"Go ahead, try it on!" she chirps.

You take off your shirt and pull the new one over your head. It fits pretty much perfectly. Looks like she already knew your size.

You look down at your new shirt. Do you have the heart to tell her it's horrible?

"Thanks for the shirt, Scarlett," you say.

"It looks great on you! You'll have to wear it when we go out to dinner," she replies.

"Uh, outside?" you ask. It's already cheesy enough, but the visual assault is going to be downright mortifying to walk around in.

"Of course you are. I want everyone to see it. That's an order," she chides.

You change the subject. "So why the colors...?" you ask.

"Because they're exciting!" she proudly states. At least it's not black on yellow. That'd be even tackier.

"Yeah, really exciting. It looks like we have a bit of time before dinner. You want to show me around the area? I don't know where anything is," you say.

"I know all the good spots. Leave it to me to show you all the city has to offer!" she says proudly.

After locking up the apartment, both of you go down several flights of stairs to find yourself in a bustling street. She walks confidently around the street and points out several small shops and stores.

"Don't go to that gyro place, it's absolutely terrible. Even though it's open to three, it's not even worth it when you're drunk," she says, as you walk past a really dingy looking restaurant. "That coffee shop is amazing, and I'm not even saying that because one of my pieces is displayed there. I donated it because I like the place so much," she explains.

It's the weekend, so there's a lot of people walking on the sidewalks. Almost everyone gives you a quick glance due to your clothing. At least no one is staring at you super hard. Except for that wild-eyed hobo with no legs.

"There's the grocery store, it's kind of small, but you can get almost everything you need without having to hop on the metro. There's some more unique ones pretty close too. The Asian grocery and the Halal stores are really fun to go to, even if you have no idea what they're selling," she says.

She points out a few more things, a bar and her favorite art supply store before she stops to show you her favorite place.

"Here's Foxtail Park. It's not super big, but it's kind of a hidden gem. That abstract sculpture over there is my favorite. I don't even know how many times I've sketched it while drawing a landscape," she continues. "I don't think I should show it to you at night though. Even with the streetlights, I'm pretty sure at least one mugging happens almost every week."

That would be a terrible end to your first night out in this part of the city. It would even be worse alone since some creepy anthro would probably flash you or grope you. It's kind of why you avoided this area. You never really ventured downtown even though you've been living here for almost a year. You've been walking for about a mile before she stops in front of a little hole in the wall. It's sign is some esoteric Asian script that's completely foreign to you. There's not a lick of English, and its windows are covered in fliers in the same characters.

"What is this place?" you ask.

"It's called Jumulleok. It means 'sizzling BBQ.' I only went in here the first time because it smelled so good! You can even smell it with your human nose, right?" she inquires.

She's right, you have no idea what it is, but it already has your mouth watering. The two of you walk in, the chime hanging from the door welcoming you in. A lynx walks out from the back and asks Scarlett a question.

"BBQ or table?" she asks, her speech heavily accented.

"Barbecue! It's a celebration," Scarlett exclaims.

The two of you are led to a strange table with some kind of grill in the middle. Scarlett sits directly next to you, her body pressed into you in the booth. There's definitely enough room to get a little more space, but this is pretty nice. The waiter lights the stove and you can see burning charcoal underneath the grate. You look around the restaurant and see a pretty healthy amount of anthros and humans crowded around tables. There's a lot of businesswomen chatting away in a foreign language and getting really drunk. It seems the lynx is also your waitress, and she asks for your drink orders.

"One bottle of soju for the table. A smooth one, please. He's not the best drinker," she says, giving the waitress a wink.

You'd say she's probably pretty bad at drinking too, but you're not going to spoil her mood. Once the alcohol arrives, she orders a literal mountain of meat with strange names, before you're left alone to wait for the food. It gives you some time to chat with Scarlett. She pours the both of you a little shot of the clear liquor, and tells you to drink it down.

"Ahh! That's good," she says after taking the shot.

"So uh, what is this?" you ask.

"Korean BBQ. You get to grill it yourself, so it's fresh. Think of it as cooking practice for you, too," she says.

She pours another shot and gulps it down quickly. She's drinking this stuff pretty fast. The waitress brings out a lot of plates of... Stuff, and you get to try a bunch of different things. Scarlett looks at you lazily with a smile on her face.

"Hehe, I got your first time," she jokes. "I'm so happy we get to try things for the first time together. We'll get to do that together for the rest of our lives, too."

Your order finally arrives and she gets you to start throwing the pieces of meat on the grill. She gives you pointers along the way. It turns out that it's not actually that hard. You like your meat cooked a little more done than hers. She likes it really rare, unsurprisingly. As the two of you spend your time eating the food, she decides to order a second bottle of the alcohol, and she does most of the heavy lifting in drinking it this time. She's definitely getting more uninhibited at this point.

"Here you go, Anon," she says as she starts to feed you little bites of meat with her chopsticks.

You definitely need help operating these utensils, but this is a bit much. Doing this in your home is embarrassing enough, but you're definitely not used to PDAs like this yet. The shirt definitely doesn't make it any better. As you look around, it doesn't seem anyone notices or cares as you flirt in your secluded little table.

"Mmmn, you've gotten so much better at cooking this so fast," she says. "You know I like my meat raw. Especially yours."

Okay, she's definitely drunk at this point. The two of you finish up your food and the bill arrives.

She winces as she sees it. "Ooof... I need to sell those paintings fast. And ask dad to borrow some money," she says.

"You don't need to keep doing this for me. I've got some cash saved up," you admit.

"I'd do anything for my little brother. Just let me spoil you a bit."

You pull your phone out under the table and wire her some money from an app while she's distracted. She probably wouldn't have any of it tonight, but maybe you can convince her to accept the money tomorrow. The two of you start walking back, and she's definitely a little wobbly. She hooks her arm around yours and leans on you for support, so it works out fine in the end. You really hate to spoil the mood, but you have to bring up the call you had earlier. Hopefully the booze softens the blow a little bit.

"Scarlett, I have to talk to you about something important," you say firmly.

She's surprised at your sudden shift in demeanor and starts getting a little worried. "It's not about me, is it?"

"No. I got a call from dad today..."

A sense of relief washes over her for a minute before she returns to her somber mood. "Did you tell him about us? I knew we'd have to eventually, but..."

"He didn't believe me at first, then he freaked out a bit. I had to explain... how I feel," you struggle to get that last part out. It's still so confusing to you. "And he eventually came around, as much as he could. He told me that he wants you to call him. Just a regular call. He misses you, you know."

"Yeah. I will," she says with a tinge of guilt in her voice.

The two of you walk the rest of the way silently before you both stand in the entryway. Scarlett doesn't let go of you though, as she leads you to the couch, laying you down and flopping on top of you. She's really heavy, but it's nothing unbearable.

"Let's just forget all of that tonight. I promise you that everything will work out in the end," she says.

Both of you sit there for a minute while she cradles your body underneath her, before she suddenly sits upright, straddling you. She lifts you up by both of your hands, before walking backwards, pulling you to the bedroom.

"Hey Scarlett?" you ask. "Isn't it kind of early for bed?"

"I know. I'm not tired yet," she says, a predatory look on her face.

She spins you and throws you on the bed before she starts to disrobe.

"Take off your clothes. I need to let off a little steam," she demands.

"O-okay."

She's being pretty aggressive today. She must be really frustrated, in more than one way. Having no choice, you comply. She'd probably rip them off of you at this point.

As you watch her step out of her pants, you find that you've started getting excited. She seems satisfied as she starts to crawl over you, straddling you. She leans down and starts to kiss you hungrily. She holds the kiss for what feels like an eternity. You can taste her saliva mixing with yours as her tongue invades your mouth. You almost feel violated by the intensity of it all. She continues her assault, and you start feeling lightheaded. You can barely get enough air even breathing through your nose. She pulls her muzzle away, and your lips are painted and dripping with her spit. You cough a bit, before she gets a wicked smile, and licks her lips.

"You taste so good. I'm going to put that mouth to use," she growls.

She swings her leg over you, her backside hovering over your chest. Her paws grip your thighs to brace herself.

"Are you ready? Remember to breathe through your nose, You're not getting a break until I cum," she declares.

"This is moving kind of fast, I don't know if we should..." you remark.

She looks back at you with a displeased expression.

"You've already touched my pussy. I saw how you looked at it, you know," she coos.

"That's... kind of different," you say as an excuse.

"You don't have to be so shy. We both know you want to taste it. I've been making you cum again and again. It's only fair to return the favor." she says. "Just let it happen. You promised you'd do whatever I said. I'd be so sad if my little brother was a liar."

God, she's so persuasive. Or is your logic just flawed? Why do you keep trying to draw lines in the sand, when you know it's pointless? Why are you ashamed of yourself, when you really love each other? It may not be the most natural love, but you're afraid to display it. You can't keep doing this. It'd hurt her if you keep acting like this, and you can't imagine anything worse.

"Go ahead then," you say.

She scoots her legs back again, bringing her hips just inches from your face. Your vision is completely obscured from everything besides her pussy. A drop of her arousal lands directly on your face, and you take a sharp breath in surprise.

"That's so impolite. You have to ask for it. Say you want to taste your sister's wet pussy. That you want to feel her soft thighs on your face," she asserts.

She really won't let this thing go. She loves to tease you until you have to beg for it.

"Please sit on my face. I want to taste you and feel your thighs." You oblige her request.

"Good boy. I'll have you trained yet."

She drops down on you, hard. She lets out a throaty moan when she makes contact. Her pussy grinds against your mouth as she repositions herself into a comfortable pose, her fuzzy thighs cradling your face. She leans her body forward, trapping your manhood between her petite breasts. She starts to slowly rock her hips back and forth across your chin and lips. Her smell is overpowering, her feminine musk making you even dizzier as she smothers you with her plushy ass. You note that she just had a shower, and you wonder how she can pour out so many pheromones already. You finally part your lips and start sucking away at her folds and the cleft of her pussy.

"Aaahh," she sighs in satisfaction. "You're a natural already. I think I found where you belong."

"Right under your sister's ass," she growls.

You poke out your tongue and start probing at her gingerly. Her taste is even more intense than her smell. You're practically drinking down her secretions due to the copious amount leaking out of her. You can feel it dripping down your chin and rolling down your cheeks. Scarlett seems to be getting impatient though, and she presses down harder on your mouth to goad you to lick her deeper.

"Mmmph!" You try to speak, but your voice is completely muffled under her backside.

You grip her thighs, fingers digging into the soft fat. If you were able to see anything besides the round curves of her cheeks, you would see her sadistic grin.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. I think I know what you want though," she taunts.

She raises her torso a bit, and strangles your erection with one of her paws. It's being toyed with as she drags the head of it against her tits. You can feel her hard nipples poke and prod at your dick. She starts to speed up her movements on your face as she plays with your cock, flicking it to and fro against her chest. As her moans grow louder, you realize that she's going to climax soon. Her walls quiver and squeeze at your tongue as she tries her best to bury you inside her.

"Your sister is going to cum all over your face. Aren't you glad?"

You can't answer of course, but the sensation of her entire lower body wrapped around your face has you hard as a rock. She squeezes your rod tightly and feels it throb in her hand.

It takes little time for her to cum as she lets out a protracted moan. You feel her thighs wrap around you like a vice. If it wasn't for the extra padding, you'd be afraid that she'd crush your head. Her paw has completely released you as she shudders and shakes on top of you, a final gush of fluid bathing your face.

She takes an entirely too long time to recover as she sits her full weight on you, leaving you out of breath. She eventually pulls her body from yours, sticky webs attaching them to your face.

"Mmmn. That was good. Do you want me to take care of you now?" she asks, her voice breathy and husky.

She lowers her head to peer at you from between her legs, a smug look of superiority plastering her face.

As you pant and wheeze, it takes you a while to respond. "Yes please," you croak.

She starts to pump your cock dry, and she starts swirling the underside of her tongue around the head. Your body tenses up from the stimulation.

"Do you want me to suck it? You want to feel the inside of your sister's mouth?" she asks sweetly.

"I want my sister to suck my cock so bad!" you shout, completely overwhelmed.

"You have to tell me when you're about to cum. I have something nice planned for you."

If you had your wits about you, you'd be pretty wary of her words. She scrapes her rough tongue along the bottom of it, before starting to suckle on the tip. You suck in a breath when she bobs her head down, the warm wetness of her mouth completely enveloping you all the way to the base. The pleasure is almost indescribable as you throw your head back. She releases a messy slurp as she pulls her head back, before dropping her mouth back down agonizingly slow. It's completely removed as she starts to speak again.

"You're going to like my treat. You don't get to cum tonight. You'll only get to cum when I say so," she purrs.

"Wha-?" you say in surprise.

She milks your dick slowly and deliberately as she continues.

"One week. You're all mine so you have to listen to your sister.. Understand? Say you understand," she orders.

"But why...?" you ask, desperately seeking release.

She squeezes you hard like a vice in response. "Don't question me. Do what I say. It's for the best."

"Okay, okay, I understand. Can we stop then please?" you beg in despair.

"No. I'm going to play with you every day. Though I guess I can tell you why. It might make you look forward to it a bit more."

She's really enjoying herself. You find yourself hanging off her words.

"You're gonna hold it all week. Let it build up. The next time that you're going to cum is going to be inside me." she continues. "You're going to fill me up with kittens."

Wow, she really went from zero to a hundred fast.

"Doesn't that sound nice? Shooting it right into your sister's womb? You better knock me up, or else we'll have to do this again and again."

You're really apprehensive, but her words tickle your ears and bring you closer to orgasm. She notices how hard you're throbbing, and she quickly releases you and rolls over. She pulls you onto your side and spoons you.

"You're going to make your sister a mother. So don't you dare touch yourself. I'll know," she whispers into your ear. "Goodnight."

She quickly starts snoring lightly after all her exertion, still clutching you. Laying here like this is painful. You're blue balled beyond belief, and you're having trouble sleeping. Her words are deadly serious too. You sit and think about how far this has gone.

The idea of having sex with her already seems like a lot, but once you cross this line, there's no going back. What if things didn't work out for some reason? You'd never be able to live a normal life with her and go back to just being siblings. You can at least be confident that will never happen though. It doesn't make you less anxious, though. Raw, bareback fucking. There'd at least be a little bit of denial that would come with using a condom. But impregnating her is even further than you'd ever expect to go. It is what would normally come from a marriage, but it's just been something that you tried your hardest to push from your mind. It's your sister, for god's sake. Just because the Anthrostate claimed you have "perfect genetic compatibility" doesn't mean much when you think about the consequences. What would everyone say? The most horrifying thing would be to think how you'd explain that to your children. "Why do we only have one grandma and grandpa?" they'd ask. At least you have a whole week to think things over.

With all these thoughts, your body manages to calm down just a bit. Not as much as you'd like, since the perverse pleasure of her words awakened a part of you that you'd rather not look at. You're calm enough to sleep now, though. So you let yourself melt into her warm embrace, and force yourself to sleep.

Notes:

Is Anon about to end up on the front page of BRED.com? Stay tuned and find out.

Thanks to chatGPT for naming every location I used in this chapter. Random name generators don't have SHIT on it.

Chapter 5 Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It's another one of those dreams again. You haven't had them in years, but it feels like you've been having them almost every night since you've slept in her arms. This time, you see a spinning world of white. You're tumbling through the snow really fast, but your snow suit is cushioning the blow, among other things. You can feel Scarlett wrapped around you, rolling in the snow with you. You don't realize or appreciate it at the time, but she's got her body cradled around yours to keep you from getting hurt. As you finally skid to a halt at the bottom of the hill, She's on top of you looking triumphant.

"Haha! I win again this time!" she gloats. "You're just not big enough to get me!"

Each of you grab your respective sleds and run back up the hill. The rules for your "game" are simple. Slide down the hill, try to knock each other off. Whether it's a tackle, a push, or even grabbing the sled from under one another, it's all fair game. You're determined to win this time. The two of you kick off and are sliding down at the same time. Reaching your arm out, you grip one of the handles of her sled and yank it towards you as hard as you can. It lurches to the left, bumping against yours before starting to tip over. It flips and Scarlett is sent tumbling. Right in front of you, unfortunately. She acts as a makeshift ramp as you take to the air and bail out in a rough landing, your body splayed out as you come to a halt. She stands up and runs over to you.

"Hey! You ran me over!" she shouts in a huff.

"That means I beat you twice as hard," you retort.

"C'mere you," she growls, before jumping on top of you and grabbing you by the legs.

She takes a pawful of snow and starts to try and shove it down your jacket.

"Quit it! That's cold!" you whine.

You squirm as you roll around with her before continuing your games. Taking a break later inside to warm up, the both of you drink hot cocoa before deciding to go harass your parents about the same topic yet again.

"We wanna go to the creek. We promise we'll be fine," Scarlett says.

Your father sighs. "I already said no. You guys will fall in the ice and catch your death."

"It's not that deep! Please?" you beg.

"Even if you keep asking, I won't change my mind. Just go outside and play, normally."

The two of you are incensed. You've been wanting to play on the ice for days now. You continue playing with your sleds until the temptation is too great.

"Let's go anyway. They won't find us," Scarlett suggests.

With sleds in tow, you make your way to the small wooded area and prepare to enter the clearing to the creek.

"What do we do with these? We can't bring them with us," you note.

"They'll find us if they see them. Hide them in the snow!" she commands.

After piling snow on top of the sleds, the two of you start to run over the frozen over stream, jumping on the ice. At some point Scarlett finds a big stick and keeps on bashing the end of it into the ice, like she's trying to dig into it.

"See? I knew this was going to be fun!" she shouts.

It really is fun. You stomp and walk along the ice until you get to the deeper part. Scarlett's ahead of you, and the ice starts to crack.

"Woah, I'm too heavy to go further," she says.

"That's okay, I'm lighter, so it'll be fine if I go," you reply.

You're not entirely sure what that's going to accomplish, since you'd be alone anyways, but you start gingerly taking steps further and further out. Even as the ice starts to splinter under your boots, you're determined to cross the deep patch. Unsurprisingly, it eventually gives, and you're submerged up to your thighs. The water soaks into your snow pants, and you struggle to pull yourself up onto the fractured ice.

"Hahaha!" Scarlett laughs.

Upon seeing your predicament, she manages to stop laughing and offer her stick to pull you out. It doesn't work at all, and you have to just wade your way through the frigid waters until you find a solid enough surface. You start making your way back from whence you came, your legs heavy with water. It's pretty cold, but not completely unbearable.

You exit the woods where your stashed sleds are buried, and you see your parents a few hundred feet away, looking for the two of you before your father spots you. He comes rushing over.

"You two! I told you not to play in there! You could've drowned, or gotten frostbite, or..." He continues to list a smorgasbord of dangerous scenarios.

It's not too likely any of them would have happened, but he always was a worrywart. The both of you are fine, afterall.

"We're sorry," you both apologize.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it. You're both grounded for a week."

He looks around before realizing something.

"You didn't lose your sleds in the water, did you? We're not buying you more if you did."

You and Scarlett sheepishly dig up the hidden sleds.

"You're grounded for two weeks now."

You wake up, and your face feels kind of... sticky. Scarlett's got you trapped in her arms yet again. It takes a bit of effort to escape her grasp, but you manage to get free and hop into the bathroom and wash off your face. All her soap smells so mild. You can't smell much, but you still probably reek of her loins to an anthro. You take a step back into the bedroom, and watch her displeased expression.

"Uuugh..." she groans in her sleep.

She's got some serious bags under her eyes. It looks like she's going to regret those drinks this morning. You tuck her into bed a little bit more, and walk out to the living room to ponder what to do. You would attempt to cook breakfast, but you'll have no idea when she'll be up. You start brewing some coffee, since she'll probably need it. You sit down on the couch and try to think for a bit. What should you do here, for the next week? Besides getting toyed with, of course. She's not going to make this easy. You're still very uneasy at the prospect of sleeping with her.

Your thoughts are interrupted before you can even finish your coffee. You hear Scarlett get up and walk towards the bathroom, finishing whatever business she has, and leaving the sink running for entirely too long before shutting it off. She walks out and looks at you, her eyes red and bleary. She looks at the coffee and gives you a slight smile, before wordlessly grabbing a mug. She flops her body next to yours, wrapping her arm around her neck, still clutching the mug. There's a few minutes of silence as the two of you finish drinking.

"Want me to make some breakfast?" you ask.

She cocks an eyebrow at you. "I don't think I have the energy to teach you today. Maybe we can go out."

She pulls out her phone to look at her bank account. She sees the notification that you sent her some money, and she gets a bit offended.

"Anon. I can support the both of us, you know," she says.

"Not if you keep taking me out at expensive places like that," you retort. "Let me take care of breakfast. Let me treat you this time."

"Anon, that's not right. How am I supposed to let a man pay for me?" she asks.

"We're not some dating couple, we're together now. That means we share, right?" you assert.

She lets out a short growl. "That's dirty. But fine. I'll show you my favorite place."

She manages to get herself dressed, a rather lazy combo of some gym shorts and a hoodie. She makes you wear the shirt she made for you, again. You really hope that class doesn't make her create a full wardrobe full of these for you. The both of you head out into the street, heading the opposite direction as last time towards the brunch spot that she's picked out.

"This place is great. They have the best bloody marys," she says. "God knows I need one right now."

Hair of the dog might not be the best idea, but it's better than nothing.

"They really load it up with a huge garnish. Olives, cornichons, and spicy giardiniera. It's practically an appetizer." She seems pretty excited, even though you don't know what some of those things are.

"So what is this place?" you ask.

"Le Petit Parisien. It's a crêperie. Little French pancakes with stuff inside them. If you're with me, I'm going to make sure you get cultured," she says.

You like pancakes, so that sounds pretty good.

The two of you arrive, and the restaurant is bustling. It is Sunday afternoon, after all. Luckily you manage to grab a seat at the counter, and Scarlett manages to get her bloody mary to sip on. She leans into you playfully before her tail wraps around your waist. She nuzzles you for a second before her nose flares.

"That's good. You still smell like me. Everyone will know that you're mine," she growls into your ear.

Her tail starts to snake around you even more aggressively, and she starts bumping her feet into yours in a game of footsies. The waiter arrives, interrupting your play, and Scarlett turns to order for the both of you.

"Yeah, the ones with pancetta, and then the lemon poppy ones," she finishes. She turns to you. "We can share both of them," she says with a sweet smile.

She starts to recuperate a bit from her drink, and the food finally arrives. The both of you tuck into your food. It's really good, you note. It's a good thing that you have her to show you around or you'd be eating fast food everyday. You close out the bill, which seems to embarrass her a bit, but she doesn't say anything this time. On the way back, you see that she's pretty much back to one hundred percent again. It looks like she just needed food more than anything. You go back to the apartment, and Scarlett lays down on the couch. You go and grab the old coffee from the pot and start pouring it out into the sink. As you start to scrub the glass interior of the coffee pot, she interrupts you.

"You alright, Anon? You've been kind of weird all day," she asks.

Looks like she caught on to your unease from last night. You'll have to bring up your feelings on the subject, but you're worried it might break her heart. You're going to try and tread softly here.

"So, uh, last night was kind of intense..." you admit.

"Yeah, it was kind of fun though, right?" she asks, a bit concerned. "Sorry, I get a little lost in my fantasies sometimes."

"I guess I enjoyed it a bit," you say, downplaying how much it aroused you.

"Don't lie to me. I can read you like an open book," she teases.

"Okay, you got me there. It was pretty hot. But it's a bit early to be talking about things like that," you say.

"Yeah. It was just a little bit of roleplay. I probably should have told you sooner," she apologizes.

That's reassuring, but it still seems like she's dead set on going all the way with you.

"You'd definitely wouldn't be ready for something like that," she states before correcting herself. "I mean we wouldn't." Her whiskers droop a bit.

Was she really telling the truth? It's a bit hard for you to tell. At least she's being really respectful of what your boundaries are. If it was any other marriage, you would've been completely violated at this point. Your sister really cares about you, and it really shows.

"Yeah... I also don't know if I'm ready to go all the way. I'm scared it'd change everything between us. And I don't want that more than anything," you finally put into words.

She can't really hide her emotions. Most anthros can't. Her ears are betraying her with how they droop.

"It wouldn't change anything for me," she says in an almost inaudible voice. "I promise I love you with all my heart, and I always will no matter what. Even if you don't want to do this. I won't ever hurt you."

"Thanks," you say.

She forces herself to perk up a bit. "I'm pretty persuasive, though. I'll get you to come around eventually," she jokes. "Don't forget it's another expression of love. I just want to share it with you."

She stands up and spins around before looking over her shoulder with a grin. "The ban is still in effect though. I might like to watch you squirm a bit, but you're really going to love it," she says with a smirk.

She saunters up to you to whisper into your ear. "Your sister is going to make you cum the hardest you ever had in your life."

With that, she pulls you over to the couch and sits you down onto the couch before going into the bedroom to grab something. She comes back out with a bottle, but you can't quite tell what it is.

"Hmmm hmmm," she hums a bit before sitting down with you. She suddenly gets a glint in her eye. "Here, you take it. Open it."

She hands over the mystery bottle to you, and you crack open the lid. You sniff it, and you can tell it's a lightly scented lotion.

"One of my friends from the art scene is obsessed with soap making. She even branched out to lotions and such. I never touched any of them that she gave to me. If you look under the sink there's dozens of them," she explains.

"I'm not surprised you have all the soap stored up. You never use it," you joke.

"Hmph. I just like the unscented stuff," she declares as she turns up her nose.

"So, what do I do with this? It has to be useless for your fur," you ask.

"That's right. It's only for paw pads. Your sister wants to keep them nice and soft for you since you like them so much," she says. "You have to work for what you want though. Get down in front of me."

You stand in front of her sitting form, before she firmly and slowly pushes you into a crouch. She presents her hands to you, palm up. You squirt some of it directly onto her paw pad.

She flinches a bit. "Hey! That's all cold. Warm it up with your hands first," she orders.

Per her orders, you start rubbing the lotion between your hands, warming it up with your skin. You reach forward and start rubbing it into her soft paw pads, enjoying the sensation of each fingertip. The lotion makes it slippery and smooth as your thumbs glide over the surface until it soaks into her skin. You can feel the warmth of her hotter body, almost like a set of hand warmers. Cheetahs do have a higher body temperature you note. You're not sure if it's because of a fetish, or if it's because you're already so pent up, but you find yourself at a half-boner just from touching a few of her fingertips. It seems she noticed your reaction.

"Seriously?" She's a bit surprised. "Wow, I've completely turned my little brother into a pervert. Can I even hold your hands anymore when we're out in public? I guess that's okay. I'd love to see how embarrassed you'd get."

"It's not like that, I think?" you say.

That's probably a complete lie, but you're honestly confused by your reaction. She suddenly raises her leg, raising it to your crotch before rubbing it with her footpaw slowly. Even through your clothes, it's very stimulating as she draws circles with her paw.

"Hmmm. Well, I'll let you think about that. We'll see how you feel when you finish with all of your sister's paws," she teases.

You finally rub your thumbs against the center paw pad, and the springy texture satisfies you both sexually and mentally. It'd be therapeutic if you could enjoy it in a normal way. Even with how soft they are, there's a light grain on the surface, smooth as silk one way, and the tiniest bit scratchy when you go against it. The sheen of the surface before all of the lotion seeps in makes you wonder how they'd feel against your body.

Before you move onto her other hand, you press into the flesh, giving her an impromptu massage. Her hands have to get pretty sore working on art all day. She lets out a slight moan in appreciation.

"Mmmn. I might have to get you to massage my whole body. I'd say you should get a job as a masseuse, but I don't want your hands on anyone but me. You're only mine, and I'm not sharing," she says.

You didn't ever think that this kind of possessiveness would warm your heart so much. She really makes you feel so special and loved. More than anything, you feel safe. She always made sure you did. You work on her other hand in much the same manner, and she continues her light teasing on you the whole time.

"I think you do really like this. I can feel how hard you're getting. Why don't you be more honest?" she suggests.

"I do like it. Taking care of my sister like this. You really deserve it," you admit.

She gives you a very warm and loving smile before stroking your face with her free hand.

"You do too. Don't forget that."

You finish, and she pulls her footpaws away from you before offering them up for your massage. You take care of them in much the same way, as she splays her toes in satisfaction. She's making it easy to access every part of her paws. You keep on working and massaging her last paw before she gives you an order.

"I think you've finished your job a while ago. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, but I can't let you get too excited. Why don't you give it a little kiss? I want my little brother to treat me like the gentleman he is," she says.

You oblige her and lay a chaste kiss on the top of her paw. She lifts you up by your armpits and pulls you on top of your lap so that you're straddling her. She lets out a light giggle.

"You did such a good job. I love you," she says as she nuzzles her cheek against your neck.

You don't even need to say it back. You're sure she knows.

"Let me feel your hands. They have to be nice and soft too," she says as she leans into your touch. "I like it. I have to return the favor too. Maybe I should get you to start conditioning my fur too."

You're truly happy. You'd do anything for her. You really want to make each other as happy as possible. The two of you sit there and enjoy the contact from each other's embrace.

It's finally the end of the week. As much of her doting on you has been lovely, she's been almost torturing you sexually. You're still afraid of what's to come, and if there will be any consequences. All of her edging, her really dirty words, and even her regular intimacy has you going wild. Have you completely fallen for her, in every way? Will you give in to her wishes to fuck you? Either way, you can't calm down anymore. The visions of her pounding her hips on you, robbing you of your seed, and all her sweet kisses can't leave your mind. She's almost like a succubus whispering directly into your mind. You don't think you could handle it if she sadistically decided to extend the ban. Luckily, she seems impatient at this point too, even with her being able to get release while denying you. You don't want to give into the temptation of masturbating, because you know whatever she does with her body will feel so much better. You do want to see what her punishment might be, though.

The evening of the final day finally rolls around, and it seems she wants to enjoy a little more time to bond with you before the big event. It's almost a celebration of sorts.

"It's time for another cooking lesson!" she exclaims. "We're going to make something special tonight. I even bought some more cookware. It was an expensive shopping trip, but you're going to love it."

"What are we making?" you ask.

"Salmon piccata and parmesan risotto. It's basically salmon with lemon sauce, and cheesy rice. We're cooking with wine, and it's always fun to have a glass while you cook." She's gotten a lot better at simplifying things for you. "Most of it might be kind of complicated for you, so we're mostly going to train your knife skills."

You're a bit nervous, since you've barely cut anything other than like an apple or an orange. She teaches you about basic things like how to cook salmon in an oven, and frying the arborio rice. It looks like you have a few things to chop up for the sauce, though.

"Okay, we're going from easy to hard. Let's start with the lemon," she says.

You cut the lemon in half. That wasn't too bad.

"We need onion for the sauce and the risotto. Here, I'll help you dice it." She looms over you from behind, and takes your hands into hers to guide the knife.

Her chest is pressed against the back of your head, which is pretty distracting. You'd be able to ignore it more if you weren't so backed up. You can even feel her thick thighs touching you as well. She notices this, and she chides you a bit.

"You need to be a good boy and pay attention," she teases.

You manage to focus due to sheer willpower, and with her hands guiding you, you manage to dice the onion up cleanly. She pulls out some sour smelling little plant buds, and places them onto the cutting board.

"I like my capers minced in the piccata sauce. That means you cut them super small. I'll let you try it while I add everything we need for the risotto," she says.

You start cutting the capers, most of them gathering in a small pile. At the last moment, you nick your hand and pull it back.

"Oh no, are you okay Anon? Let me see it."

She walks over and takes a peek at it. She then pops your finger into her mouth, sucking it. It may be a loving act to treat your wounds, but there's something a little dark about it. She's really sucking and licking at your wound while her eyes start to lid. She's always been your overprotective sister, so you forget that she's a predator. She likes the taste of your blood. At the moment, you wonder what other things might lie within her wild side. For some reason, it kind of turns you on.

She pops the finger out of her mouth. "There we go, all better. Be more careful next time," she says sweetly.

Dinner is done soon after the lesson, and the two of you start eating. She pours you a glass of wine as well, and it tastes really nice with the food. It really is amazing. You think it might be one of the best meals that you have ever eaten. That might just be because you cooked it together, filled with love. The two of you take your time to eat it, but you eventually finish.

"Aahh, what a romantic dinner. I'm so glad I got to share it with you," she says, gazing at you with a sultry expression. "It only makes dessert even sweeter."

She's got that look on her face again. Those seductive, hungry eyes. Her chin is resting on her arm as her eyelids flutter. She lets the silence hang to really let her words sink in. She wordlessly walks over, slides her arm under you, and carries you to the bedroom. She practically rips off her clothes. The only thing she leaves on is her thigh highs. It seems she knows what you'd like, and prepared it in advance.

"Take them off. Now," she commands.

There's that bestial side coming out. You start to lift your shirt over your head as you're lying supine on the bed. It's literally been seconds, but she gets too impatient and starts trying to pull your pants off herself. You're pulled a few inches from the force of her tugging, but she manages to strip you nude. She then climbs onto the bed, but ignores you for a minute, confusing you. She fishes around in the bedside table, finally pulling something out from a drawer. She crawls over to you and starts to straddle your legs. She opens her hand and you see a little ring of sorts. You're not quite familiar with what it is. She lifts it up to her face.

"This should help you last a little longer. We don't want it to end too soon," she says.

She places the end of it in her mouth, lubricating it with her saliva. She opens her mouth to show it to you, her tongue running circles around the inside of the rim in slow circles. By the time she pulls it away from her mouth, there's a long drip of spit hanging precariously off of it. The sight of her dripping maw is already enough to get you hard, especially from all the times she's used it on you the past week. Her breasts hang down as she leans forward. She places the ring on the head of your cock, before starting to slide it down your length, gliding easily until it reaches the base. It's a little tight, not at all painful, but definitely pretty snug.

"Look at that. It's so cute. It's almost like it's all wrapped up in a bowtie, just for me," she says with a smirk.

She grips it, giving it a few tentative tugs before she scoots her body closer, sitting her body down right behind your erection. It's trapped between her soft plushy thighs as she squeezes them together. Sitting her body back into a sitting position, she lets you see your rod standing up between her legs. Her hips are pressed directly into the bottom of it, and you can feel the heat emanating from her loins. Feeling the soft tuft of fur from the cleft of her pussy is incredible. Extending a finger, she starts flicking the head of it back and forth, already smearing precum onto her fingertip.

"What do you want to do? I know what I want," she asks coyly. "Look at how hard you are. I want to feel it inside me."

"I don't know..." you falter.

"Trust me, you'll like this," she says as she raises her hips.

She wraps her hand around your cock, and drops her body down a few inches. You're perfectly lined up with her entrance, and you're pressed against her. Is she going to do it no matter what? She settles her body a bit, and you can feel her wetness drip directly out of her, all over your dick.

"Don't move or else it's going to slip in," she teases. She's got that evil look on her face again. "Or do. I know you want to."

You do, but also you don't. Maybe you should try a compromise?

"Wait! Maybe we should get a condom or something," you offer.

"No. I won't do it unless we do it raw." she explains. "I can extend the ban too if you want to be so stubborn. You won't be cumming at all tonight."

You know she could be forceful, but she's really got you against the wall at this point. Another day of torture might kill you. You can't bring yourself to say that you want this though. Your emotions are running high, almost as much as your arousal. She starts to gyrate her hips and you can feel her lips part, the tip of your penis almost entering her.

"Come on. Do you feel how wet my pussy is? How warm it is?" she taunts. "Think about how good it would feel to cum riiight in your sister's pussy."

You're starting to lose your sense of reason. Her words and movements are echoing through your head, and it's taking all your willpower to resist. Your breath goes heavy and you can barely speak.

"T-that's a bad idea. Inside," you stutter out.

"Don't worry. I'll take a morning-after pill. That makes it alright, right? Right?" You can hear the desperation and hunger in her voice. "Now we can do it. That good enough for you?"

Her body is shaking as she holds herself back from completely engulfing you. Her animal instincts want nothing other than to violate you.

"I love you so much. Please let me show you. Please don't say no. Please..." Her eyes are wild, her breaths so fast that she can barely speak through her pants.

"I love you too. So go ahead and do whatever you want." Somehow you can justify it if you leave the decision to her, even though there's no doubt as to what her choice is going to be.

She slowly drops herself down onto you, her slick walls taking you inside her effortlessly. You can feel her insides quiver already, just from the insertion. She leans over you, licking your collarbone.

"Mmmnh! This is even better than I ever thought it would be," she says. "You didn't ask the right way, but it's okay, this time. I've got you now, though. You're mine now. From now on, you're going to be begging for it. Begging for your sister to fuck you."

She starts to rock her hips back and forth, grinding you against her deepest parts. She's just enjoying the sensation of you being inside her, and she wants to drag it out as long as possible. Her tongue finds its way up to your cheek and starts bathing you with her spit. She stares at you, unblinking with a sadistic expression as her hips gyrate against you.

"God, it's so perfect. It's touching all the right places. We're compatible in every way. I wish I would've done this sooner," she pants. She rests her hand on your cheek. "Open your mouth."

You comply, and she slips the edge of her thumb into the corner of your mouth. You can feel the claws of her other fingers poke into your cheek, poking you just a bit as she grips you. She brings her face close to yours.

"Taste me."

Her hips start to move up and down slowly as she parts her maw. She lets her tongue dangle from her mouth as saliva starts to pool in her mouth. A long stringy dollop runs down her tongue and into your mouth.

"Aaaaah," she moans, with her jaw hanging open. "Is that good? Do you like it? Your sister's going to give you long, sweet kisses. Over and over again until you can't live without them."

You don't have a chance to respond before her mouth crashes into yours, her wet tongue violating you with her uncontrollable fervor. Her mouth tastes strong and sweet, the flavor making your head swim. She starts to speed up her hips as her thighs start to slap onto yours. She's fucking you, mercilessly at this point. If you could even speak, you don't think she would even hear you. She's humping you so forcefully, that you can barely see her as a rational being anymore. She's almost regressed into a wild animal, trying her best to milk you of your seed. You're bathed in her excitement, sticky webs forming with every thrust between the both of your legs. She's so hot inside, her warmer body temperature almost scalding your dick. Her hole starts to squeeze you in pulses before she finally pulls her head back.

"You're so good. I'm going to cum soon. Are you going to cum too?" she asks.

You are pretty close as well. It's a miracle that you already haven't climaxed yet. It's only because you're resolved to withstand her assault until she's satisfied. Your cock throbs painfully, restrained by the ring wrapped around the hilt. She starts to nibble at your ear again, her fangs threatening to puncture them. She can't hold herself back and she bites down causing a sharp pain, and you hiss lightly. It fades rather quickly, and she tends to it with her tongue.

"I want to taste you. All of you," she moans.

After she finishes coating your ear with her spit, she finally pulls her torso back to bounce on top of you.

"Look. Look at how we're connected. You're making your sister feel so good. I'm happy. Aren't you happy?" she asks

You really are. You don't know how you ever doubted her or hesitated. Feeling her is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

"Yes! I love you!" you choke out.

Her eyes grow wide in exhilaration, and she redoubles her efforts into a manic frenzy.

"Show me! Cum inside your sisterrr!" she commands, her words slurring in pleasure.

She lets out a halted scream as she presses her hips down as hard as she can, convulsing around your cock. You can't hold back your orgasm anymore either, and you shoot rope after rope of cum directly into her womb. It pumps inside her over and over again, your ejaculation seeming to never end. You see sparks as you start to grow dizzy, your vision going dark for a second as you stop being able to comprehend anything.

"Oh fuck!" Scarlett says as she rides out both of your orgasms. "Oooh..."

Her voice brings you back, and you realize that you actually passed out for a few seconds. You didn't even know that was possible. The two of you catch your breath, taking minutes to even be able to speak. She is finally able to act, and she leans over to kiss you again, tender as she tastes your lips. She pulls her head back before letting out a voice that almost sounds like a whisper.

"I love you so, so much. You're perfect."

She starts to remove her body from yours, and even though you're so completely spent, you still don't want to part from her warmth. She squats up above you spreading herself as sperm pours freely out of her hole. It splatters all over your crotch and thighs.

"You let out so much..." she says dreamily. "I guess I don't need to ask you if it was good."

The two of you let out a tired chuckle. She then locks both of her hands with yours, fingers intertwined, and starts to pull you up.

"Let's go hop in the shower before we make an even bigger wet spot on the bed. A quick one though. We really tired ourselves out," she jokes.

The two of you make your way over, walking unsteadily with your shaky legs, and do the bare minimum to clean yourselves. You walk back into the bedroom as Scarlett rummages around in the bathroom.

"Scarlett?" you ask.

She walks out presenting a clean towel to you.

"I'm putting this on the bed. I'm not sleeping on that, and I'm not going to make my husband either."

After placing it down, she pulls you into her arms and rolls you playfully onto the bed. You decide to admit something to her.

"Scarlett? I'm sorry I doubted you. That really was perfect," you say.

She pulls you closer into her breast. "I told you before, your sister always knows what's best for you," she says with a light chuckle.

That's the last thing you say as you finally succumb to sleep, cradled in her soft embrace.

Notes:

I love getting to force my cooking autism on my readers. It took a lot of restraint to not write out every step in detail. Salmon piccata is an underrated gem, and completely outshines chicken or veal.

Chapter 6 Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

You roll over in bed, and you find you're pretty sore. You sit up and look around, and Scarlett is nowhere to be found. You take a few tentative steps, scanning the living room and seeing no sign of her. You start for the bathroom and see her standing there. She's staring at something in her hand blankly, with a somber expression on her face. You spend a few moments before calling out to her.

"Scarlett? You okay?" you ask.

"Hmmm? Yeah, I'm fine. Just spacing out a bit," she replies.

She pops whatever she was holding into her mouth and swallows. She hugs her arms around you.

"Last night was so fun. Thanks for doing that for me," she says. She brings her head down to nuzzle your cheek. "Love you. We'll have to do that again. Especially the ban."

Man, she really likes the idea of it. It's a bit of a difficult kink to work with, but you have to admit that it does pay off in the end. She lets go of you, and you do your morning routines. You step out into the kitchen and pull out the canister of cheap coffee grounds to make something to wake you up a bit.

"Hey Anon, wait," Scarlett interrupts you. "Let's go to the coffee shop I told you about."

You two of you get dressed, and it looks like Scarlett chose something stylish this time. It's a little different from her usual style. She's got on a maroon short wrap skirt, just high enough to let you get a peek at her creamy thighs. It's neatly buttoned up on the side, her top partially tucked in. It's a loose wool sweater that leaves her shoulders completely exposed, with the straps of a spaghetti string top showing. The sleeves are long enough that only they completely obscure her paws.

"What do you think?" she asks as he twirls around.

"You look great. Why are you getting all dressed up, though?" you ask.

"Because it's our little morning date. It's going to be great," she chirps. "Go pick out a pair of earrings for me while I get my boots on."

You find her little jewelry box, and it's an absolute mess. It's just loose studs everywhere in a pile, and it takes a while for you to untangle them. As you sort through them, you notice most of them are enamel pins with unique little designs. Pawprints, hearts, flowers, and even fruits and foods. She walks up behind you while you decide what to pick.

"All those pins are from Cookie. I don't know how she comes up with all these cute designs," she ponders.

She really has a lot of artsy friends. If it's creative, she probably knows someone who makes it. You pick out a pair, small studs that are of a small, fluffy white flower. You hand them to her so she can put them in.

"Baby's breath," she says as she affixes them to her ears. "Do you know what they mean?"

"No?"

She grabs you by the hand and starts leading you outside.

"Everlasting love," she says with a smile.

The two of you start walking along the street, her fingers locked with yours. Thankfully, it isn't too busy since it's the middle of a weekday. It really allows you to take your time and enjoy the weather and sounds of the city. For some reason, you really enjoy the ambient noise of cars passing by. In contrast, you don't enjoy that shirtless anthro over there screaming at a wall. That doesn't please your ears as much.

You eventually reach the cafe that she pointed out the other day. "The Cultured Cup" What a name. You walk in and see it's trendy, not your usual sort of place. Burnt, hours-old coffee from a gas station is what you usually drink. The both of you walk up to the counter.

"Hi, Amanda. I'll take the usual," she says. "What are you getting?" she asks you.

"Uhhh..." You don't recognize a lot of the names. "Just a house coffee with a muffin."

"Okay," the barista says. "So Scarlett, who's this? Boyfriend? Husband?"

"Husband. This is Anon," she replies.

"Congrats! Drinks are on me, but you're still paying for the food," she says.

The two of you get your drinks and food, and sit down and enjoy them. This coffee is definitely much better than what you're used to, but you're not sure if it's worth six dollars. At least it was free this time. You look around and see that there are various pieces hung up on the wall, with prices for any patrons to buy them, if they desire.

"I've got two of them in here. I'll show them to you once we finish up here," Scarlett chimes.

The two of you finish up, and she walks you over to a painting hung on the far wall. This one's a portrait of a rough-looking wolf covered in piercings. She's dressed up in a fishnet top and leggings. The only thing covering any of her body is a pair of washed-out daisy dukes and an unbuttoned punk battle vest. Her shorts are completely unbuttoned and zipped down just enough to see that she's not wearing anything underneath them. Her vest is covered in patches decrying the State. "Freedom from Fascism." "Molotov a State building." "Kill every officer." It's even got those little studs on the shoulders. She's lucky that political persecution isn't much of a thing anymore. Three decades ago, she'd be in a military detention center, and she wouldn't be coming back. That said, it's a very expressive painting. Heavy, aggressive brushstrokes make her fur look pointier and sharper than it is. Probably. Those types do love their hair gel. A blood-like red glow from a neon sign bathes her, casting shadows under her face. She's definitely in a scary alleyway in the picture. It probably explains the bike chain that she's holding too. Scarlett did a great job of capturing her visage. You feel like you already know exactly who this anthro is.

"That's Garbagecan," she says.

What? You don't understand the non-sequitur. Scarlett sees the confusion paint your face and elucidates further.

"That's her name. Garbagecan. You can call her Garbage too."

"Her parents named her that?" you ask incredulously.

"No, that's just her nickname. Thinking about it, I have no idea what her real name is. I've known her for years and everyone calls her that," she ponders.

Your sister has some interesting friends. A scary wolf named Garbagecan who would probably fuck you in one too. Just lovely.

"She seems... nice," you lie.

"I know she looks scary, but she's a sweetheart. Some drunk started a fight with me, and she jumped in and saved me. She took me to her place and got my face cleaned up. Then she tried to take my top off and I finally understood what was going on. Calling her sexually adventurous is an understatement," she laughs. "She always gets embarrassed when I bring it up. I'm going to warn you though, she's probably going to try and talk us into a threesome when she meets you."

She droops a bit, her eyes downcast. "Yeah... When you meet my friends." She snaps herself out of it. "Let me go show you the other piece."

It looks like she went with something a little more avant-garde, a pop art piece of a taxi blazing through the city. You can see the streaks of its tail lights as it pulls a sharp turn. The lines are crisp and uniform, almost like they were painted on by a machine. The colors pop out even though they're completely flat.

"That's pretty cool, but you know people don't really ride taxis that much anymore," you say.

"It's the aesthetic. What, am I supposed to paint a Civic with an Uber sticker on it?" she retorts.

She takes you back outside for a little stroll. You're not quite sure where she's taking you.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"The park. Remember how I said I was going to show you it? I brought my sketchbook too, so I can get some work done," she answers.

You start walking along the sidewalk to the park with her, but she suddenly freezes in her steps. She's looking at one of the storefronts. It's a jewelry store. Inside you can see rings, earrings, necklaces, and of course, collars. She's got her eyes wide in wonder.

"Come on, let's go in," she says as she excitedly drags you in.

She pulls you up to the counter, and the clerk greets her. "Newlyweds? I can show you our selection," the clerk offers.

"That's okay, we're going to look first," Scarlett says.

As you look around you notice how expensive everything is. Elegant wedding bands, fine leather collars studded with luxurious metals, the works. Scarlett looks at you excitedly.

"Do you want a ring? ...or maybe a collar is better?" she says with an ecstatic grin. "Pick whichever one you want."

You look between the two cases, back and forth. You can feel her eyes boring into you. Every time your eyes scan over the collars, she gets a grin on her face. They don't look too uncomfortable. Comfortably padded on the inside with silky soft leather and an etched plate for the metal tag.

"So? Did you find a color you like?" she asks. She's really trying to push the collar on you. You never guessed that she was that traditional.

"I, uh, don't hate the collars. I just don't know if I would want to wear them outside the house though," you admit.

It looks like she caught onto your slip of the tongue. She pulls herself behind you to whisper in your ear.

"You don't like collars. You like collars. That's good enough for me. I'll buy you a cute one later. A fuzzy yellow one with cheetah spots. You'll look so good wearing that just for me," she says.

She removes her lips from your ear to speak normally again. "Looks like we'll need to find some rings instead. I already know what kind I'm going to get," she says.

She doesn't seem too disappointed with the compromise. She must've thought out her plan B very well. She looks at the clerk and points one out.

"That one right there. That's his birthstone," she explains.

That was quick, it almost seemed like she already knew what case it was in. She doesn't even bother trying it on, and just tells the salesman to box it up. She grabs your hand as she waits for you.

"Now you have to pick one. Luckily my birthstone is diamond, so you should have a ton of them to pick from," she says.

It takes a while, but you finally decide on one. Scarlett was no help at all, saying that every ring you pointed out is perfect. You went with something simple and elegant, just a regular band with a tiny diamond embedded in it. As she buys that one too, you see her pouring over papers with the salesman. It's a ton of papers, and her ears are folded down in worry. The price is nothing horrific, you might even call it low for the little you know about jewelry, but Scarlett isn't exactly rolling in cash. She signs paper after paper before she sets the jewelry handed over to her. She perks up a bit after she can actually hold them in her paws.

"Hey Scarlett, you okay on money to buy those?" you ask, concerned.

"It's a payment plan. A rough one," she says as she winces. "But it's all worth it."

She sticks the rings into the messenger bag that she was carrying and starts to pull you along again.

"We still have to get to the park!" she shouts gleefully.

You're practically in a run as she dashes ahead with you in tow. You're sure it's a slow pace for her, but sometimes she forgets that humans can't run as fast as a cheetah. At the entrance, she slows down as you stroll along the path for a few hundred feet.

"That tree over there. That's the one I like to sit under," she says.

The two of you walk through the grass, and she seats you in front of her. She fishes the rings out and pops open the lid, pulling yours out. She takes your hand, sliding it onto your finger. She then extends hers so you can do the same. It's a perfect fit on her ring finger. She brings her hand up to your cheek, the other wrapped around the back of your neck.

"I tried it on so many times, and now it's finally mine," she says before pulling you into a tender kiss, parting after just a few moments. "I'm so happy."

With your little informal ceremony over, Scarlett grabs you gently and starts to lay you down. She rests the back of your head onto her thighs as she stretches out her legs. Her fur feels lovely on your skin, as always. Her cushiony thighs provide perfect support for your neck. She pets your hair a few times before she starts to rummage through her messenger bag. She pulls out her sketchbook and starts drawing on it. As you listen to the scratchy sound of pencil on paper, you hear her start to chuckle a bit.

"Everyone in that jewelry store is probably so relieved that I won't be going in to try on the rings anymore. They probably had a running bet on if I would ever buy one," she jokes.

"I'm sure they did. You sure you're not disappointed about the collar thing?" you ask.

"Well, if it was my choice you'd be wearing a ring and a collar," she pouts.

"And the shirt too..." you mutter.

"What's wrong with the shirt?!" she exclaims.

"Nothing! It's great and I love it!" you answer defensively.

"Good. I'll make you even more then," she declares.

That's definitely not what you wanted to hear. You'll let her have her fun though. Maybe she can come up with "better" designs with more practice. In reality, they're probably going to get more tacky instead. You turn your head a bit to look at the landscape that Scarlett's painting.

In the middle of the park is the sculpture that she likes so much. It's deceptively simple. Gigantic steel rectangles jut from the ground. They're all angled in different ways so they can crisscross and obscure each other from different angles. It looks almost like a deck of cards got dropped, and they all stuck to the ground. The texture is rough matte, so it doesn't reflect too much sunlight. It's a good idea for the eyes. The park is pretty small though. You think you can see a grand total of six other trees. On all sides, high-rise buildings loom over the tiny patch of green. There's a path running diagonally through the park, so there's a lot of foot traffic in the area.

You roll your head over again facing her. "Hey quit it, your breath tickles," she titters.

Now that you realize it, you are kind of breathing right down her skirt.

"You want to be between my thighs that much? You have to wait until we get home for that. Unless you're really quiet," she jokes.

That's an exciting prospect, but the both of you catching public indecency charges wouldn't be worth it. A public park is certainly not a State certified breeding zone. Well, maybe for birds, but definitely not humans and anthros. You pull your head up a bit so you can look at what's in front of you.

Speaking of birds, a unique passerby catches your eye. It's a hyena in a beanie and a hoodie combo walking around aimlessly. She's got on a pair of baggy cargo capris, opting to go bare-pawed. That's a brave thing to do in this city. You never know when you're going to step on a used needle or a broken forty-bottle. She's looking at the birds in the trees while slowly strolling along. Not birdwatching, just lazily stopping and staring at them every few seconds. Eventually, her eyes turn to the tree you and Scarlett are sitting under. She watches the robins flutter around for several seconds, and then you see her look down at the two of you. There are gears turning in her head, albeit really slowly. She starts to walk over to you with a smile.

"Hey, Scarlett. Drawing at the park again?" she asks.

Scarlett turns her head over to the intruder interrupting her during her relaxation time. Her face screws up a bit, then softens when she sees who it is. You sit yourself up so you can look at least a little more proper. The hyena leans down and gives Scarlett a hug.

"Luv, this is my husband, Anon." Scarlett introduces you.

The she-hyena reaches down to hug you as well. And she absolutely reeks. Not at all in a good way, either. You're not sure if she even knows what a bath is. The stench of yeen musk, stale weed smoke, and sex exudes from her in an almost visible miasma. If this were a cartoon, she'd have stink lines and a few flies circling around her. At least the hug is pretty gentle and kind. Her hoodie kind of smells like pizza, which distracts you a bit from the other odors. She sits down on the ground in front of you two, cross-legged.

"I'm Luvleen. Everyone calls me Luv," she says. Her hand waves slowly back and forth at you.

"She's the first friend I made since I came to the city. And my best friend," Scarlett adds.

"We met at the Art Center for classes, when I was learning glassblowing," Luv says.

"So you make vases and stuff?" you ask.

"Sometimes. I mostly just make pipes and sell them to the smoke shops. I just made this one the other day," she says as she pulls out her phone to show you.

It's a really ornate pipe shaped like an Oriental dragon. Whiskers and everything. She's pretty good at what she does.

"That's cool," you say.

"Thanks." Her eyes scan the tree above you before she continues. "So husband, huh Scarlett? That was fast."

"Yeah, but he's perfect though. When are you going to settle down?" Scarlett teases.

"I get my free pick of stoner boys and hippies. Assignment's for chumps. I'll find a winner instead of some square," Luv gloats.

"We'll see what you say when you're thirty," Scarlett says.

"So, he's Anon, right? That's the same name of your kid brother you always talk about. That's gotta be a little weird," she says as she puffs on a vape pen of some sort.

"Yeah that is pretty weird, isn't it..." she starts. Her face changes from a sorrowful expression to a look of determination after a sharp inhale. "Actually he's-he's-"

She's having trouble getting it out. You're not sure if you want her to. It's not like either of you are particularly ashamed of your relationship, but you are afraid. You don't want to take anything from her because of who you are, but you're kind of happy that she'd be so courageous for you. Your feelings are very mixed.

All you can do is squeeze her hand.

"Anon's my brother! They assigned me to my brother," she exclaims.

Luvleen looks a bit shocked. "Wow, they did that? That's crazy," she asks.

"It's okay because I've always loved him..." Her voice starts to falter from the anticipation of the insults that are about to be thrown at her.

"That's cool that you got what you wanted, then," Luv replies. "Anon looks like he's happy too."

Both of you are surprised beyond belief. Is she really happy for you two? Or just that easygoing?

"What?" Scarlett asks in disbelief.

"I said it's cool, and that Anon seems happy." Wow, she really is a space case.

"That's not what I mean," Scarlett sighs. "I just thought you'd be disgusted with me."

"You're my best friend. And my best friend is a good person," Luvleen smirks before taking another hit of the vape.

"Thanks," Scarlett's a bit too frazzled to say more.

"No problem," she says. "I need a sandwich. I'll see you guys later."

And with that, she walks away with a mock salute. That's certainly an abrupt way to say goodbye. It's kind of endearing in its own way though.

"Well that went better than expected," you say.

"Yeah," Scarlett replies.

"You're really lucky that you've got good friends," you remark.

"I really am," she says with a small smile.

Once she finishes her sketch, the two of you head back to the apartment and she prepares for another one of her classes. You're probably getting another shirt. Or a tote bag. Maybe even a ballcap. The idea of a hat with her cheesy taglines on it horrifies you. As you ponder the possible torture that you'll have to endure. Unfortunately, she subjects you to even one more.

"Bye Anon! Don't do anything bad while I'm gone, or else," she says cheerily "I know you're probably going to think about last night all day while I'm gone."

You weren't really thinking about it, but now she planted the idea in your mind. She had to have done that on purpose. It's going to be a tough few hours while you wait for her to get back. She leaves after saying those words. You need to find something to distract yourself for the next few hours.

You look around the house to find something to do. You sit on the couch and try to find something to watch. You scroll through the streaming app for a bit and just decide to watch a police drama. It's called "State of Emergency." It's about a hardboiled detective who busts various anthro on human crimes. This episode starts with a kidnapped human, but the detective eventually discovers an entire trafficking ring. All of the men are about to be smuggled in a train car, and she manages to jump out of her patrol car onto the locomotive. It stops slowly, and her backup shows up. It ends with the ringleaders arrested and all the humans returning home.

It was kind of cliche and unrealistic, but it kept your attention well enough. There's still time to burn though, and you're not sure when your sister is going to be back. You decide to do some random chores to take your mind off of the distracting thoughts Scarlett planted in your head. There's not much to be done in the kitchen and living room, so you decide to tackle your mess of a bedroom. As always, there are her clothes strewn about the floor, and you pick them up and put them in the hamper. She really needs to start putting her clothes up before going to bed. It's really not that much of a hassle. There's also a bunch of clean clothes in a separate hamper, so you put those away as well.

You look at the bed and find one single piece of clothing. A pair of panties laid neatly on the blankets. It's a trap, but you have to deal with it nonetheless. The question is, are they dirty, or clean? You lift them up and examine both sides. It appears clean. There's only one way to be sure though. A sniff check. You lift the center of it to your face, and it smells strong. The very scent makes your head spin. She's pretty much conditioned you to enjoy her smell at this point. You start to get a bit excited. Surely sniffing it more wouldn't hurt? You press it directly into your nose and inhale deeply. Her pheromones and feminine scent are so much stronger this close. It's just too much, and you need some release.

You sit down on the bed, wondering if you should really go through with this. There's no way that she'll actually know, right? You unzip your pants and fish out your erection. You start stroking yourself slowly to start with, with her panties pressed against your face. As you speed up, you take your time to taste them too. You can taste her flavor as you suck on the fabric. You bring yourself close to climax, and then you realize you don't have anything to cum into. There are no tissues, and you can't just shoot it wherever. Drastic times call for drastic measures. All you can do is take the pair of underwear and dirty it with your seed. The cloth is absolutely soaked as all of your cum seeps through the material.

As you catch your breath, you hear the front door crack open. You quickly zip up your pants and expertly toss the panties into the hamper. You'd be impressed at your shot if you weren't sweating bullets right now. You walk out of the bedroom to meet Scarlett. She smiles at you.

"I made something new for you today!" she states proudly.

She pulls out a beanie. Your fear of a themed hat was fulfilled. At least it's not a ballcap, and the weather is a bit warm for a beanie. At least that's what you're going to tell her. It's yellow, with a print of her foot paw in pink. There's an outline of a heart surrounding it. Is this some attempt to bully you for your fetish? At least it's subtle enough that anyone besides you two wouldn't read into it that much. It's nowhere as embarrassing as the shirt, which is a plus. You wouldn't be that upset wearing it. You're still going to avoid wearing it until the fall, and hope that she forgets that it exists by then.

"What's with the design this time?" you ask.

"I think it's cute. And I'm sure you do too," she says smugly.

It is an attempt to bully you. She's definitely getting some sort of sadistic pleasure out of this.

"Try it on," she commands.

You oblige her and put it on your head. It fits well, not too snug, and the perfect length. It's unfortunately short enough that you wouldn't be able to roll the bottom up to cover her design on it. It's really well-knit and soft too. You'd love it if it were normal. She's got an excited grin on her face.

"It's perfect! You look so cute in that," she exclaims. "I can't wait to show it off to everyone."

"Yeah, me either..." you groan.

She sets her stuff down and starts walking to the bedroom.

"I'm going to get into something more comfortable," she informs you.

Knowing her, that just means stripping to her underclothes. She steps into the bedroom, and she instantly starts flaring her nostrils. You're wondering if she caught you. She gives you a smile before she starts to take off her clothes. Is she just playing dumb for now? Either way, it looks like she's not going to act at the moment.

"Thanks for cleaning up in here, Anon," she says. "I'm going to try and be a bit more tidy from now on."

She gives you an evil grin. "I'll make sure to put everything in the hamper," she says.

Her steps are slow and deliberate as she struts over to the basket. It's positioned in the corner just perfectly so you can see it from the living room. She takes an exaggerated sniff.

"What's that smell? I've been smelling it since I got in the living room," she taunts.

She knew the second she got in. She's just been toying with you this whole time. She sets the clothes she was carrying at her feet.

"Where's it coming from? I'm soooo close to finding it," she asks.

"I'll help you," you offer. Maybe you can hide it discreetly? But she would eventually

She turns around, looking around the room in random places, the corners, the dresser drawers, and the tiny closet. She even ducks down to check under the bed. She walks into the bathroom and starts looking around. You start approaching the basket and she darts in front of you.

"I think I found it!" she exclaims. She grabs the pair of soiled panties from the top of the laundry. "What's this?" she says.

She lifts them up to her face and gives them a deep inhale. "I wonder what happened to these?" she asks. She flips them inside out to show you all the cum inside them. A glob of it trails down her hand.

"Anon, I thought you were better than that," she says in mock disappointment. "I guess you'll have to get punished."

She sits down on the bed. "Take off your clothes and come here," she orders.

You comply and stand in front of her. "What do you think we do to bad boys?" she asks. She picks you up and throws you over her knee.

She takes the underwear and wraps it around your cock. She starts to stroke it along your length slowly. You flinch a bit because the sperm coating them has already gone cold.

"Stealing your sister's panties and cumming all over them," she starts. "So, so naughty."

She raises her free hand, preparing to strike your hindquarters. "Wouldn't be much of a punishment without this. I'm not going to stop until you cum again," she says with a cruel smile.

Her open hand comes down on your rear, making a soft smacking sound. It's probably the fur on her hands cushioning the blow. Even with that, she spanks you hard enough for it to sting, without being too painful. A few strikes later, she starts to speed up her hand wrapped around your dick, trying to milk you of even more seed. The slickness of it starts to froth up from the wild movements.

"Do you really like your sister's panties this much? I can feel how hard you are," she comments coyly.

Continuing the steady pace of her palm, she redoubles her efforts and really starts pumping at you wildly.

"Are you going to cum again? Go ahead, you have permission," she informs you.

With a few final blows and her tight grip, you explode. She takes the piece of cloth, and presses it against the tip, catching all of it.

"Ok, your punishment is halfway over," she says.

"What?" you ask. You thought that was the punishment.

"You like cumming so much, so we're going to do it a few more times until you learn your lesson. How many do you think is good? Two? Three?" she taunts. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle this time."

It seems she's satisfied with the spanking, but she's not going to let you go so soon. She starts her movements again, slowly caressing your penis. It's still very sensitive from your orgasm earlier, so the deliberate strokes are almost maddening. You start to squirm under her grip, and you instinctively try to pull your hips back from her. With her other paw, she grabs you and holds you in place.

"Where do you think you're going? So disobedient. I guess it's kind of cute though," she coos.

As she rubs the soaked fabric against you, drops of semen splatter on the carpet. You can hear the wetness of her hands as your body is worked over again. She drops her head down to your ear.

"Say that you won't do it again," she orders, as she speeds up her paw.

"I won't cum on your panties again," you proclaim.

"That's good. Now say you're sorry," she continues.

"I'm sorry I came on your panties," you apologize.

She gets a glint in her eye as she really starts to milk your cock. "That was a good apology. Now promise me that you'll be a good boy from now on."

"I promise I'll be a good boy," you say.

"Okay. You did good, so you can cum again," she says as her ministrations grow furious.

It only takes a few pumps of her fist to coax your seed out from you. She repeats the act of catching it in her panties and finally releases you. You sit there for a bit as you catch your breath. After that, you manage to get to your feet. She takes the cloth and slips her thumbs through the holes to present them to you.

"Look at what a mess you made. I don't even know if I'll ever be able to get these clean. Hand wash only, you know," she jokes.

A few more large drops fall from it onto the carpet in long strings. She looks down and sees the puddle of cum that she milked out of you.

"We probably need some carpet shampoo too," she says with a laugh. "You're paying for that and cleaning it. And buying me a new pair of underwear. I'll let you choose the ones you like the best though."

She gives you a wink. She then takes the time to wash off her hands and the dirtied undergarments before hanging them up. She sniffs them again.

"I don't think I'm getting the smell out of this," she says as you clean yourself up as well.

After that's been taken care of, the two of you retire to the living room. You decide to ask her a few questions.

"Why'd you leave them out if you knew I was going to do that?" you ask.

"I was just trying to test your self-control. I'm honestly surprised you fell for it. You're too easy," she says. "I might have to be more careful with my traps next time."

She's kind of right, you escalated that so much when you were simply picking up a pair of dirty underwear. It's kind of embarrassing in retrospect. You try to deflect some of the blame onto her to make yourself feel better.

"That was some dirty tactics though," you assert.

"Yep!" she agrees cheerfully. "Try to hold back next time. Or don't. I know you liked the punishment, but it's more fun for me if you manage to control yourself."

You resolve to avoid breaking the decree again. She may get you to slip up again later, but you'll at least manage this week. She takes a look at her phone and notes the time.

"Wow, that took a while. Are you hungry after all that?" she asks.

"Yeah," you reply.

Hopefully, she'll take you somewhere nice again. You can pick up the bill this time. It's a way to apologize, you guess. It's not like she's actually mad at you, but you like to treat your sister.

The two of you hit the sidewalk, ready for a new culinary adventure.

Notes:

ChatGPT helped me come up with the name for the coffee shop.

At first I asked it to generate "hipster cafe names."

They weren't bad enough, so I asked it to make the names more pretentious.

That's how I got "The Cultured Cup."

It's a perfect name. They definitely sell locally made kombucha.

Chapter 7 Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The world spins around you, and all you can see is a tunnel with a light at the end. You rotate along with it, defying gravity. It's almost like one of those rides where you stick to the wall. Sometimes this tunnel will bounce, jostling your body. That kind of hurts a bit. Eventually, it stops, and you dizzily crawl toward the light. As you get closer to the exit, you see a well-cared-for yard. It's your yard. As you exit, you flop onto the grass while Scarlett laughs. She says she wants it to be her turn next.

There's only one object that could cause this. One day your mom brought home a tube. Not just any tube, one of those absolutely massive cardboard tubes that hold commercial-sized amounts of carpet. It was wide enough to fit your young bodies, and at least ten feet long. Luckily it was just light enough for you and Scarlett to carry. Your mom didn't work in that industry, so how she procured it is an absolute mystery.

You and Scarlett push the tube back up the small slope of your backyard until it is at a steady position that won't move. She crawls in, positioning her body directly in the center. Her voice is amplified as she shouts out of the cylindrical opening.

"Go ahead," she says, and you push it down the hill. "WoOoOoo!" she yells in excitement.

You take turns pushing it back up and rolling it down. You get a devious plan and wait for her to get partway in, her legs still outside the tube. You push her off and she yells. Her legs roll on the grass along with the rolling object, causing her to lose a shoe. She's pissed when she exits it.

"That hurt!" she exclaims.

"Sorry, I thought it would be funny," you try to rationalize it.

She ends up forgiving you quickly. The two of you come up with another harebrained way to have fun with it. The tire swing hanging from a tree always provided unending fun, never losing its charm. The both of you insert the tube into the hole in the tire. It somewhat centers itself in the center, but usually droops on one side or the other. The first order of business is to climb on top of it, almost like it's a makeshift surfboard. It allows you to balance it manually, too.

You hop on top and grab the rope while placing your feet on both sides. Scarlett does one of the usual maneuvers with the tire swing, spinning it slowly as the rope gets taut and ready to spin in the other direction. Once she lets go, your torso is pulled away from the center of gravity as you hold on for dear life. As you slow down, you take a minute to regain your senses. The following experiment is pushing the thing. There's a hill underneath you, so you have to angle the tube upwards on every swing.

The tube surfing, as you called it, lasted weeks. In the first rainstorm that summer, it managed to hold due to the thickness of the cardboard. You weren't so lucky the next time. The both of you were as depressed as a child could be. Your mother never found another one, so it was a sweet memory that never happened again.

The details of your relationship were spread on a need-to-know basis with her close friends over the last few weeks. As expected, she lost a few of her friends she considered close to her. Not everyone was as open-minded as the others and said some harsh words to Scarlett. Did this expose who her real friends were? It's not very clear. The ones who opposed your relationship, unfortunately, spread word to some of her more casual friends and acquaintances, and most of them broke contact with her. No one cared that it was assigned by the state, even the ones who supported her. You're not sure if the loss of her support structure depressed her, but she certainly didn't show it. She wasn't ashamed of your marriage, so she was prepared to get it out in the open. She's always been a very honest individual. You feel guilty for affecting her friendships like that, but it's not something that could be kept a secret forever.

She decides to have one of her friends come to visit.

"Hey Anon, we're hanging out with Garbagecan tonight. She really wants to meet you." she declares. That's not too surprising. At least she's being supportive. You have a feeling that she will be too supportive.

The day passes by normally as it can, besides you cooking an actually edible breakfast. She left you to your devices for the first time. It wasn't good, just okay. But that's a huge improvement very quickly. It's a shame you never participated in housework lessons with your dad. He'd probably be an even better teacher than Scarlett, and that's saying a lot. You clean up the dishes, and the rest of the morning passes fairly normally.

Scarlett leaves to go to her class in the afternoon. She really likes making her prints. Recently she's mostly made tote bags. They're good for grocery shopping and her remaining friends love them. You've done some research into heat-pressing vinyl, so you might try and get her an electric cutter for her vinyl projects. It's not cheap, but it would be an amazing surprise. The question is, is she computer savvy enough to use it? You'd probably be able to help her if not. You place an order for a Cricut cutter for her and a heat press. It ran for a few hundred dollars, but her face when she gets it is going to be worth it. Unfortunately, it will also probably raise the frequency of tacky clothing that she'll print out for you. The worst part is that it wouldn't even be a surprise anymore. You'd have to sit through the long process, dreading the end product. You're also concerned that there won't be enough room for it in the apartment.

Scarlett arrives back again, and it seems she made yet another article of clothing for you. Luckily, it's a pair of boxers. They're yellow with randomly placed black hearts looking like spots. It's honestly kind of cute, like regular heart print boxers. And she's the only one who gets to see them anyways, so it's the first gift that she's given you that you actually like.

"Go ahead, try them on," she instructs you.

You drop down your pants, then your underwear. She flashes her eyebrows at you a la Groucho Marx, grin and all. Looks like she's in a playful mood today. You, however, feel like a complete idiot standing there in only a shirt and socks. It's not exactly the sexiest look. You slip on the new pair, and it fits very well. The fabric is nice and breathable. Scarlett claps her hands together in satisfaction.

"It looks great," she comments.

After saying that, she heads into the bedroom to dress down a bit. You grab your pants and pull them back up. She returns to the room, dressed in her artist's smock. Even worse is the beret she's wearing on her head. You're not surprised that she has one, just disappointed. You watch her rearrange her art space, moving the easel in front of the couch. She walks back into the bedroom and fetches a folded white sheet that she places over the back of the seat. You wonder what kind of still life she's going to draw. She grabs a blank canvas and places it on the easel vertically. It looks like she's already done some work on it as it seems there's a little bit of an eggshell color stained into the fabric. She does the thing where you lift your brush in front of your face to gauge distances. She turns to you to speak.

"Okay, take everything off," she commands.

Looks like the thing she wanted to paint was you. Hopefully, she doesn't want to paint your flaccid manhood and show it to the world. You place your clothes on the ground and stand in front of her.

"Lay down on the couch," she says. "Keep your shoulders upright, and let your legs hang over the arms of the couch."

You try your best to conform to her orders, but she has to walk over and adjust your limbs one by one. You're now laying on your side, resting on your elbow. Your other arm is resting on your mid-side, your hand laying on your stomach. The final touch is the sheet draped over you, like a toga. At least she's preserving your modesty. Your chest and midriff are visible though. She takes a floor lamp and moves it right behind the couch to make the lighting a little more dramatic.

"Okay, don't move now," she says.

She gets a serious look of concentration on her face as she starts sketching you with loose, flowing movements in wide arcs. She's looking directly at your face as she paints on the right side of the painting. It seems she's starting with your head. It is kind of strange to see her straight into your eyes in a professional sense. Being a model is definitely a new experience for you. She works her eyes down your body, and you can feel her sharp gaze. She's practically studying you and it makes you feel a bit bashful being looked at like that. You definitely wouldn't be able to do this in a classroom for sure. She sketches the couch, then does a very basic outline of the items surrounding you. You guess that she probably doesn't want to reveal the sad state of her apartment.

She looks over the sketch and starts mixing paints again. Putting in the flat colors, she fills the lines with precise dexterity. As she's drawing the cloth covering your body, you start to feel something strange. Seeing her focus on your lower body so much starts to affect you a bit. You feel a bit violated by her eyes, even though she doesn't feel that way. You try to control it, but you find yourself growing a bit excited. You try to think about the least erotic things you can, but it backfires as you think about Scarlett. Eventually, it starts to touch the fabric. She hasn't noticed yet, but you know if this continues you're going to ruin her painting. Your face starts to turn red as your erection starts to tent again the fabric. She then gets a frustrated expression on her face.

"Anon, stop doing that," she orders.

How are you supposed to just make it go away? She's brought her attention to it, and it makes you feel more self-conscious. It only arouses you more. Are you an exhibitionist now? It sure seems like this at this point. It seems she's actually getting pissed at this point.

"Seriously, you're ruining the portrait," she says, disappointed.

"Let me try. Just give me a bit of time," you say.

She crosses her arms over her chest and starts tapping her foot paw. She's feeling really impatient. You close your eyes and try to relax your body, but it's hopeless. It's kind of her fault for blueballing you so hard over the past few days. It's easier for you to rationalize it that way, even though you feel a bit guilty. It's been a minute or two, and there's been no progress. She stands up and lets out a sigh.

"Fine. Let me take care of it. Don't move at all, or else I'll get really mad," she chides.

"Okay, I promise I won't move," you say.

"You're lucky I haven't started painting the folds in the fabric yet," she says.

She walks over to you and carefully exposes you so that it doesn't displace the fabric much. With that, she grips your manhood way too tightly. Yeah, she's definitely already mad. You make a mental note not to interrupt her when she's making art ever again. Without any warning, she takes you into her mouth, her rough tongue scraping at the bottom. It doesn't exactly feel great, but you still find yourself relishing in the sensation. She swirls her tongue around the tip of it to prepare you for the main action. She stops, and she starts bobbing her head up and down on you at a pretty fast pace. You can feel the speed of it start to abuse your cock, with the sandpapery surface of her tongue. She's really determined to get you to cum as fast as possible. You can feel her lips purse around you as her mouth starts to get more lubricated with her spit. She then pulls her head off of it, with her mouth hanging open, tongue lolling out. Her hand starts to pump and squeeze at your dick as she speaks.

"Hurry up and cum already. I don't have all day," she commands.

"It's not like I can just do it whenever I want, you know," you say defensively.

"You said you would do whatever I say, so do it," she says.

She's pulling that card on you today? It's not like you can do what's impossible. She decides to go on the offensive in return. She takes you fully into her mouth, all the way to the base. You can feel her discomfort at the sensation as she lets out a slight groan. Her sharp teeth poke you a bit in protest. You really wouldn't want her to bite down on you, but this sense of danger is a little exciting. After she gets used to it, she starts to suck you at a moderate pace. Feeling your length completely enveloped by her wet mouth makes your body tense up. It takes so much willpower to keep your position without moving. She turns her head and stares daggers at you. She then returns to her ministrations and speeds up her movements to a wild pace. It's overwhelming as you suck breath in and curl your toes. The stress of the pressure keeping your body in place is starting to hurt. You want this to be over soon as well. Luckily, her efforts manage to bring you to climax as you explode into the back of her throat. She swallows it down greedily, not wasting a single drop. She holds you inside her mouth as she sucks the rest of the cum out of your dick. The post-orgasm torture of her continued stimulation almost drives you mad, until she finally relents, your cock exiting her mouth with a pop. She then wipes the saliva coating her lips with a paw.

"There we go. Don't do it again," she says as she uses her smock to dry your crotch off.

Luckily she didn't smear paint all over you. You're not sure if that would be toxic or not. She waits for you to calm down completely, then returns the sheet to its original position. She practically stomps back to the stool that she was sitting on, and plants her butt firmly onto it. She then takes the palette and paintbrush back into her hand and starts painting again wordlessly. You're really sore by now. You had no idea that modeling was this difficult. Your arms tremble a bit as you support your body. Scarlett doesn't seem to mind much, as she knows how strenuous it can be for your body. You're not the athletic type either, so maybe it's good for you. It's been about an hour since she started and it seems like she's making good progress. She's switched and started mixing black paint into the colors that she started with, so she must be shading it right now. She switches to a much smaller tipped paintbrush and draws fine lines into the canvas. She takes a little bit of time to do this as she blends the shadows in a gradient. The white paint is added after this to create some highlights. It's much faster as she adds little touches to the scene. Now satisfied, she lets you know that you can get off the couch now.

"I'm all finished with your part. I still have to do the background a bit, but I don't want to get really detailed with it," she explains.

"Oof," you groan as you peel yourself free.

You didn't realize how much strain you were putting on yourself until now. You stretch your back as she shoos you away silently since you're standing in front of the scene. You walk to the kitchen and get yourself a drink before standing behind her. There's nowhere to sit since the loveseat is being captured on canvas right now. You watch her closely as she paints. You've casually glanced at her while working before, but you really see how much effort she puts into her art now that you're paying attention. She paints fine lines with such precision, it almost looks like she's a printer or something. The way she blends the paints is visually appealing, with a fine gradient that suddenly cuts into a shadow or highlights. It's very striking. It's called chiaroscuro, you believe. The colors pop a bit more than expected, with an exaggerated saturation. With this, the soft orange glow of the lamp makes the picture look warm. The background is a bit fuzzy, almost like it was a photo with a shallow depth of field. It's simultaneously realistic but with a lot of impressionistic influence. It would look great in a gallery, you think. If the subject was anyone but you.

"Wow, that looks great," you compliment Scarlett.

"Thanks, but I'm still working on it," she replies.

"Do you think anyone will buy it? I mean, it's me," you ask.

"Buy it? I'm not selling this anywhere. It's going on the wall," she states. "And I think you're plenty handsome anyways."

That's pretty flattering, but you have to wonder where it would even fit on the wall. It's already littered with artwork, hers, and other pieces. It also feels a bit vain to have a portrait of yourself inside your own domicile. It also clashes horribly with the atmosphere of the apartment.

"That would be a little bit weird to have a picture of myself," you say bashfully.

"Well, I'm putting it up anyways. I'm proud of this painting. I'll be making more of them, so get used to it," she states.

Your back is already protesting the idea of modeling again.

"Just don't hang it in the bedroom. I don't want to look at a picture of myself when we're doing it," you say.

She gives you a nod. You think the only thing that would be worse is having a mirror on the ceiling or something.

She continues painting in silence, and you watch, mesmerized. It's almost therapeutic, in a way. Maybe you should try picking up a pencil too. She finishes it eventually and leaves it to dry. She managed to get everything in one layer of paint. That's impressive. The two of you share a light dinner before relaxing for a bit.

"So you said we're hanging out with your friend, right? Where are we going?" you ask.

"She's coming over here. She doesn't mind cramped spaces at all, and she's usually more broke than I am," she explains.

"Well, it's probably for the best then," you say.

"I think you'll have fun with her. We might end up going out anyways if she's feeling kind of rowdy," she says. "Hopefully at a bar, but she has no fear of drinking in public."

"Is that a good idea?" you ask.

"No. You should see how many times she's been taken to the station. She's practically infamous," she says with a laugh. "She won't cause too much trouble here, though. She's plenty respectful with other people's things."

"That's good. When's she coming over, anyways?" you inquire.

Scarlett pulls out her phone, unsure of what time it is. "No idea. She just kind of shows up whenever," she explains. All of a sudden, her phone buzzes from a text.

"i'm here" it reads.

She's right about showing up unannounced. Scarlett goes up and walks to the door, unlocking it and letting Garbagecan in. She takes a few steps in, obviously already comfortable in the apartment. She hugs Scarlett before walking into the living room. She reaches over into a corner and pulls out one of those horrible metal folding chairs and sets it down. You had no idea where Scarlett was hiding it, but that seems to be the case with a lot of things. It's unfolded and placed down on the floor, facing the loveseat. You stand up to greet her.

"So you're little brother, right?" she asks.

"Yeah, I'm Anon," you say.

Without warning, she reaches over to hug you too, lifting you up and spinning you around. It's effortless for her with all the height she has on you. She's the touchy-feely type it seems. It's kind of refreshing in a way. She's not ashamed to show her affection to her friends. No toxic femininity here. She kind of smells though. Less of an unwashed wolf, more like someone spilled malt liquor on her, mixed with the smell of cigarette butts. Do all of Scarlett's friends stink in some way?

You look over her, and she's in punk garb unsurprisingly. The difference from the picture is that she's dyed her mane a bright green. It's practically neon. It clashes vibrantly with her off-white fur. That's probably the point, though. It runs all the way from her eyebrows and down her neck. You're pretty sure it goes all the way down. She sits roughly on the uncomfortable chair, leaning back with a groan. You get a better look at what she's wearing. She's got on a pair of jeans with so many rips in them, that you don't know how they haven't fallen apart yet. They seem tight enough that they're just a ticking time bomb. You can see some black and white striped leggings peeking through the tears. She's got on some high-cut black boots with raised soles. Probably, Doc Martens, you assume. She removes her leather jacket, and she that she's wearing a sleeveless shirt cut with scissors at the midriff. It cuts right through whatever band logo was there. Topping everything off is a pair of suspenders digging into her impressive chest. She definitely doesn't need them, but you guess she just wanted to look cool. She slips them off her shoulders, letting them hang freely.

"You're Garbagecan, right?" you ask.

"Yep, the one and only. Well, in this city at least," she says proudly.

Scarlett sits down, not even bothering to introduce you. She grabs something to drink for you two, just a set of beers. She didn't even ask if Garbagecan needed one, and just assumed. She sips on it, reclining as Scarlett gets settled next to you.

"So why are you called Garbagecan?" you ask, too curious not to.

"It's not too interesting of a story. Passed out in a dumpster when I was like fifteen. Drank too many mad dog 20/20s. That, and how much I go dumpster diving. The name stuck," she explains.

"I was always wondering the same thing," Scarlett says.

"It works for me as a vocalist for my band. Maggot Militia! Come see us sometime," she says.

You're not much into punk rock, but it might be fun. You need to meet some people anyways.

"It's fun Anon," Scarlett says, surprising you a bit. Doesn't seem much like her scene.

"I'll give it a try sometime," you say.

"So whatcha been up to, Scar?" she asks.

"Same old, same old. Things haven't changed as much as I thought they would after getting married," she states "I'm a lot happier now, though."

You and Garbagecan smile at her.

"That's good to hear," she says. "I always want the best for my friends."

She pulls a tiny hotel-sized bottle out of her jacket and pounds it down, chasing it with a swig of beer. She really wants to drink today, it seems. She then leans forward on her knees before speaking.

"So I heard through the grapevine that some of the girls had a problem with you and little brother being together. Fuckin' wack," she says, disappointed.

"Yeah," Scarlett continues. "I don't know if I'm happy that it went better than expected, or sad that I lost so many friends."

You put a hand on her shoulder. Looks like she was hiding her feelings for your sake.

"I'm sorry, Scarlett," you apologize. You don't really know how to console her more.

"Don't worry about it, Anon," she says, cheering up a bit.

Garbagecan seems to notice that she brought the mood down a bit and decides to make a joke.

"Hey, now you know how it feels to get canceled," she says. "You're a part of the club now."

Scarlett lets out a laugh after that.

"Here, drink one of these." Scarlett accepts one of the little bottles, then drinks it down causing her to wince.

"God, these are awful," she remarks.

"You're just weak," Garbagecan jokes.

The three of you sit there, and it turns out Garbagecan is a little deeper than the first impression that you got from her. She may spend a lot of time talking about her critiques of the State, but it seems she's a lot more well-informed than you'd expect some anarchist to be. You imagine she'd accomplish a lot if she actually decided to do something productive. She's doing what makes her happy, so that's good enough for you. You don't know where she's been hiding all these shooters, but she's put down a lot of them at this point. It looks like she can hold her liquor pretty well, but her lips have gotten looser and she's definitely louder.

"Hey, I'm gonna smoke a cigarette," she says. "I can just lean out the window, right?"

Scarlett sighs and relents. She pops open the window in your shared bedroom and sits with you while Garbagecan puffs on her cigarette. Scarlett turns to you and whispers.

"See, I told you that you'd like her," she says.

"Yeah, I'm having fun," you agree, and Scarlett leans into you.

She makes her way back into the room and sits back down. She seems pretty relaxed as she leans back in her chair, watching the two of you. She suddenly gets a salacious grin on her face.

"Man, it sure is cute how close you and little brother here are," she says.

Scarlett gets a suspicious look on her face.

"A few weeks now," you respond.

"Hmm," she thinks it over a bit. "That's kinda hot. Brother and sister at the same time. C'mon Scar, I'm good at sharing. But I want a package deal anyways."

Either she's getting drunk, or she's been planning to hit on you guys from the very beginning. Maybe a little bit of both.

"So how long have you been together?" she asks.

She pushes her chest out.

"I guarantee you that you'll like it," she says more to Scarlett and less to you.

You notice that she's not wearing a bra and that her nipples are very hard. It looks like Scarlett notices.

"Your headlights are on. Keep it in your pants. You can't be horny all the time," Scarlett says, more amused than anything. "And quit looking so hard Anon."

You weren't really looking that hard, but you feel guilty for some reason.

"What about having me watch? Or a video would be nice. I wouldn't share it," Garbagecan asks.

"Good try, but no dice," Scarlett says.

Garbagecan shrugs while sitting in her seat.

"I had to try and spice your life up a little bit," she says. "But I won't push it. Hopefully, you guys will come around on your own."

With that, she gets up and starts to walk to the two of you. Leaning down, she puts her arms around the both of you in a group hug.

"Alright guys, I have to go," she informs you. "Next time I see you, I want it to be at one of my shows."

"Sounds good. We'll see you next time," Scarlett replies.

She walks Garbagecan to the door and locks the door behind her. Walking back to you, she takes you into her arms and starts to carry you to the bedroom. It is pretty late, and she did have a few drinks. As you lay down together, Scarlett decides to talk to you a bit.

"I told you she'd try to rope us into a threesome," she jokes. "She's a great lady, but she needs to calm down sometimes. She's always going at one hundred percent in everything she does."

"It is pretty impressive. I wasn't sure before, but I like her," you state. "Not in that way, though."

"Good. Because I'm not sharing you with anyone, even if you want to," she says as she pulls you closer to her.

"Oh!" she exclaims as she just remembered something. "I forgot to tell you."

"What is it?" you ask. It doesn't seem like it's anything bad.

"So, I had a look at my bank account and it's looking a bit bare," she laments. "So I'm not sure if we can keep all your stuff in the storage unit anymore."

"Yeah, where else could we keep it though? I don't think I could even fit a book in here," you say sarcastically.

"So the only free place would be back home..." she says cautiously. "You're sure Dad's okay with us?"

That is a very good question. It's going to be awkward as hell, but at least he understands.

"I think he is," you reply.

"What about Mom?" she asks.

You didn't think about that. Surely your father told her already. If she had a problem with this, she'd call, right? You're not too sure, because she's the type to stew in silent anger. It's either that or she's still trying to reserve her judgment until she gets to think it over. She might also be in purposeful denial. Sometimes, she'd rather pretend something isn't happening rather than face it head-on. She doesn't have a problem with conflict most times, but something big like this would be something that makes her freeze.

"I don't know yet. She hasn't called, but Dad had to have told her. She hasn't blown up at us yet, so that's probably a good sign," you say, trying to ease Scarlett's worries.

"Yeah, you're right. Better to deal with this now rather than later anyways," she assures herself.

"I'll ask Dad tomorrow if we can drop by. Maybe we can get everything in one trip, or just rent a truck," you say.

"Okay," she says, hugging you for comfort.

With that, you start to doze off, the excitement of the day tiring you. You push the anxiety out of your head and relax.

Notes:

They're drinking 99 Watermelons, if you're curious. It's absolutely vile, but it's 99-proof and a dollar per shooter. A lot of the other flavors will definitely make you want to puke. Chase it down with an energy drink to turn it into fight juice. Try them sometime if you're poor like me!

Chapter 8 Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Scarlett getting a car might have been a terrible idea. She may be fifteen now, but she's much less mature than her age would suggest. It's convenient for your parents since they don't have to get up early anymore to drive you to school. Her driving skills aren't horrible, but she's a bit too fond of parking lot donuts. She's always blasting music super loud too. At least she's having a lot of fun. She really enjoys driving you around the city, windows rolled down you the two of you can enjoy the weather. She even sometimes has enough allowance to take you to get some ice cream. She really does take care of you all the time.

Your parents gave her your father's car after buying him a new one. Her first car is an old SUV with a hitch at the back. This was the second mistake. It doesn't have a four-wheel drive, which is a nightmare when the roads start to get frosty. And the shocks are spent too, every bump making a trip like a carnival ride. Eventually, the snow does roll around, and she's taken to pulling powerslides around the corners of your neighborhood. It's nice and sleepy so there's not a ton of danger involved in it. You're having a blast. She then comes up with an even better idea. She parks the car in the house's driveway and goes into the garage to fetch something. It looks like she grabbed those sleds that you've had since childhood, but only one of them.

"Are we about to go to the park or something Shouldn't you grab the other one?" you ask.

"We're doing something even better than that. Check this out," she boasts.

She hops into the car and reverses it into the street. After straightening out the car again, she hops out leaving it idle. She places the sled behind the car, and you can see that there was a roll of rope hidden behind the sled. Now you understand what she was planning. She loops the rope securely into the handles. The bottoms of your sleds are nice smooth plastic, so they're plenty aerodynamic enough. Now that the sled is firmly tied, she runs the rope around her hitch, looping it over and over again so that it won't come loose. She gets back in the driver's seat.

"Stay there and watch. We have to see if this works first," she commands.

She starts to drive through the neighborhood at a slow speed, eventually picking up to twenty miles an hour or so. The sled stays attached, but not quite upright. You're sure some weight on the top would solve that problem, though. She pulls a U-turn and rolls up to you slowly.

"So how was it? You want to try now?" she asks.

You're excited beyond belief. "Yeah! It looks so fun!"

You hop on the sled, and Scarlett peeks her head out of the window to look at you. She rolls along slowly at first, gauging the safety of this stunt. She gradually slows down to a stop to see how much momentum the sled will retain. Most of it, you find out. Luckily at that speed, you just mildly bump into the rear of the car.

"Tell me when you want to stop, and I'll slow down," she informs you.

"Okay!" you reply.

Now satisfied with the ride, she lets herself reach a decent cruising speed, dragging you in tow for the best ride of your life. Running out of a straight path, she slows down just a touch and pulls a sharp turn, her back wheels sliding to readjust themselves. It seems she skipped her physics lessons because you retain your momentum forward. The rope stays taut as you swing from the anchor like a pendulum. You swing the opposite way now, and you're thrown several feet sideways into the snow. It's pretty deep, and your snowsuit cushions everything, so it's actually a fun experience for you. Scarlett jumps out of the car after parking it and is very concerned to see you splayed out in the snow.

"Anon! Are you okay?" she asks in a panic.

"That was amazing, we gotta do that again," you shout.

Seeing this, she smiles and tells you to prepare for the ride of your life. Now confident that you won't get hurt, she speeds up and tries to draw out her turns as long as possible. It lets the arc of your swing a little more manageable. Sometimes you can even manage to hold on and keep your sled on the ground. The two of you spend a few hours doing this before heading back for some rest.

"Anon, when you get old enough to drive, I'll have you pull me around on the sled," she says.

"Okay, I promise I will!" you say with conviction.

The two of you spent many days that winter doing this over and over again. Your parents were pretty apprehensive at first, but after seeing it in action they relent. Your mother even goes for a ride herself before bailing out. Good things can't last forever, and the snow melts. It becomes a distant memory that will have to wait until next winter.

But does it really have to wait?

This is where mistake number three happens. It's the summertime, so the two of you get to enjoy a long break together. Scarlett lets you know that she came up with another way to play with her car. She grabs a virtually untouched mountainboard from the garage. You remember this thing. Your mom bought it for you, and you could never get it fast enough for it to be any fun. That was about to change very quickly. She hooks it up in the same way that she did to the sled and gives it a test run to check out any differences. It seems safe, maybe even safer due to the grip the tires have on the pavement. You're way less likely to slide and tip over around corners. You go put on all the safety equipment you have, and even though you look like a dork all suited up, this is a situation where its use was critical.

"I'll drive really carefully. Just yell if anything's wrong," she tells you.

You sit your butt down on top of the board and pull your knees up into your chest. You wrap your fingers around the board to keep you attached to it. She then starts to pull you around again for a while, turning very cautiously the whole time. Her driving has been flawless, and you haven't felt any fear of tipping over or being thrown from the board. This continues for maybe an hour or so, and it seems like this is flawless. You can feel the road a lot more from the all-terrain tires, every bump igniting the daredevil inside you. You're not sure if these things are supposed to reach these speeds, but it hasn't protested at all so far. Your luck is about to run out, though.

This time, you're the one who makes a fatal mistake. Much like a skateboard, a mountainboard has curved ends to facilitate jumps and such. The wheels act like a lever when you put weight onto the ends. You go for another trip around the neighborhood, but you fail to realize that you're leaning back too hard until it's too late. The board of course tips back, and your back starts to drag along the ground. You're still somewhat sitting on the board so you're having trouble jumping off. Luckily, Scarlett hears your extreme shouts of pain and comes to a stop as quickly as she can. She runs out to you and sees that you're on the ground, bawling.

"What happened?!" she exclaims.

All you can do is roll over onto your stomach. You can feel the wetness and feeling of raw flesh, but you can't really look at it when it's on your back like this.

"Oh my god! Just wait here, I'll get Dad!" she says, sprinting to the house. Luckily you aren't too far and the two of them rush out.

"What the fuck Scarlett! What were you thinking? Come here Anon, we have to get those washed off," he says as he drags you along.

That's one of the few times you've ever heard your father curse. He didn't even hold back his language around you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," she utters quietly.

You're practically tossed into the shower, and you can feel pebbles get unlodged from your back as the water turns red. Having the wounds all soaped up feels horrible, but you manage to withstand the pain. It takes a while to get the bleeding to stop since it's so hard to apply pressure to that large an area, but it eventually subsides. It takes an entire tube of Neosporin to cover the surface, and your back is a mess of gauze taped on.

Your Dad chides you a bit, just telling you to think before you do something that might be dangerous. Poor Scarlett gets the worst of it though. Not only is she older, she's also a girl. She gets taken aside and lectured for hours. You don't hold anything against her, but you definitely don't want to try that ever again.

It took weeks for the scabs to peel off on their own.

The scars only disappeared a year or two ago.

Standing in the kitchen while Scarlett sleeps in, you eat a bowl of cereal before deciding to call your family. You call your father first since he's always been the understanding type. It rings for a bit before he picks up.

"Hey Dad, it's Anon," you say. "Can we move some of my stuff into the garage? We can't afford to pay for a storage unit anymore."

Your father says something, but his mouth is too far away from the mouthpiece to hear.

"Dad? Put the phone to your mouth," you yell at him.

"Okay, can you hear me now?" he asks.

"Yeah, we're good now. So is it okay if me and Scarlett come over?" you ask.

"Of course, you're welcome here. The garage should have a lot of free space after I cleaned it out," he says.

"How soon is okay? Can you do tomorrow by any chance?" you inquire.

"That should be fine. I'll make sure I have dinner ready for everyone. It's been so long since both of you have been home," he says. "Make sure you spend some time here. I won't let you leave without getting some quality time with us."

"We will, Dad," you assure him.

"Good. Now that I have you on the phone, tell me about how you've been doing," he demands.

"We're doing just fine. I got to meet some of Scarlett's friends. They're weird, but pretty nice overall," you note.

"I'm glad that she's doing well in the city. I have to ask though, is uh, your..." He's not quite sure how to word it without making himself uncomfortable. "Your arrangements. How did they react?"

"Pretty okay. I guess people are progressive nowadays," you reply, not wanting to get into the nitty-gritty details and make him sad.

"How about money? I know Scarlett can't afford to take care of both of you. She can't even afford a storage unit. What is that, fifty bucks a month?" he says derisively.

"In a city like this, it's like a hundred dollars. It's not like she can't afford it, but it's hard to justify. We already have to rent a moving truck," you reply.

"Good thing you've got us here, then. We'll send you some money for the truck, and probably some extra for the road," he says.

He always was a softie. You feel kind of bad leeching off of him, but it's nice to know that they care.

"Thanks, Dad. I'm sure Scarlett will appreciate it too," you say.

"Where is she, anyways? Can you put her on the phone?" he asks.

"She's still asleep," you say plainly.

"What? It's like three PM!" he says incredulously.

"It took a while for me to get used to it as well. She's picked up some bad habits it seems," you inform him.

"I guess I'll let her sleep in. She never called me, so I wanted to talk to her," he laments. "But I'll be able to see you guys tomorrow. It's always better to see you in person than over the phone anyways."

"It sure is. I have to ask a question though. How is Mom?" you ask nervously.

"She's fine, just fine," he blurts out, practically interrupting you. That's not a good sign. "Her job's going well, and her health is great, even with her vices."

"That's great to hear, but you know that's not what I mean," you speak directly.

He sighs, no longer able to avoid the subject. "I told her, of course. She didn't believe me at first, but eventually, I convinced her. She hasn't brought it up even once. Probably not a good sign," he says sadly. "She won't even talk to me about it..."

"Well, I guess we'll find out tomorrow. Let her know that we're coming over, and tell us if she gets in a mood. It's always rough when she gets mad," you admit.

"I'm sure it'll be fine son. Let me know when you're on the way tomorrow. Try to get Scarlett up at a decent hour this time," he says.

"I will. Love you, Dad," you say.

"Love you too, son," he says before hanging up the phone.

You decide enough is enough, and you go wake up Scarlett to the best of your ability. You found the trick to it that doesn't involve fire. You have to shake her really hard. So you do, and she rises. You get coffee brewing while she eats her own cereal.

"So I just called Dad a little bit ago," you inform her.

"Yeah, and what did he say?" she asks.

"Not a whole lot. I told him we'd be by tomorrow to drop everything off," you say

"What? Tomorrow? Isn't that kind of soon?" she asks.

"It's not like you have anything to do," you say teasingly. "And it's already set in stone now. Dad will kill me if I don't drag you along."

"Fine. We'll get a U-haul tomorrow," she relents.

The rest of the day passes normally, but the apprehension of what could happen on your visit home looms over your head. You both try to act like it isn't bothering you, but it's obviously clear. There's not much point in talking about it anyways. You'll just work yourselves up. At bedtime, it takes a while for you to fall asleep, but you eventually manage.

You're up very early the next day. You look at your phone and see that it's five in the morning. It wasn't the most restful sleep. Surprisingly, Scarlett seems to be waking up as well. She's visibly exhausted, but she still turns to you.

"Morning," she says.

"Yeah, good morning. You're up early," you note, even though you know the reason why.

"I'll say. Want to get a head start on the day?" she asks.

"That might be a good idea. I don't know if you noticed, but Dad sent us money for everything," you tell her.

She smiles. "That's good. I always need the help from them. I feel kind of bad about it, but I'm never going to say no."

She's not that reluctant, you note. It's not like it's easy for an artist to be independent. She must have begged them for money before. She is a model child though, so it probably doesn't bother your parents that much. They definitely have money to spare.

"I don't think the rental place opens up for another few hours. He sent us some extra cash, want to go out for breakfast?" you propose.

"That sounds good," she says.

The two of you head to her favorite coffee shop again. She probably just likes it so much because they accept so much art from people like her. You have to admit, it is pretty good, so it's grown on you a lot. You spend a lazy morning with her just going over your plans for the day. The doors for the rental office open fairly soon after you finalize your schedule. It's a bit too far to walk to the office, so the two of you catch a ride on the metro. Somehow, they have vehicles available even without reserving one. You don't have a ton of stuff, so rent a cargo van instead of one of the bigger box vans. Scarlett's the one who ends up driving it, with her having a bit more experience than you, to your knowledge at least. You find out that you might have been wrong. It's not like you've had any experiences with larger vehicles, but you think you could do a better job than her. Defensive driving is good and all, but you have to be aggressive to get anywhere in this city. Ambling around this slowly has earned her a lot of middle fingers. She's probably only used to suburban roads. You finally arrive at the storage unit, and you pull the van in next to the garage door.

When you pull up the door, you realize how few possessions you had actually saved. You managed to dispose of most of your furniture for a handful of cash on an online marketplace. It's definitely only going to be one trip. That's a relief. With both of you there, it only takes thirty minutes or so to get everything loaded. There's a bit of free space left in the van, so you're going to have to drive carefully so you won't bash the boxes around.

"Hey, Scarlett? Do you have anything that you can store too?" you ask. It's more to get the apartment less cluttered, but you word it so that it seems that you're just trying to keep the van full.

"Hmm... No, not really. I need everything that I have at home," she says.

That was a bust, but you suppose she is kind of right. She does need easels and canvases to work after all. Maybe not three easels though. You're definitely not going to convince her otherwise, though. You drop the subject and park the van near the office. You turn in the keys to your unit at the front desk, and you prepare to depart for your destination.

"Do you want me to drive?" you ask her.

"No, I'll be fine. Just relax and enjoy the ride," she says.

Relax isn't the word you'd use for it. Trying to drive through downtown at this time in the morning is a nightmare too, as traffic crawls at an almost standstill. It's an agonizing wait until you finally get to the outskirts of the city. She finally starts driving at an appropriate speed down the highway. It must've just been the cramped roads that were giving her trouble. There's not much to talk about, so Scarlett turns on the radio to some top 40's station, mostly to cover the silence. You're not too interested in the music, so you look out the window at the scenery. It's mostly farmland, so your try to look for any livestock around. You barely see even a single cow or horse. The farmers here must be focused on agriculture more. There are forests scattered about, and the trees whiz by you as she drives along.

Eventually, you start to see more recognizable landmarks. You're approaching home. Exiting the freeway, you enter a small commercial area full of nostalgic restaurants and shops. Scarlett starts to grow excited upon seeing them. It's been quite a while since she's returned home.

"Hey, Peppy's is still here," she points out the old diner that's seemingly been there forever.

"We should go on our way back," you suggest.

"That sounds great," she agrees.

The two of you drive through the area before the buildings around you start to become more residential. There are a lot of McMansions in this area. Thank god you two never grew up in one of those. Growing children need more than a few square feet of grass that they call a backyard. You pass by several more gated communities before you finally see your neighborhood. It's not the most luxurious place, but it's friendly and safe. That's about all you can ask for. As Scarlett pulls into the driveway, you realize that you forgot to tell your dad that you left. You pull out your phone to give him a call.

"Hey, Dad. We're outside," you say.

You see him through the window. He pulls the smartphone away from his face, and you see him start to walk to the front door. It opens, and he comes strolling out. You exit the car so you can greet him.

"I told you to let me know when you were on the way!" he scolds you in mock anger.

"Sorry, I completely forgot about it. Maybe you can think of it as a surprise?" you joke.

"Well, I'm surprised enough. Come here," he says as he ushers you into a hug. He then follows up with the same treatment for Scarlett. "Come inside."

He tries to get you to follow him, but you have to remind him of the original purpose of this trip.

"We have to unpack first. Better to get it out of the way," Scarlett says.

Your father gives you a look of understanding. "Okay, I'll go get your mother to help you guys out. You know how strong she is," he says as he starts for the house.

You and Scarlett grab a load of boxes and take them to the garage. On the way back, you see that your mother has arrived to help you out. You can't quite place the expression on her face.

"Hey, kids. Welcome back," she says cooly.

You're not sure if that is the best response, but at least she doesn't seem to be angry. She always was a little emotionally distant, but she was able to let you know how proud she was of you two. She's just not a touchy parent. She picks up a large stack of boxes and starts to carry them away as well.

"Hi Mom," the both of you say. She gives you an unreadable smile as she places them down.

With three people, you finish unloading everything extremely quickly. Your mother locks up the garage for you.

"There we go. We always have more space if you two need it," she offers.

"Thanks, we'll let you know," you reply.

"Let's get inside. I'm sure your dad is making lunch right about now," she says as she strolls back into the house.

The two of you follow her and see that she was right. There are some lovely club sandwiches that your father managed to whip up in a flash. It's impressive how fast he can improvise in the kitchen. You'd do well to learn from him.

"Those look great, thanks," you say.

Everyone sits at the table and enjoys their sandwiches over some small talk. Most of it is just asking about Scarlett's art and how both of you are doing in the city. You mention that Scarlett's surrounded by great people and that she's really shown you some cool places. Your father looks pleased.

"That sounds like so much fun," your dad says. He looks to your mother and continues "We should go out to the city sometime too. It's been a long time."

"I think I'll be able to work it into my schedule," your mother jokes. "So they have Korean food down there now? I haven't had any since I was stationed there."

She doesn't bring it up that often, but she was in the Anthrostate Armed Forces. From what she's told you about it, it was really uneventful. There's not much for a soldier to do in peacetime, and it's lasted for decades now at this point. It's probably what made your Mom such a hardass, but she's never been too crazy with the tough love stuff.

"You know the Koreans make a stew with Spam in it? It tastes a lot better than it sounds," she adds.

She always likes to tell stories about all the countries she's visited. It's just another thing you missed being away from home. It's just like old times, and there doesn't seem to be any conflict brewing. Yet. Everyone's still avoiding the elephant in the room. You're not going to complain though. It's better to take things slowly for now. The meal ends peacefully, so you and Scarlett look around the house to see if anything has changed. You two eventually make it to the backyard, and from the deck, you can see the tire swing still hanging. The two of you take a look at it but realize there's a ton of stagnant rainwater pooling at the bottom of the tire. It looks like neither of you is going to touch that thing today. It's practically a mosquito nursery at this point.

You keep walking further, cutting through your neighbor's yards to reach that old familiar clearing in the woods. They never minded before, and they still probably don't even though you're fully grown adults. Scarlett's definitely not dressed to go hike through some shrubs, but she manages to get through unscathed with your help. There are some unfortunate dirt streaks from the branches on her clean clothes, but that's what a washing machine is for. Taking a few steps forward you see the creek that you practically grew up in. It's looking a lot shallower and slower nowadays.

"It looks like it's not doing so good..." Scarlett says. "Maybe it just looked bigger when we were kids?"

That's probably not true, but it's an optimistic way to look at it.

"I think it's probably a weather thing. I'm sure it'll be nice and deep the next time we come back," you comment. "It's probably just dry right now, or the streambed is absorbing too much water."

"I'm okay with it being like this, though. The water looks so much cleaner than usual," she says as she steps out of her shoes. "Come on, get in. It feels great."

You join her to wade in the cool gentle flow of water. It can barely reach your ankles at this height, but it's almost like a footbath or something. The bed of the creek could use some improvement though. The stones at the bottom might be nicely rounded from erosion, but they still press into your soles. Having human feet is definitely a disadvantage most times. She starts to wade upstream like you used to, and you can see her eyes scanning the floor of the water. Is she looking for some critters again? The water gets a touch deeper, and you're glad that you're wearing shorts. Tiny minnows dart away from your steps as you make your way up the path. Skipping and making small splashes, Scarlett zig-zags across the creek. You eventually reach that part of the water where it suddenly grows wide and drops off to deeper waters. That's the cue for both of you to head back. You're not trying to get soaked. It doesn't take too long for you to return to the bank where your shoes are resting. You don't want to get your only pair of socks wet, so both of you sit down on a fallen tree.

"That was fun, wasn't it? Just like old times," you tell Scarlett.

"It really was," she says with a wistful expression. "I've been wanting to do this again for a really long time."

"Well, we can from now on," you mention.

She takes your hand into hers and softly kisses you. The sound of the babbling brook fades as your senses intertwine with hers. It seems to last forever, but still not long enough. A loving smile is painted on her face for a moment before she decides to speak.

"I think our legs are dry now. Let's get back before they start worrying about us," she suggests.

The two of you make your way back, albeit with a lot more dirt stains on you. You cut through the same yard again, and you see your neighbor watering her lawn. She's gotten a lot older, but she still waves at you cheerfully while chuckling at your antics. You both wave back at her as you jog back to your house. The both of you take off your shoes so you won't track any dirt into the house. Your parents notice your return.

"Where were you two? And how'd you get so dirty?" your father asks. He's always been the type to try and coddle both of you, but it's all out of love.

"We went to the old creek again," Scarlett replies.

Your mother chuckles. "Come on guys, you're in your twenties now," she chides the two of you.

"You're never too old to have fun," your dad retorts. "That's why I always have to drag you out of the house."

"I hate to admit it, but you're right. I can barely remember a time when I regretted doing something with you. And the times when I did, it wasn't your fault at all," she admits. "Except for that one time. I'll never let you live that down."

You're definitely curious as to what they're referring to, but you wouldn't want to intrude on their inside joke. It's nice to see them get along so well after all these years. It feels weird to call your parent's relationship cute, but it's the wholesomeness of it that warms your heart. It's the same feeling that you get when you see an extremely elderly couple help each other cross the street. A part of you wonders if you and Scarlett will be like that someday, but you're pretty confident you will be.

Your dad gets up and starts for the kitchen. It seems like there are a few hours until dinnertime, so you follow him to ask him what he's doing. You definitely haven't made anything that takes such a long time to cook.

"You starting dinner?" you ask.

"Mmmhm. Pot roast. I knew you guys loved it, so I went out to get a roast," he explains.

"Can I help? I'm trying to learn how to cook," you ask.

Your Dad looks absolutely shocked before it turns into a giddy smile.

"I wasted all these years trying to get you to learn, and now you're the one asking me," he continues. "I'll show you. Don't expect my lesson to be easy though. I have to drill an entire life's worth of training into you."

He's definitely just bluffing for fun, but you're happy that he's enjoying it this much. You get to find a new way to bond with him that you've never had before. You're a bit worried about leaving Scarlett with your mom, though. You really hope it'll be fine.

"Is it alright to leave them in there, though?" you ask your dad for advice.

"Don't worry about it. Mothers and daughters have to have time together too. If anything, your mom will just end up pouring some whiskey for her," he says. "Neither of them is looking to have a fight."

That's probably true. It would completely spoil the wonderful mood in the house, and both of them have more tact than to start trouble. You really wonder what your mom's opinions are on the matter still. You doubt it's positive at all.

"I believe you. So, where do we start?" you change the subject.

He pulls out an absolutely massive Dutch oven. You can hear how heavy it is just from the sound it makes from being placed on the countertop.

"Slow cookers have nothing on this baby. You're going to learn how to do this the right way," he declares.

He places a cutting board out for you, and your battle begins.

For such a seemingly luxurious dish, it actually seems pretty simple to make. It's mostly time more than anything. While you and your dad are waiting for it to cook, he instructs you on a lot of other specialties of his and pulls out the family cookbook. It's two generations old at this point. Clippings from newspapers, the sides of boxes, and handwritten recipes are all in the binder. Everything is under a plastic sleeve to preserve them. Some of these papers look like they'd turn into dust from the slightest breeze.

"I think I'm done with this. All my recipes are in here already," he states casually. "It'd be much better for you to have it."

He sets it aside for you to take home later.

"Wow, should I really take this already? Shouldn't I wait or something?" you ask in disbelief.

"Well, you're bad at cooking, so you probably need it. Just don't damage it or else I'll make you regret that you were born," he says with an unsettling seriousness.

He's very much a pacifist and a kind soul, so his threat actually scares you.

"I wouldn't let that happen," you promise.

He seems satisfied with your response and nods thoughtfully.

"Let's go check on them while we wait," he suggests.

As you enter, you see that your dad's prediction was right on the money. Mostly. Your mom has loosened up a bit from the brown liquor, so she's grilling Scarlett on her choice of career. There are worse topics to talk about and Scarlett seems pretty used to it. She just kind of nods most of the time and interjects occasionally about how she just needs her big break. She's definitely good enough, but she is rubbing shoulders with the wrong spectrum of artists. Psychedelic potheads, rowdy bands, and people who live off Etsy sales are not going to get her in a fancy gallery. Your dad is the one to change the topic.

"Cut it out. You have to be supportive, not talk down to her. It's a 'real' job you know," she scolds your mom.

"You're right. I'm just saying this because I'm worried about you. You should still go to trade school though. Welding, machining, and blacksmithing can create art too. You should see what one of the girls at the shop makes," she says, trying to get one last word out.

She's always been stubborn. It probably helps her out at her union a lot, but she's practically married to it with how much work she puts into it. She's convinced of the superiority of learning a trade compared to anything else.

"I know Mom. Just give me a bit of time to work on it. I won't be too old to wait a few years if this doesn't pan out," Scarlett compromises.

Both of your parents seem satisfied enough with this, and the conversation lightens up a lot. It doesn't take too long for the timer your dad set to go off, and you pull the pot out of the oven. It's even heavier with pounds of food in it. You take off the lid and see that everything is still simmering in its juices. It smells great. After letting it sit for a few minutes, you're able to portion out enough for everyone, with a lot left over for seconds. The dinner conversation is sparse as everyone enjoys their food. Your dad helps you clean the table after everyone's done.

"I'll make sure you two get some leftovers to take home," he promises. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't stay the night though. I won't let you drive all the way back when it's this dark."

That's a bad excuse, but you'll play along. "I'm sure Scarlett wouldn't mind staying either," you assure him.

You leave your dad to his chores and go meet your other family members in the living room. Scarlett beams when she sees you.

"All done, Anon? Let's do something fun. We can get a bonfire started," she says entirely too quickly. She must be trying to relive every nostalgic memory that she can today. Your mom tells you to have fun as you head to the backyard. You go to the homemade firepit, just bricks in a circle, and walk around with Scarlett looking for some firewood. You find some after some searching around with your phone's flashlight. You pile everything inside the pit and get some tinder to try and light it. You're not too successful, so Scarlett intervenes and does it for you. The fire's soon roaring, and you sit together on a log facing the firepit. She seems a bit down as leans her body into you.

"Maybe I should go to a trade school. I've got to take care of you now," she muses.

"I don't care what you do as long as you're happy," you state.

"Thanks for putting up with me," she continues.

"I'm with you because I want to, you know," you say. "I think you're letting Mom get into your head a bit too much."

You can tell that statement bothers her a bit. You're not going to pry into it too much unless she wants to talk about it though.

"That's the problem. I can't tell what she's thinking. Dad's been as supportive as he can be, but she doesn't even acknowledge it," she says. "It's honestly kind of scary how she can put up a front like that so easily."

You understand what she means. You might be happy right now, but you aren't deluding yourself into thinking that it's normal. You're really not looking forward to the inevitability of her being unable to stay in denial any more. Maybe forcing it on her would work? Getting it over with would be nice, in a way. With how much she's deluding herself, she might take any admission on your part as a joke.

"Yeah, it is kind of weird. Maybe she just needs time to digest the whole thing. You know how she always likes to think things over before reacting," you reply. "She'll have to come around eventually."

"I sure hope so," she says.

"Let's try not to think about that too much tonight. Let's make it a problem for the future us!" you joke.

"I think I can do that," she agrees, casting away her worries.

The two of you sit there for a few hours as you watch the flames die down. It always feels nice to relax in front of the fire as the light from it gets dimmer and dimmer. It's almost like a second sunset just for the two of you. Once it burns down to glowing coals, you stand up to go grab the hose to put it out. Scarlett watches you as the stream of water hisses and evaporates. Even though it's not entirely extinguished, you're confident that it's safe now. Both of you walk back in through the back door. It's gotten kind of late. It looks like your parents are about to head to bed before you two. Your mom catches you as she walks by you.

"We left your rooms the same way as you left them, so you guys can head to bed whenever you feel like it," she notifies you.

"We probably only need one, though," Scarlett lets slip. She really put her foot in her mouth.

Your mom's eyes widen a bit in surprise before she calms herself down. "Heh, yeah. Just like a little sleepover..." she says as she continues down the hall, not even bothering to say goodnight.

"Well, that wasn't so bad. I never thought she'd be in denial that much," you say, slightly concerned. "It's much better than the alternative. I don't want her to blow up at us right before bedtime."

Scarlett diverts the conversation to something else. "So, which bedroom are we going to pick? I want to go in yours," she says.

"You realize that my bed is human-sized, right? I know you like to cuddle, but that might be a little too crowded for both of us," you tell her.

She gets a little pout on her face. "That's fine, we can go to my room then. Let's go!"

You follow behind her, and as she flips the light switch, you can see her room looks just as you always remembered it. Her sensibilities haven't changed too much, she just has more money to decorate her home now. It's comparatively pretty bare. She starts sorting through her clothes until she finds something she likes. She starts to strip right in front of her closet, giving you an eyeful as she involuntarily moons you. She takes out a set of pajamas and starts to pull them on. You're not sure if you can call clothes that revealing pajamas, but you're not going to complain. She's definitely gotten bigger too, if the tightness of the fabric didn't tip you off.

"There we go, all set," she says to herself. "Now go get yours."

You were never much of a guy to wear clothes to bed. "I don't think I have any. If I do, they'd probably only fit a six-year-old," you reply. "Unfortunately you'll have to bear with me sleeping in my underwear."

"That's okay. I'm going to look around the room a bit. I have no idea what I'll find in here," she says before rummaging around in a nearby dresser.

You sit by patiently as she looks around in her dresser and desk. Nothing is interesting in the dresser, but she finds some embarrassing pictures from your childhood that you drew of each other. You look at yours and study the strange yellow blob that's supposed to be your sister. You drew long stripes on her instead of spots. Next to her is you, also wearing yellow for some reason. The pièce de résistance is a firetruck next to the both of you, just as tall as your sister. You never went to tour a fire station as a kid or anything. You just thought it was cool. Signed "ANON - 6."

"It's so cute, I'm glad I still have it," she coos.

"God, why'd you keep that..." you wonder out loud. "Where's the one you made for me?"

"I gave it to you. It's probably still in your room," she replies.

You're already settled in this room, you'll go search your room tomorrow. "I'm sure it's somewhere in there. You find anything else interesting?" you ask.

"I found a bone. Remember when I was all into using natural mediums for art? The really witchy stuff? It has some charm when my friends do it, but it's kind of cringy when I think about myself doing it," she states regretfully.

"I remember when you found that bird skull in the woods. It smelled horrible, and Dad got so mad at you for washing it in the sink. How many times did you have to bleach it in the end?" you inquire.

"Five times. Overnight for five whole days. Then I painted it in a southwestern-inspired color palette. It ended up looking like a luchador instead, especially with the feathers I glued to it," she says, still seemingly disappointed in her artwork.

She walks next to the bed and checks the bedside table next to you. She pulls out the entire drawer, flipping through some old magazines. It looks like they were placed there to hide something else entirely. As she takes all of them out, she spots something unexpected. A baggie full of green stuff, and some pre-rolled cigarettes inside. It doesn't smell too strong so you don't think it's weed. What could it be, then?

"I can't believe Mom never found this," Scarlett says. "Is it still good?" She then opens the bag and takes a deep sniff.

"Oh yeah, that's definitely still good," she says as she gets a lazy smile on her face. "Man, I haven't done Silvervine in a long time."

Now that she's already got some in her, she's probably going to indulge a bit. She's already rolled onto her back, looking up at you dreamily. She must be pretty sensitive to the effects. In taxonomy, cheetahs technically aren't big cats. But for big cats, it seems that the effects are much more powerful and that they last much longer.

"You don't mind, right Anon?" she asks.

You don't have any problem with it. In fact, you think it's kind of cute to see her like this.

"Go ahead," you say. "I won't be able to join you though. Human and all."

You're honestly a bit jealous of all the physical benefits and superior reflexes. Not to mention their sharp senses. Seeing in the dark is almost like a superpower to you. You don't think you'd look very good as a fuzzy guy though. It's not like they really exist anymore, at least in any functional way.

She manages to get up and amble over to the window, popping it open to help air out the room. She doesn't have a lighter on her, so she has to use a long-necked candle lighter to get the plant burning. She doesn't seem to relish in the harsh smoke, but you can see her eyes starting to focus on something very far away. It takes a few minutes for her to finish smoking it, struggling to focus on it due to the powerful effects. She drops the butt directly onto the roof. There was probably a better way to dispose of it, but it's all biodegradable anyways. She then turns to you and gives you a hungry gaze.

She weaves slightly as she tries to keep her steps in order. With how slow she's moving, it's almost like she's stalking you. Silvervine does bring out the natural instincts of a feline after all. You watch her as she places her hands on the bed and climbs up. She crawls towards you on her hands and knees, her sharp eyes dilating to an extreme degree. Her back is arched like she's about to pounce on you. She probably will, you note. Once her face is inches from yours, her paws dart forward, claws digging into your shoulders as she pushes you onto the bed. She opens her maw before starting to drag her tongue along your neck and your cheek. Contrary to her her affectionate grooming, she's growling instead of purring like usual. Her body is on top of yours, grinding her hips into you. She starts to rub against you, practically headbutting you as she uses her cheeks and neck to rub all of her scent onto you.

"Scarlett?" you ask.

She's panting in arousal before she brings her face down to look you in the eyes. "I'm sooo horny right now," she moans at you.

She's definitely feeling the silvervine. Apparently, it really gets her going too.

"Scarlett, we're still at our parent's house," you inform her.

"It's okay, I've always wanted you in my room," she says between her hot breaths. "When else are we getting this chance? It has to be now."

You don't have a lot of choice in the matter. Hopefully, she can be quiet enough. Maybe you can at least distract her while she sobers up a bit. You reach your hand down between her legs, preparing to touch her through her bottoms. It seems she's getting impatient as she takes your hand and slips it under her waistband. You curl your fingers and start to rub against her sex, and you notice that she's already wet. You start playing with her lips, starting slowly as she throws her hips back against your hand. Her lower body rocks back and forth, completely coating your hands with her excitement. You pull your hand back a little so you have access to her clit. You speed up a bit, drawing circles around it. She lets out a hiss as she bites her lip. You continue your ministrations, and she decides to pull down your pants. You're completely exposed now. You get a little more aggressive and start to probe at her entrance. Just as you're about to slip a finger in, she sits up.

"Wait," she commands.

That's kind of strange. Maybe she's realized how risky this is. She does seem to be sobering up a bit.

"I want to try something," she comments. "Don't go anywhere."

With that, she gets up and starts to walk away. You're even more confused as she walks out into the hallway and closes the door. You're just sitting there, completely nude and flabbergasted. As you sit there, the door suddenly opens back up again, and you see her sashay in.

She raises a hand and covers her mouth like she's in shock. "What are you doing in my room, little brother?" she asks.

"What?" You tilt your head in confusion.

"Just play along," she says in a harsh whisper.

It seems she's acting out some kind of roleplay fantasy.

"I can't believe you're in my room jacking off..." Her eyes are wide until you see her face morph into a curious expression.

"I'm sorry," you say. What else could you say in this situation? It feels kind of unimaginative, though. "I just couldn't help myself."

"I guess you can't," she says with a smirk. "You've always been kind of weird, little brother. I'm not mad though."

What would you do next? Does she want it to be more realistic, or something cheesy? You go with the former. You start reaching for your underwear.

"I'll get out now. Please don't tell Mom or Dad," you plead.

"It's gonna feel bad if you stop, right? If it's you, I don't mind," she says coyly.

"Thanks," you say as you start to turn your back to her.

"You don't have to hide it. I've never seen a boy do it before," she says, urging you on. "I kind of want to watch."

You turn back around and sit on the edge of the bed. You grab your manhood but hold back on stroking yourself. She walks over and stands in front of you, staring at it intensely.

"Go ahead. Do it," she commands.

You comply and start moving your hand up and down slowly. It feels genuinely embarrassing to have her watch what is supposed to be a private act. You can feel her presence as she looms over you. You drop your head, having trouble looking her in the eyes. Unfortunately, you're right at eye level with her crotch, and she's so close that you can't really look at anything else. With those thighs of hers that you love so much, you start stroking yourself faster.

"Not too fast. Slow down," she says.

She starts rubbing her thighs together. She's really dedicated to her character. You can tell how much she's holding back watching you. You oblige and slow down, looking back up at her to see her reaction. She's hiding her mouth under a paw for some reason. As you continue, she gets even more impatient. You see her eyelids start to droop as her gaze grows sultry.

"It's not fair if I get to see yours. I'll let you see mine," she says softly.

That could possibly be the most cliche thing she could have said. That said, it still turns you on a bit. You're a bit disappointed in yourself. True to her word, she hooks her thumbs into her pajama bottoms and starts to pull them down. As she leans forward, she gives you a smug smile, her face growing even closer and closer to yours. Just as you think she's going to plant a kiss on you, she steps out of her clothes and withdraws her head. You stopped your movements in anticipation. She seems to be enjoying teasing you.

"Hmm? What's wrong?" she asks. She's completely playing dumb.

"Nothing," you deny.

She doesn't say a thing as she runs her hands along her thighs with a sigh.

"Are you looking? I'm being so nice and showing you, so you better be grateful," she taunts.

You change your attention to her crotch, and you can see her earlier wetness has been supplemented with even more. She's panting very hard as her paws creep to her inner thighs. It takes a lot of willpower to keep your pace, but you don't want to disobey her. She waits several moments until her hands finally reach her pussy, and she parts it slowly for you to look at. You can see her arousal seep out of her. You can practically feel the heat radiating from her loins.

"Is this the first time you've seen a girl?" she asks.

It certainly isn't at this point, but you can't break character. "Yeah. It's amazing," you reply.

Even without seeing her face, you can feel her impish smile. "Do you like your sister's body?" she questions.

"I do," you say.

"You have to say "thank you" then. I'm letting you jerk off in my room and I'm even showing you my pussy," she says.

"Thank you so much," you continue. "Thank you for letting me do this."

"You're welcome. I'm going to show you how I do it now," she says.

It's definitely the first time that you've seen her touch herself this close. Her fingers draw circles on her pussy, teasing her lips. You can see her fingers start to shine in the light as her fingers start to get slick. With this image being burned into your mind, you start gripping yourself tighter. She speeds up her pace too and finally slips two of her fingers in. She lets out a soft moan and pauses her movements. You see her fingers start to shift around inside her and you can actually hear the squelching sound from here.

"That's my favorite spot. Deep inside, right on the top," she explains.

She already told you this before, but maybe it has something to do with the scenario. She starts to withdraw and plunge her fingers in and out rhythmically. Her pace is just as deliberate as yours. She wants to drag this out as long as she can. Her other hand moves down to rub her clit erratically.

"Speed up," she says. "But you have to wait until I cum."

She's dropped most of the script at this point. You're already close, but you speed up your movements as she orders. You start to squirm from the exertion. Her fingers, in contrast, are going at a sensual, deliberate pace. That always seems to be her preference unless she's looking for a quickie. Which is very rare, considering all of her free time as a freelancer. Fortunately, it seems she's starting to approach climax as well. She's stifling her moans as hard as she can to avoid waking anyone up. That's not an act at all.

"I'm going to cum soon," she informs you. "Shoot it out. I want to see it."

Finally getting permission, your pace has turned frantic. Her legs have started to quiver from how close she is. When you see her tense up, you can't hold it anymore and cum directly up and onto her lower stomach, streaks running down her body. You see her clamp her hand over her mouth desperately as she climaxes.

"Mmmph...!" You see her chest heave as she holds back her scream.

She leans forward a bit until she can quiet down. When she can no longer hold her breath, she removes her hand. There's a small string of spit connecting it to her hand. She pants wildly as she catches her breath, bracing her paws on your shoulders for support. Your shoulders are getting sticky from the contact. It takes what seems like hours for her to recover before she finally brings herself to a normal posture.

"Next time you want to jack off, your sister will let you watch her. Anytime you want," she says. "But only if you do the same for me."

There's not really anything for her to clean herself up with, so she takes one of her hands and scoops as much cum as she can off of her stomach so she can lick it up. Even with her efforts, there's still a large patch of matted fur on her. That's why she usually makes you cum inside. Satisfied, she lays back down and gets you to join her. The both of you lay on top of the sheets to enjoy the cool air. It seems she forgot to close the window, but both of you don't want to take care of it yet.

"Let's get our clothes back on," she suggests.

It is the appropriate course of action, so the two of you force yourself to slip on your bottoms. She's closer to the window, so she shuts it. The both of you get under the blankets, and she pulls you close into her. She's still purring and marking you with her scent much more than usual. Looks like the silvervine still hasn't quite worn off yet. She nuzzles and nips at you incessantly until she crashes and falls asleep immediately after. Now unmolested, you do the same.

Notes:

Most sources say that cheetahs don't react to catnip, so I had to change it a bit for accuracy. I'm not sure if using silvervine would work since there's zero research on the subject, but housecats have different reactions to nepetalactol (silvervine) compared to nepetalactone (catnip). Some humans smoke catnip for supposed effects, but only alternative medicine types claim this. Maybe it'd work for an anthro? Both active chemicals of them vaporize at about 250-300 °C according to Chemspider, and the cherry of a cigarette burns anywhere from 400-700°C. I'm not sure if the dramatic difference in temperatures would just completely destroy the active compounds, but there's zero research on that.

An interesting fact about the active chemical in catnip through a lot of steps, eventually ends up affecting the brain the same way morphine would. So you can Narcan a cat to sober it up. Catnip is essentially an opiate that makes cats horny too. Sounds like a lot of fun!

Chapter 9 Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"Happy birthday Scarlett!"

It's her birthday. Of course, you're here for your sister's birthday. Also in attendance are you and Scarlett's closest friends from the neighborhood.

One of them is James. He's super tall and loves basketball. He can even keep up with the taller girls. You always like to go to his house to play around because his backyard is so cool. There's a very dangerous treehouse that's pretty much flat pieces of wood nailed to tree branches. His mom will start fires in the backyard all the time too. There was one time everyone put tents up in the backyard to spend the night. It was tons of fun, even though it was hard to sleep. He also has a tiny TV under his bed to play the Gamecube on. Right next to the front door is a piano that everyone tries to play at the same time. It's only James and your other friend that are any good at it, though.

The other friend is named Lindsey, a black panther who loves video games. She's the best video game player that you know, but she's also excellent at music too. She loves to listen to this dancer named Michael Jackson all the time. Her room is kind of small, so you try to spend time in the living room when her mom isn't watching football in there. Her living room is huge with a big TV, which is awesome. It's the best place to have sleepovers at. There's lots of space to play the quintessential sleepover game, something all of you call "wormies." You put a sleeping bag upside down and crawl around on the ground and hit each other. It's great unless someone gets lost from the group. It's not like you can see, after all. His backyard is pretty lame, though. It's always better to go to Jame's place or your house if you want to play outside.

All of these things are fun, but the main activity that you all do almost every day is ride bikes. A lot of the time, you just yell and talk while riding. Sometimes someone comes up with a fun idea, like cops and robbers, where you try to stick a branch into each other's spokes. It has definitely caused a lot of scrapes and injuries from the handlebars. Lindsey has pegs on her bike, so you can catch a ride if you step on them and hold onto her shoulders. The extra weight certainly slowed things down, though. One short-lived fad that you guys had was attaching playing cards to the frame of the bike so that the spoke would hit them, making a buzzing noise that sounded like a very small dirt bike. A lot of them got shredded to pieces during this week or so. All of you stayed mostly in the neighborhood, because all of the surrounding roads were very busy, and your parents wouldn't allow it. One day, everyone snuck out to the abandoned school just a few streets over and tried to get inside. When the door popped open, an alarm sounded and everyone biked away as fast as they could.

There might not be a lot of people at Scarlett's birthday party, but this is infinitely better than having a whole class of people she may not even be close with. Everyone was playing outside for a few hours before it was decided that getting some cake would be a good idea. Dad brought out a cake for her, one shaped like a shark. Even though it took hours to make, it looks a bit goofy. Scarlett always loves things about fish and the ocean. Maybe it's because she's a cat. She thanks your parents before she blows out the candles.

"Thanks, Mom! Thanks, Dad! I love you!" she says. She was never ashamed or embarrassed to express herself at any age.

Soon after, the cake is cut and served. Everyone has a slice or two before she opens her presents. One of them stands out from all the others: a PlayStation 2. It might be a few years old at this point, but the two of you have been begging for it for years. Your dad tells you to wait to set it up later, trying to limit your gaming time. So everyone goes back outside to play again. Today, you have permission to play outside at night for one of your favorite games. It's called "Michael Myers." Just like the namesake from the movie, the person playing Michael has a toy knife and tries to stab the other players. He can only power walk in his trademark way, no running is allowed. It's pretty unfair, so everyone else will sabotage each other all the time. Even your parents hop in the game to both supervise and balance the odds.

After it gets too late to be outside, you're finally allowed to go into the basement and set up the new console. You might only have a few games, some of them age-inappropriate, thanks to your mom. Everyone takes turns playing late into the night. Your parents might be a bit overprotective at times, but the fact that they love you is unquestionable.

You wonder where you are when you wake. For just a few moments, you're completely disoriented until you think about last night. Scarlett's still asleep, so you decide to wake her up. It's not like you two are home, your parents are probably already waiting for you. Hopefully, they didn't notice anything last night. It feels strange to keep it a secret, since the truth will have to come out eventually. Shouldn't it be obvious what's going on? Do they really expect both of you to just live a chaste marriage in name only? Maybe that would be the expected thing. You really don't know anymore. At least your father seems pretty understanding, and if he thinks it's disgusting or something, he certainly isn't showing it. You've already slipped up in front of your mother, and she's in denial so hard that it has to be unhealthy. How deliberate is her feigned ignorance, even? You'll never know until she sees undeniable evidence, but you don't really want to push it, especially this soon. That will be a problem to tackle in the future.

For now, you shake Scarlett to wake her up. She's slow to wake, as usual.

"What time is it...?" she asks blearily.

"Eight AM. Mom and Dad are probably already up," you respond.

She looks extremely displeased. Both of you get dressed, and you head to the bathroom first to take care of everything you need. You trade places with Scarlett before heading downstairs to greet your parents. With a yawn, you start walking down the stairs slowly. You turn the corner and see that your dad is relaxing in the kitchen. It looks like he was waiting to cook breakfast until both of you woke up. He's always been thoughtful like that. He looks over his smartphone, hearing your footsteps. He puts it down on the table and smiles.

"Morning, Anon. Is it just you? I can go wake Scarlett up for you," he offers.

"No, it's okay, she's just taking a while to get ready," you explain.

"That sounds like her. You want to help me with breakfast?" he asks.

You agree and wait for instructions. Luckily, breakfast seems to be your forte compared to other meals. It usually takes a lot less planning. If it's just eggs and bacon, you'd probably be able to do the whole thing by yourself.

"What are we making?" you ask your dad.

"Hmm..." he ponders. "What haven't you made yet?"

That's a pretty broad question. It would be a long list to explain. "Most things," you reply.

"I know what we can do, we'll make a Quiché. I can show you how to make a pie crust, and it'll be perfect as leftovers to send home with you guys," he says.

"What's that?" you ask.

"It's like an egg pie. Trust me, you'll love it," he promises. "It'll take a while for the pie crust to be ready, but we're waiting on your Mom anyway."

The ingredients for the crust are deceptively simple. He has to give tips about texture and emphasizes more than anything how everything needs to be as cold as possible. You're a bit confused about why it needs to be cold when you're just going to bake it anyway, but he assures you that it's very important. You roll it out into a flattened ball and put it in the fridge to chill for a bit. How cold does this have to be? Your dad assures you that it'll be ready in time for a brunch meal.

Scarlett makes her way down. That really took a while. At least she got changed into her regular clothes. You wouldn't say she gets too comfortable around the house, but she's definitely toeing the edge. She pads around the kitchen to see what you're doing. All you're doing is setting aside some cheese and bacon for a Quiché Lorraine. She decides to ask a question that you've been wondering.

"Hey, where's Mom at?" she inquires.

Your dad pauses for a bit before answering. "She's in her study," he replies.

She does like to spend time in her study, even though she doesn't have many clerical duties. You think she might be in some kind of leadership position in her union, but you never saw her filing paperwork or anything, excluding a few times. It's just well-outfitted in there. A nice recliner, nice ambient light, and a large window to look out to your surroundings. It's also the only place that your father lets her smoke cigarettes inside, so she dips in and out of the room pretty often. At night, she likes to have a nightcap under the dim orange lights from a shaded lamp. It's definitely one of the nicer rooms in the house. God knows how long she's been in there, though.

"She'll be out for breakfast," he says. "She's probably just keeping herself occupied."

You really hope that's the case. Regardless, the time for her to adapt and recharge is probably for the best.

Scarlett sits down at the table.

"When's breakfast going to be ready?" she asks.

"In two hours or so. If I had known that I was making a Quiché, I would've made the crust last night," he replies. "I have some muffins if you want something to tide you over."

Scarlett was always a big eater, so she takes up his offer. You brew some coffee for everyone, wondering if your mother's going to join everyone before breakfast. She's one of the types that needs coffee, so it's weird to see the coffee maker unused. Your dad decides to make some small talk. He's curious about what your plans are in the marriage. He probably has an inkling that you'll end up as a househusband from all the cooking practice, but cooking skills and working aren't mutually exclusive.

"I'm not really sure. I never had any aspirations before, so this works for me. The only reason I'd get a job is if we needed the money," you say.

Scarlett shoots you an annoyed glare. Looks like you hurt her pride a bit.

"I think we'll be fine, though," you say.

"You guys can always call us if you need help," he replies. "I won't have my children living off of ramen noodles."

Poor Scarlett doesn't have anyone confident in her ability as a breadwinner. Your father tried to be diplomatic about it, but it didn't soften the blow much. She's not even offended anymore, just upset that she has to confront the truth. Your dad tries to change the subject to her art to inflate her ego.

"So, Scarlett, have your pieces been selling well?" he asks. "You told me you were selling better and better the last time you called."

"Yeah, I'm doing pretty good. I'm selling everywhere except big galleries or expensive commissions. I need some oil magnate to order a set of portraits for her family," she says optimistically. "It's not like I'm not in galleries either, they're just really small. Running a stall for an art fair might be nice too."

"I'd run the cash box for you if you do," you assure her.

"I'm sure you guys would do great. We'd have to come visit you two," she says.

The pie crust is done cooling, and you get to use a rolling pin for the first time. There are even enough ingredients for two whole quiches. You even put on an apron your dad has to finish that baker look. Flattening the dough is a lot easier than you'd think.

"Look at you, Anon. When did you get so domestic?" your sister teases you.

"I can just let you do the cooking and cleaning from now on. I'm looking forward to eating breakfast at three PM every day," you retort. You're really proud of yourself for that one.

The crust gets baked alone for a few minutes to solidify it for a bit before you sprinkle in the cheese and bacon. Your dad has the egg mixture already done, and it's poured over everything else. You precariously walk holding the pies and deposit them in the preheated oven. All that's left is to set a timer and fry some home fries in a bit. It's past ten at this point.

You sit down for a bit, and after a minute or two you hear the door to your mother's study open then shut, down a short hallway leading to the kitchen. You feel the urge to stand up and greet her but realize that would be a little strange to do. Scarlett does, though, to grab her a mug of coffee. She's always been closer to your mother than yourself, looking up to her ever since she was a kid. It's not like she doesn't love your dad a lot, but there's a different kind of dynamic that happens between an anthro and her mother.

She walks through the arch connecting the kitchen and shoots an almost imperceptible look of disgust at Scarlett. It's just the slightest flash of a flehmen response, so quick that it almost looks like a twitch. Scarlett can't see it as she's still pouring coffee. Your mom composes herself instantly and puts on a lazy smile to the whole family. She looks down at you to meet your eyes.

"Breakfast smells amazing. Did you help again, Anon?" she asks.

You can smell the distinct odor of whiskey and cigarettes on her breath. She's hiding it perfectly, but you can't remove the smell. Even with your human nose, you can smell it.

"Yeah, Dad's a great teacher," you reply.

Your father puffs up his chest in his sense of superiority.

"I know he is. You're going to be a great husband..." she trails off in thought.

Scarlett has the coffee poured for your mother and spins around to hand it to her.

"I got you some coffee," Scarlett says as she takes a few steps while holding out the piping hot beverage.

Your mom smiles in gratitude. "Thanks, Scar-" her voice suddenly halts.

They're in very close proximity to each other. You see your mother's nose flare, and in a split second, her arm shoots out. She's got a furious expression on her face as her paw wraps around Scarlett's scruff in a death grip. She pulls down so hard that she almost pulls her to the ground, the mug dropping to the ground and shattering. You've never seen her be this violent in your life before, and everyone in the room is almost in disbelief. With a yank, she starts to drag Scarlett behind her down the hall, while she lets out small cries of pain and betrayal. She doesn't even try to fight back. It feels like an hour, but it was only moments before you hear the door slam behind her, and hear something impact the ground.

It takes a few seconds to even respond as your mind rejects what you just saw. For those seconds, you were convinced that what you saw wasn't real. As soon as your mind clears, you shoot upright, your chair clattering behind you as it tips over. You take a single step before you're stopped by your father's arm.

"Anon. No," he says softly but authoritatively. His arm pushes at you lightly to ease you away from your march.

"But-!" you start.

"You can't do anything besides make it worse. They have to settle this on their own. They're anthros, son. It's different for a mother and daughter," he explains.

You take a step back, digesting his words. Maybe he's speaking from experience in some way? You still want to do something, but all you can do is trust in both of them.

"Alright, Dad," you relent. "But why would she do that?"

"I don't know, Anon. Now help me clean up all this glass. We don't want them to come back to a mess..." he says, trying to distract both of you.

You grab a mop while your father gets all the pieces in a dustpan. You finish the task in silence. All you can hear is the muffled shouts echoing down the hall.

Scarlett is slung like a piece of trash, by her own mother no less. She lands on her back, softening the impact by catching most of the weight on her elbows. They feel bruised all the way to the bone, and the wind is knocked out of her from the shock of her back hitting the hardwood floor. She managed not to hit her head or injure her neck, at least.

"Ugh..." Scarlett groans from the pain.

As a student of the arts, she's definitely not a fighter. She knew her mother was strong, but it was effortless for her to throw her like that. All those years of manual labor make her a force to be reckoned with. Scarlett can barely roll over, let alone sit up. The shock has come to a crescendo, both from the physical and emotional trauma. She's crippled in every sense of the word.

"Just what did I do wrong?" she wonders. The thought eventually shifts to "Why did I do something wrong?"

She thinks it has to be her own fault if her mother got that angry. Why else would this be happening? Even if she could think clearly, she still wouldn't be able to determine what her misdeeds were. Her mom never did anything like this before, and Scarlett thought she never would. She never even saw her get anywhere near this angry.

Scarlett's eyes grow wide as she sees the absolute revulsion dripping from her mother's face.

"I thought you were better than that," her mom mutters. "I was sure you were."

"I'm sorry..." are the first words Scarlett is able to choke out. This only seems to make her mother even more angry, as a growl starts to rumble in her throat. "...what did I do?" Scarlett manages to finally utter.

"Oh my god," her mother starts. "You don't even think you did anything wrong." She seems completely flabbergasted.

"You're not playing dumb, you really think it's normal," she says in disbelief. "Is it my fault you're like this? Or did I never notice it in you...?"

Scarlett manages to sit up on her arms. Her mother is treating her like she's some kind of sociopath. It hurts her so much. She just wants it to stop. She feels tears welling up in her eyes.

"I do-I don't..." Scarlett's starting to choke up. "I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to?!" she roars before taking a breath to compose herself.

"I can fucking smell him on you." her mother spits out the words, her voice a harsh whisper. She speaks with such disdain that she can barely get the words out.

Scarlett finally understands what happened. She let the smell of last night just soak into her fur. She should've taken a shower or something. But how can her mother get this upset? She's feeling unsure for the first time. Is her relationship actually immoral?

"Your own brother. You forced yourself on your own brother," her mom says like a mantra.

"What?" Scarlett's starting to compose herself again. "I couldn't..." She pulls herself onto a knee.

"You expect me to believe that? You're an anthro," she explains. "And he's just a human. He can't resist."

"I wouldn't do anything that horrible," she says firmly. Scarlett's back on her feet now, even with her battered body.

"You're lying to my face. You're so shameless that you even did it in my fucking house," she says, completely baffled.

"You raped him," she hisses.

Scarlett's feeling indignant now. "Like you did to Dad when you got Assigned?" she says in a snarky riposte.

Outraged at her hypocrisy being pointed out, her mother can't hold back anymore and cocks her fist. Scarlett braces herself for the blow, and a sharp cross causes her neck to snap back. She manages to remain standing due to her sheer willpower. She's still not completely sure if she's right, but she knows what she needs to say.

"I'd never hurt him. I love him!" she shouts out defiantly.

Her mother's eyes sharpen at her words. It may be because of anger, disgust, or even a mix of both.

"Get out of my fucking house. And don't ever come back," her mother says. In contrast to her earlier attitude, her eyes have grown steely and her voice ice-cold.

Scarlett walks past her and lets herself out of the study. Her mom follows her, her sharp eyes focusing on her like a hawk.

"Scarlett?!" you exclaim as you see her walk past everyone to the front door. She's got a nasty nosebleed streaking down her face.

She doesn't respond, and you see her exit the house. You stand up and start to follow her before you're stopped by your mother wrapping her arms around you.

"Anon! Are you okay?" she asks with concern.

What the hell? Something insane happened, and you're even more confused than you were before.

"What happ-" you get cut off.

"It's okay, she won't hurt you anymore," she assures you.

There's a severe misunderstanding here. "What are you talking about? She didn't do a thing to me," you ask.

"You don't have to hide it anymore. We'll keep you here where it's safe," she says. "Away from her. She's sick."

"She's not-"

"-- selfish psycho. I can't believe she'd violate you," she's not even listening to you anymore, and your dad can't get a word in either.

You're really pissed off now, too. You have to go check on Scarlett, and you're tired of listening to your mom accuse your sister.

"Don't talk about my wife that way!" you say forcefully.

Your mother freezes for a bit.

"Get the fuck off me," you say angrily.

She's a bit shocked to hear you speak to her like that as an adult. You shake yourself loose from her limp arms. You start to walk away, and your dad calls out to you.

"Hey, son," he continues. "I can come and see you two whenever you want. I'm always here for you and Scarlett."

You wish he wasn't such a pushover sometimes. If he was able to intervene, maybe none of this would've happened. That's just a fault of character, not a failure like what your mom displayed. He's doing his best in the way he can.

"Thanks," you say. "I love you, Dad."

You start to leave, and your parents start to fight.

"Are you supporting them? What the fuck is wrong with you?" she shouts.

"She's your fucking daughter, and you hit her! You can't trust her?" You hear him yell back.

The voices start to fade as you get closer to the van. You see Scarlett sitting in the passenger seat, tending to her wound with a fast-food napkin. You hop in the driver's seat and start to pull out of the driveway. This was an absolute nightmare. You can't believe your mother would freak out like that bad. It was beyond the pale. How can she think your sister would do something like that to you? You guess you can understand how she wouldn't trust anthros with you, but it's not just some random one. Scarlett's nosebleed seems to have stopped, but there's still a trail of dried blood on her upper lip.

"Hey, Scarlett? You okay?" you ask.

You already know that she isn't, and you probably should've asked sooner.

"As good as I can be right now," she leaves it at that.

"Dad said he still wants to see us. He'll come to visit us," you inform her.

Scarlett only nods and smiles a bit.

A few moments pass as she looks out the windshield to the horizon.

"Do I force you to do things you don't want to? Do you only do these things because I'm so pushy?" Your mom got into her head a little bit. She was always a dutiful child who wanted to be just like her.

"Of course not. You're the best I could ask for," you assure her. "Don't let it get to you."

"You too," she leaves it at that.

She falls asleep shortly after that. She needs the rest after this morning. Not only that, but she didn't get to sleep in today, either. You drive carefully as to not disturb her sleep. The ride home is uneventful, even with your mind racing. You still don't even have the complete picture of what happened. More than anything, you feel like you let her down. Maybe you should've gone in, even if you hadn't been able to do anything. It's not too unlikely one or even both of them would force you out. You don't think you would have been able to talk your mother down, but maybe you could have protected Scarlett. Your dad isn't perfect, especially when it comes to conflict. Was his advice just a way to avoid it? Or did he truly think it was best for them to handle it alone? You don't want to question it too hard, since he's your only ally in the family left. He did let you down in the end, though. You feel like he let Scarlett get hurt when he could've stopped it. He could have really pushed the subject with your mom, even before you two arrived.

You should worry about taking care of Scarlett's injuries when you get back. It's hard to tell the extent of her wounds through fur. You're sure she doesn't want to get shaved, either. You eventually reach the city again, and you pull in to return the van. Furthermore, you unfortunately have to wake Scarlett up and force her to walk home in this condition. Would a ride-share be a good idea? You're sure she would boycott the idea. You gently rouse her easily, even with how deep her sleep was.

"Hey Scarlett, we have to get this turned in and get home," you coax her gently.

"Yeah, let's go," she says.

She lifts herself out of the seat, her back protesting. You grab her, trying to help her, but she gently insists that she's fine on her own. After leaving the office, you stand with her on the sidewalk. She tries to start the walk back to the apartment.

"Hey, wait," you say.

She turns around, a bit annoyed to be interrupted.

"Let's take an Uber back," you suggest. "I don't want you to walk too far today."

She sighs. "My legs are fine, you know. It's just a ride on the metro and a short walk afterward," she replies.

You decide to be a little more forceful than usual. "Dad gave us extra money, so I'm going to call one. You can walk all the way home alone, if you want." It's a dirty move, but it's your only resort.

She relents, and only a few minutes pass before your ride shows up. She gets in and you follow behind her. The trip takes a lot less time this way, and when you arrive, you get Scarlett up into the room. You tell her to sit down on the love seat. Her face is just about level with yours when she's sitting. You go and grab whatever scant first aid supplies she has and a wet hand towel.

"Stay still, I don't really know what I'm doing," you admit.

With a guide pulled up on your phone, you start wiping the dried blood on her muzzle and around her nostrils. It takes a bit of elbow grease to get it out of her fur, but at least it doesn't seem to cause her any pain. The next thing you do is examine her snout closely. It looks a little off, a slight swelling on the bridge of it. You touch it a bit, and she hisses in pain.

"I think it might be broken," you say. "Let's get you to the doctor."

"Do you think I have health insurance? Try to pop it back into place," she says.

It's definitely going to hurt a lot from what you're reading. You grip it and start to push the entirety of it firmly to the left as she yells out. For a home job, you manage to get it looking normal. You don't quite have anything like a cast, so you just put a ton of gauze pads on the outside and tape it on.

"I still think you should go to the doctor, but I did an okay job, I think," you tell her. "If it doesn't work, I won't mind if your nose ends up a little bit crooked."

"I have some time to think about it before it heals," she notes. "Can you get my back next? I hit the ground really hard."

You start to ice her back, not able to do much else. She can move it in every direction with full flexibility, so it's probably just extremely bruised. She's lying stomach down as you rub a frozen bag of vegetables back and forth along the small of her back.

"So, what even happened?" you ask as you tend to her.

"You probably didn't miss much. She thought I was forcing you into sex, and she lost it," she says. "But I don't think she'd be okay with it even though it is consensual. I don't know if it's just an excuse or not."

You had enough information to guess that part, but you didn't even think of that second possibility. It really bothers you how she's forcing all the blame on your sister just because she's an anthro. It's just old-fashioned sexism. You wouldn't mind taking half the blame if your mom is unable to change her ways. You're not sure if it's possible, and even if she did, it'd be a long road to forgiveness.

"I still can't believe she did that to you. You're in really rough shape," you say sadly.

"Yeah. But she wasn't even hitting me as hard as she could, I can tell," she utters softly. "If she got really mad..."

"Well, we won't let that happen again," you say, trying to ease her. "She's going to have to deal with both of us. We're a team, after all."

She smiles and thanks you.

"Are you going to do anything about it this time?" you ask. "Like the police or something?"

You're not sure if you want that to happen. It would be even more unsalvageable at that point. She'd hate your sister and think she's a coward. Scarlett would feel inconsolably guilty, even if she isn't in the wrong. You and your dad would be heartbroken to see the family fracture even more. You certainly don't know how to fix it at this point. Maybe you can come up with an idea with some time. Knowing Scarlett, she'll end up missing your mother before you do.

"I won't. It's a family matter," she states. "I'll make her accept it. I can do it if I'm fighting for you."

You continue mending her wounds until you go grab some take out for her, and go to bed early.

Your father keeps on calling both of you all the time now. Mostly just to update you on the progress of convincing your mother. You already know how poorly it's going from all the calls she makes to you personally. It doesn't matter how many times you tell her that you're fine or how you're happy. Whenever you say that, she'll whisper "I understand, she's there right now, so you can't talk." She treats you like you're some battered husband. She tells you about how she'll help you "escape," get you therapy, and other things to "help." It's at the point where you just want to block her phone calls, but you don't want to give up the hope you can get through to her.

That's pretty much the way that it's gone for the past few months. Even with everything that happened, Scarlett still wants to mend things, but your mom won't even speak to her. Luckily, your first aid managed to set everything back into place, and she healed just fine. Laying in bed, you start to get up and go brush your teeth. When you get back, you see that Scarlett seems to be sleeping rather unsoundly. As you're standing over her, she wakes up, her eyes looking a bit unfocused.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"I'm fine, just feeling a bit weird," she explains.

"I think you might be getting sick. I'm going to go get you some medicine from the pharmacy," you say as you head out the door.

Hopefully she just has a cold. You exit the apartment and start walking to the store. It's kind of far, so you have to take a short trip on some public transportation. Time to wait for the metro to arrive.

Scarlett's mind is feeling a bit cloudy. Her body's burning up as she heads to the restroom to do her business. As she sits on the toilet, she realizes something is strange. She sniffs the air, and realize she just marked instead of it being a regular trip to the restroom. She's definitely in heat. She chuckles a bit, it's going to be a funny misunderstanding to tell Anon when he gets back. Cheetahs go into season at random and unpredictable times, so it's a little harder to plan for. There's an easy solution, though. She walks to the medicine cabinet and rummages around, pulling out a box. Pulling out the blister pack, she sees that it's completely empty.

"Oh no, no, no," she starts to panic a bit.

She starts to completely tear the cabinet apart, throwing pill bottles and boxes of medicine on the ground. Another empty box. The realization that she's completely out of heat suppressors hits her like a brick. Her mind is already starting to grow fuzzy, as she decides she has to go get the medicine herself. She probably could have just asked Anon to grab it for her, but she's a bit frantic right now. She just has to get to a different pharmacy. Meeting him on the way would result in her dragging him home. She looks for the second closest one, and starts to get dressed. Not even bothering to put on any undergarments, she slips on a dirty pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. She kind of looks homeless, but that's the least of her worries. The cashier will probably get a laugh seeing her dressed like that with a box of suppressants. She wouldn't be the first or the last. Just as she finishes getting dressed, she hears the click of the front door unlocking. She hops under the covers for some reason. If she just manages to get Anon to leave, she can go pick the medicine up alone, and everything will work out. It's kind of a harebrained scheme, but her mind is already filled with thoughts about Anon.

You walk in through the door with some fever medication and some cough medicine. She already looks feverish, but she might get worse in other ways. You peek through the bedroom door and see she's laid up in bed. The poor thing.

"I'll be right over with your medicine," you tell her.

"Wait, no," she says.

She's worse than you thought. She must be all delirious from her fever. You get a few pills and fill a glass with water, then start to walk over. As you walk through the doorway, she shouts out again.

"Don't come closer!" she says.

"How am I supposed to give you your medicine?" you ask.

She's looking really out of it. She's panting like mad. You set the water and medicine down on the bedside table.

"I wish we had a thermometer. Let me take your temperature," you say as you lean down.

You touch your forehead to hers. You've never felt her body be so hot before. She can't hold it anymore, and her arms shoot out to grab you by the shoulders. She flips you onto the bed roughly as she straddles you and kisses you with an animalistic passion. She instantly starts disrobing, actually tearing the fabric of her clothes and shrugging off the rags.

"Wait Scarlett, we should wait until you feel better," you suggest.

Her eyes are crazed as she starts tearing at your clothes too, completely ignoring your words. Just what is going on with her? She starts to paw at your crotch, impatient of waiting for you to get erect. You can feel how wet she is already, literal drops of her excitement splashing on your thighs. She grabs your cock and lines you up as quickly as possible, dropping on you with no warning.

"Scarlett, Scarlett!" you try to get through to her. "You're sick, calm down."

"I'm sick?" she repeats.

You want to try to calm her down, but she starts to pump her hips against you.

"I'm sick of pills. No more pills," she says as she bounces on you. "I'm going to breed you now."

"What?" you ask. That really escalated.

She pauses and grinds her hips in circles on you. Her full weight pressing you as deep inside her as possible.

"I said I'm going to mate with you. I'm not going to wait anymore," she states, leaving no room for argument. "Your sister is going to fuck you until you knock her up."

"Are you serious?" you ask.

Her look shows you that she's dead serious. This is no role-play or the like.

"I'm in heat right now. I'm at my most fertile right now." she explains.

That explains everything. Maybe you should have listened to her when she told you to stay back. She starts to thrust her hips against you again, slowly this time to try to milk everything out of you. You writhe a bit underneath her from the stimulation.

"Every time I had to take the pill, it was just for you. You just don't know what's good for you," she asserts.

"We can talk about this," you plead.

She leans forward, giving her more leverage to hump you mindlessly. She's sped up her movements as your hips clap against hers. She kisses you, eyes staring into yours before she pulls away to talk into your ear.

"We're done talking," she says sinisterly.

"Seriously, this is dangerous," you say.

You grab her hips, feebly trying to get her to stop or slow down. She smirks at your attempt at resistance.

"Are you trying to stop me? You're not strong enough," she taunts.

She sits up, looking down at you before taking a moment to stop.

"I know you want this. But if you say you don't, just don't cum," she challenges you. "But I'm not stopping until you do."

She slowly lowers and raises her hips, stroking you with her slick walls. Your futile efforts to hold it in only makes her even more aroused. It's just a game to her.

Maybe it's just the eroticism of her words, or the overwhelming pleasure, but it really makes you consider going along with her. You love her, you really do. More than anything. And like any other person, you want to start a family with the one you love. The only thing holding you back is your fear. A lot of them. The fear that your child won't be healthy, the fear that no one will accept your family, and most of all the fear of facing this all alone, only you and Scarlett. What would your mother do? Hate her grandchild? It's just too sad to think about.

You release your grip to stroke your hands against her thick thighs, the fat almost like springy dough. She gets an ecstatic, manic smile at your surrender.

"There we go. Good boy," she coos. "Just let your sister take care of it."

The wetness and heat of her insides make any of the sex you've had before look like a joke. As she quivers around your dick, you're almost worried that she'll scald you. Her arousal coats almost your entire lower body, even reaching the outside of your thighs. Even through all of this, she keeps her pace with long slow strokes. She wants to prolong this and keep you on the edge until you cum as hard as you can.

"Tell me the truth, now. Say you want to cum inside your sister," she commands.

It's really difficult to admit, but you relent. "I do."

"You didn't use the magic word. Now you have to wait," she taunts.

She continues her agonizing pace as she grows closer to climax. She's going to cum without you just to punish you. One of her fingers snake down her body until she reaches her clit, and she rubs slow circles around it.

"Mmmn..." she moans.

Her thrusts are as long as they could possibly be, with every movement almost making you slip out of her. Every part of your length is stimulated by her insides. It takes some time, but her movements get jerky as she pushes herself to orgasm. Her legs tremble before she can't hold herself up anymore, her body dropping on you to push you as deep as possible.

"Aaah-!" she lets out a short scream as her walls constrict around you so hard, that you're afraid the blood flow to your dick is going to be cut off. She takes a short moment to compose herself before redoubling her efforts.

"Next time I cum, you have to do it with me," she says.

Her sticky hips connect and separate from yours in a furious pace. She must be frustrated and impatient at this point. Her paw continues to stimulate herself as her free hand presses on your stomach to brace herself. You can practically see the steam from her hot breath as she pants wildly.

"I want at least three," she says.

"What?" you ask. You don't really get what she means by that.

"Three kittens. More would be better, so try your best," she says.

You've been on the edge of climax for several minutes now, but you force yourself through sheer willpower to endure. She releases sharp moans with each thrust before she drops back down to speak directly into your ear again.

"I'm-I'm going to cum soon. Now say it," she orders.

She's delaying it for herself too, until she gets you to submit completely.

"Please let me cum in my sister," you choke out.

That's all it takes for her to sprint to the finish line as she humps you with animalistic fervor. You know she had the capability to be very fast, but it's almost punishing at this point. As she gets closer to cumming, her eyes unfocus as she stares through the headboard. She's not even thinking of words, just filled with an overwhelming need to breed. It only takes a few more seconds for the both of you to cum.

The second she climaxes, she pulls her head down and sinks her teeth right into your shoulder. She couldn't hold back her instincts anymore, and you can hear her muffled screams and growls as she squeezes all of your seed out of you. You cum as hard as you ever had in your life, shooting inside her, completely flooding her womb. It seems to last forever as your head spins. The only thing keeping you conscious is the pain from her bite. As it starts to pass, you feel her release her jaws as the two of you ride out the last of your orgasms. Once you finally catch your breath, you feel her absentmindedly lick at the puncture wounds. It takes a few minutes for both of you to compose yourselves, and she's finally able to speak.

"Sorry about that, I just couldn't help myself," she says, referring to the marking bite. "Now everyone will know you're mine now. You don't mind, right?"

She doesn't have the largest teeth, and even though it hurts, a part of you is happy. "No, it's fine," you say, having trouble articulating your thoughts.

She doesn't say anymore, and just kisses you before nuzzling your cheeks and purring. Relishing in the contact, she whispers again into your ear.

"Fourteen days," she says.

"For what?" you ask.

"That's how long my heat lasts. So we have to do it over and over again until it sticks. You'll be in trouble if it doesn't," she says half-jokingly.

This is going to be a tiring few weeks.

Notes:

Did I make it a little too violent there?

Chapter 10: Epilogue

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Another morning of the same routine. You're standing in the restroom combing your hair in the mirror. Scarlett's taking yet another pregnancy test.

"You don't need to take those everyday, you know," you tell her.

"Don't tell me what to do," Scarlett says while pouting.

"Seriously, you're going to make us bankrupt," you joke.

"I think we'll be fine. It's too important not to," she assures you.

It is, but there is such a thing about getting too excited. She's just priming herself for disappointment every single day. You might even have to wait for her next season, or the one after that. Who knows when that could be, anyway. Cheetahs aren't known for being particularly prolific at bearing litters.

"Just don't be too disappointed if it doesn't work out. It's still pretty early, too. It's literally only been three weeks since your heat ended. And you started checking since the day it ended," you say.

"Don't be such a-" she freezes.

She throws the test into the trash. You're tired of having to empty the trash can so frequently. It must be another negative result. She opens another one to try again.

"Give me a glass of water," she demands.

"Why?" you ask.

"Just do it," she says.

Is she really going to take another one? It's not like the result is going to be different. It wouldn't be the first time that she's done this more than once a day. It's been maybe a minute or two this time. At least she usually waits until the end of the day to try again. As you fill a glass with water, you walk back and hand it to her, and she gulps it down quickly. You sigh and take the empty glass, walking away.

"I'm going to go hang out in the living room. I'll see you when you're done," you say.

You sit down on the couch and watch some TV. There's nothing that interesting, so you turn on the news for some background noise. You brew yourself some coffee while you wait. Sitting back down, you stare blankly at the screen. Another terrorist attack. They should probably just stop reporting these anymore, the world is a big place, and it's a given that there's more than one a day. It's not even beneficial for propaganda. If anything, it shows gaps in the security of the State. It must be because the State gets to parade around the perpetrators around in the next few days when they're inevitably captured. You'd rather watch some boring local news about a stolen Amazon package or something.

You manage to finish your coffee after thirty minutes or so, and you wash it off in the sink. As you sit back down, you hear Scarlett fall down, and you check on her. You walk into the bedroom and see that she's fallen down, underwear still around her ankles. She could be clumsy, but this is a bit too much.

"Are you okay?" you ask her, looking at her form face down on the ground.

She pulls up her panties and runs over to the test that got flung across the room.

"Look! Look!" she exclaims, pointing the test towards you, backwards.

The chances that it's positive are low. Any trace of color or a speck where the second line is supposed to be makes her go into a frenzy. You always have to tell her that you don't see it. You take her hand and spin it around, so you can see the indicator.

Two perfect, solid lines.

"Both of them! Both tests!" she yells as she picks you up and spins you in her arms.

You're in shock. You weren't as confident as her, so weren't quite as prepared. You did it? What now? You try to gather your thoughts.

"Anon, we did it!" she shouts.

"Yeah, we did," you say as you smile.

She went into labor at the worst possible time.

It was a pretty routine day at first, just a regular stop at The Cultured Cup. Even though the cashier already was told when she was due, she still asked every week or so. So you told her that you're expecting a girl any moment. It was just out of politeness. That of course didn't stop her from being excited for you two. She made you two promise to bring her to the store. You would even without being asked. New parents would certainly need some coffee. For now, the two of you got some espresso and slowly sipped on it. After that, the plan was to go meet up with Luvleen at her place. Apparently she's a pretty good baker, even though most of her treats are "special." Scarlett was craving sweets a lot the whole time. She seemed a bit uncomfortable on the way there.

"Are you alright, Scarlett?" you asked.

"I'm fine, I think the espresso is effecting me a bit," she replied. "I just need to get some brownies in me, then I'll be fine."

Luvleen met you on the sidewalk outside her apartment, a tray of brownies in a Pyrex dish. She handed them to you as the group walked up the stairs, Luvleen supporting your wife's gravid body. You were on the way to the top floor, since the elevator was broken. Halfway up, it finally hit her. She needed to go to the hospital, now. She kept herself from collapsing as she got helped down six or so flights of stairs. It was a nightmare, and all you could do was hold a tray of brownies. At least the wait for the ambulance was only a few minutes after she got outside.

That's how you ended up at the hospital now.

You try not to look as much as you can, so you just stand by and hold her hand. You're afraid she's going to break yours with her superior strength. You can actually see your fingers start to turn white. Of course, she's much too distracted no notice. It's so loud in here. Aside from her screaming, there's so many doctors and nurses in here, few of them local. The State sent a veritable legion of scientists and medical professionals. It is an unusual circumstance, after all. It's a good thing Scarlett's not too shy. She might just not care at the moment though. As far as you can tell though, everything seems to be in order. The medical staff assure you that it should be relatively fast, and that she was almost directly on schedule.

"Push! Push!" a midwife says to her.

Scarlett's face is screwed up in pain as she tries to breathe rhythmically. The women in lab coats take notes and whisper to each other quietly the whole time. It takes an hour or so until your daughter is finally born. The cheetah cub cries soft mewls as they cut the cord connecting her to her mother. All the researchers are snapping photos, which you're sure Scarlett is going to have to deal with later. At the moment, the cub gets swaddled up and passed to her. She finally releases your hand and reaches out to hold her for the first time. When she finally starts cradling her, you take your hand and pet Scarlett's fur lovingly. With her baby in her arms, she starts grooming her fur clean. That's kind of gross, but you're not going to say anything. After she gets to hold and bond with your child for a bit, the group of people take her to run a battery of tests as you and Scarlett follow. It's taking a lot longer than you suspect it should. The State wants to document everything they can. It's a bit annoying, but you'd be proud if it managed to help someone some day. You get her returned, and get discharged. Apparently she's exceptionally healthy.

"Hey Scarlett, sorry I broke my promise," you say, thinking about the past.

She's sat down with your daughter nuzzling her. She pulls away and tilts her head in confusion from your words.

"What promise?" she asks.

"You said you wanted three, right?" you joke.

"God, no. If I had known that she'd be so lively, I definitely wouldn't have wanted that many," she says.

You smile and step away. Scarlett's still playing with the cub.

"Look at you! You look like a doofus," she says in a sing-song voice as she looks at her back.

Your daughter has the signature white stripe on her back that every cheetah cub has. It really does look stupid. She meows back at Scarlett, pressing her cheek into hers before Scarlett starts to groom her again. She really loves doing that. You got a bit distracted watching them, so you return to your original task. You pull out your phone and tap away until you start a call with your father. It rings a few times before he answers.

"Hey, give me a minute," he whispers.

You hear his heavy steps as he walks around for a bit, then you hear him open the back door before he continues.

"Okay, we're good. Your mom was in the living room," he explains.

He already knows about his grandchild of course, but hasn't got to see her yet. Your mother hasn't said anything yet, but you're sure he told her. She hasn't called you since then.

"Is the plan still on today?" you ask.

"Yeah, we're good. She's going to be home all day," he responds.

You're not sure if this surprise visit is going to be the best idea, but your dad assures you it will be perfect. Your mother might deny you guys from visiting if you gave her advance notice.

"Okay, give us like thirty minutes to pack her bag and stuff, then we'll head out. Probably two hours total?" you estimate.

"That'll be right before lunch. I'll be able to make it after everyone arrives," he says cheerily.

"Crap, we need to get the rental too. Give us an extra thirty," you add.

"Sure thing, son. We'll see you when you get here. Love you," he says before you say the same and hang up.

You walk back over to Scarlett and crouch down in front of her. Your daughter is meowing happily as she crawls around, until she finds something to chew on with her tiny teeth.

"Come on, get that out of your mouth," you say as you gently free the TV remote from her jaws.

Her teeth are sharper than they look, and too many things have gotten torn up thanks to her ability to find objects everywhere. You pick her up in your arms.

"Everything's set up," you tell Scarlett. "Dad's ready when we are."

Her ears fold down on her head. "...okay," she replies.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," you assure her.

She musters her courage. "No, we have to. Not even for mom, or dad, but for her. She deserves to have grandparents," she says with her chest puffed.

"I'll get her stuff in her bag, if you can manage to keep her occupied. Good luck," you say as you place bottles, toys, and other necessities in a baby bag.

You really weren't joking when you wished Scarlett good luck. Your daughter is lively to say the least. It honestly is almost a two-person job to play with her most of the time. With everything packed, you grab your baby while Scarlett wrestles with a folded up stroller and a car seat. It's honestly impressive that she can carry both at the same time. We'll see how she feels after the trip to the rental office. The way down the stairs is bad enough for her, and the walk was a struggle despite her bluffs. At least she got a good rest in the metro. Once you get your rental car, you hand off the baby, so you can set up the seat and buckle her in.

You drive this time to give Scarlett a break. The trip is boring for you, but it seems Scarlett is entertained by facing backwards to talk to her daughter in the back seat. That's got to be terrible for her back to do that for two hours straight. Your daughter seems to love the ride too, watching all the scenery streak by. She doesn't ride in a car that often. You finally reach your hometown, and take the familiar roads until you get Scarlett to send a text to your dad. Texting while driving is too dangerous with your precious cargo. You finally reach the driveway, and you creep the car several feet in before parking it. Everyone's unloaded in time, and you stand in front of the car before your parents exit the house.

"Is that-?" your mother says.

"Calm down, honey," your dad says as he starts walking towards you.

She practically stomps over as your parents meet you halfway in the middle. Her face screws up in anger as she looks away from you.

"I thought I told you not to come-" she starts saying.

She's interrupted by Scarlett.

"Want to hold her?"

Your mother looks down at the cub and takes her into her arms, and smiles.

THE END

Notes:

Sorry it's so short, but I'm happy with the part at the end.

I'm also very happy to have finished my first story.

Thank you all for reading the whole time.

I have some other stories planned for my next two, but don't know which to do first. They'd both be kind of dark in contrast to this.

WWII story and the deepest lore of the history of the Anthrostate.

or

Mommydom story with a scarily obsessive and possesive actual mommy? I guess I'm gonna end up being the incest writer in the genre now.

Let me know which one in the comments or on /adhg/!

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