By Any Means 1
Story by TikTikKobold on SoFurry
Myster has lived a life trying to be popular and sociable and to seek love, but his demonic heritage has him foiled time and time again. He returns home to seek his sister, Mysma, a wealthy and powerful Aasimar socialite, and begs for her to help him be loved, but her disgust of him leads to something neither of them would ever imagine
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Mysma stares down at the pathetic creature before her, the heavens-blessed woman’s hands firmly against her hips, onyx eyes staring down with pure disdain at the pitiful creature before her.
Myster bows low before her, quivering in his apologetic stance. His horned form trembling, his knees hurting, his calloused fingers scratching against the ground. “Please… Mysma… sister dear… I’ll do anything… anything to know the secret of being loved.”
Mysma flicks her jet hair back, sneering and sitting on the high-backed chair. She strokes her alabaster lips, staring at the poor creature before you. “You misbegotten wretch,” she growls. “Would that One such as I come from the same womb as a monstrosity like you!”
Myster looks up, tears staining his face. Though he has chiseled features and a well-trimmed beard, Mysma can’t help but recoil at the sight of him.
This makes him sniffle and look down. “I’ve tried,” he moans. “So many times… to find love… to find appreciation. I’ve been a philanthropist… and a hero, and yet… yet…”
“Yet, you are a pest, scum, and a waste of space who killed our mother when we were born and ruined my chances at sainthood with your continued existence.” She snarls, crossing one leg over the other, bouncing a boot. “What could you ask of me that I’d be generous enough to give!”
He crawls up to her, shuddering, his massive shoulders quivering wildly as he approaches her boot. “I cannot find love in the realm of romance… nor can I find it in friendship. It’s driving me mad. Sister, my twin, please! At least find it in your heart to find some love for me now that we are mature!”
Mysma stands up, spitting, striking him on the cheek. “Oh, suck my cock, you pathetic little ant!”
She stomps off, pouring herself a glass of whiskey and watching the pouring rain outside.
There’s a moment of silence, followed by a soft shuffling as the man sits on his knees, dabbing his fingers on the spit, wiping it and his tears clean. “Is that what it’ll take?”
Mysma stops swirling her glass, her breath catching in her throat. She slowly turns around, her onyx eye a pinprick, and her breath stops. “The hells did you say?”
Myster’s crimson eyes wobble and waver as he stares at his angelic twin. “If I… If I rendered that service to you… would you love me?”
The hand holding the cup shudders and shakes, and the heaven-blessed woman grits her teeth, grinding them, the glass shattering, sending a mix of blood and whiskey burning and dripping down her hand. Her next word comes out through those teeth like the growl of some beast. “Are you serious, brother?”
He blinks, sobbing, gripping the knees on his fashionable pants, his face a bleary mess of tears and snot, but through his blubbering, he nods.
Mysma wipes off the whiskey, picking out the bit of glass that cut her. A simple spell heals her perfect alabaster skin before she saunters toward him, standing tall, her thighs right before him.
“I can’t believe it, and yet… here you are!” she says, chuckling. “You’d say absolutely anything to get even the slightest modicum of respect, wouldn’t you?” She slides her hands down, unfastening her belt. “None of the best tailors, hair trimmers, or horn sanders in the land could make your painfully dull features any more attractive to anyone, so you wish to joke with me? Is that it?”
She hooks her hands on her waistband, pulling her pants down. With her other hand, she lifts up her vest slightly. There, exposed before the fiend-born man, there hangs the own quirk of her birth—a massive cock, veiny and flaccid.
Myster sits there, looking up at her face, his lip pouting, quivering.
Mysma snickers down at him, slowly lowering her top and reaching for her pants. “See, you’re so pathetic that you can’t even commit to something so gross and disgus-tah!?”
Myster grabs his twin by the thighs and leans in, pressing his lips to the head.
The thing twitches to some semblance of life, leaving Mysma stunned and staring.
“Is this good, my sister?” He whines
“You… you pervert…” Mysma growls, her lip twitching up toward a wicked grin.
“Please, say you love me!” he groans, kissing along the shaft now, his thin mustache tickling at the sensitive flesh.
She slips a hand up to her cheek, covering her face. “How… how filthy…” she groans. “You… you have no future in civilized society, doing such a thing!”
He slips his mouth down to the base, the cock lying upon his forehead. He kisses up along it, letting the tip rest on his nose and soon pressing it down to his lip.
He whimpers as he stares at her, only for Mysma to finally growl and grab him by the horn. “You sisterfucking piece of refuse! You want to tease me on top of damning us for all eternity!?” She says this, shoving him up against her crotch.
Her groans, his mouth finding its way underneath that cock, pressing up against her wondrous balls.
She yanks him away, throwing him back down. Myster stumbles back, falling onto his butt, his elbows supporting him.
Mysma stands tall over him, crossing her arms under her breast. “You touch and taste only what I tell you.” She says, raising a boot high and planting it on his chest, pushing him down against the hard, cold floor.
Lightning strikes as Mysma looms over her twin brother. The flash shows her sadistic smile spreading from cheek to cheek, her eyes pinprick with dominating glory.
“You want my love, dear, dear, brother?” she says, her voice cold and sharp. “Then you will have to endure all of my hate!”