This choice: Become kinder, more helpful and eager to please? [Reserved] • Go Back...Chapter #5A happy sister, a happy home? Huh? by: Travesty   He froze as he braced himself for more abuse for zoning out. The last thing he expected was for his sister to gasp and drag him into a hug.
"Omigod, I'm so sorry! I don't know why I said that! Please, please forgive me bro?" she pleaded, staring up at him with teary eyes he never knew she could have outside of trying to scam more stuff from their mother. She seemed...sincere?
Sincere and his sister were two concepts that didn't gel. At that point, whereas before he was sceptic, he was now a believer; after all, how could anyone explain such a drastic and sudden change in someone he would have easily voted 'Bitch Of The Year' before this moment?
"Uh...yeah. It's cool" he felt stupid the moment he said it, but this day just seemed to keep getting weirder and weirder. "I'm just going up to my room for a bit, yeah?"
"Oh, sure" she chirped. chirped? That was so very beyond normal for her. He began to go upstairs when she got his attention again.
"Uh, so...do you, like, maybe want me to fix you something to eat? Bring you something to drink?" she asked.
Chris was just about to overload, so he just accepted. Happily, she ran into the kitchen and he could hear her getting out plates and opening the fridge. He quickly dashed upstairs and closed the door to his room.
He leaned back against the closed door and let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
"Kind ofa headfuck, ain't it"
Chris jumped at the mischevious voice. He turned to find Reese standing there, lopsided grin in place and a smirk that could only belong on someone way too self-satisfied with their deeds.
"Where the Hell'd you go?!" he yelled. Unperturbed, the unrepentant genie simply smiled.
"When other people are around, I disappear. I mean people are gonna ask questions if they see me...I have pointy ears and more bizzare clothing than the Emir of Khwarmistan" he explained.
"Where?" Chris asked, in familiar territory, being confused.
"It's...never mind. He used to wear some really freaky stuff...moral of the story. Anyway, whenever we're around people I disappear"
"So around people, if I need you, I'm screwed?" Chris quirked an eyebrow.
"Nope! This next part is genius!" he snickered, earning a deadpan look from the young guy. "Basically," he continued while ignoring his new master, "as long as you think it as a wish, I can do it. I share a mental link with you!"
"Hmm" Chris pondered "I guess that's useful. But no reading my fantasies or dreams, particularly between 11pm and 7am...that's Chris time!" he warned the millenia old entity.
"Relax maestro, I'm pretty sure out of all of my masters you'd be a distant place on the list. You don't want to know the kinds of things my former master Caligula thought...bbrrr!" he really did NOT want to revisit that!
"CALIGULA?! As in the Roman Emperor? Just how many leaders in history did you know?" Chris was really starting to hate these revelations.
"A few...most of the more debased ones...you know that whole 'Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely' thing? For almost every case I've come across, that's true. There are some exceptions of course...Mother Theresa was one, an orphan who just wanted to make the world a better place. To give you and example of the kinds of things you can do, I'll let you know...Caligula was never a true Emperor. He wasn't of the bloodline of the Emperors. He was just some sick freak who worked on a farm that wished he'd been born to become and Emperor" he lectured, stopping because Chris was staring at him slack-jawed.
After a while he composed himself. "So I can do pretty much anything I want?"
"Uh huh. You could even shit gold if you wanted. Though I wouldn't advise it...really painful. One of my former masters found that out the hard way. Ever heard of a C-section on a guy for constapation caused by golden crap?" he tried to joke, but all Chris could think of was the pain.
Their conversation was interupted by a knock at the door. "Yeah?" he inquired.
"Um, it's me, Cara," her voice came from the other side, "I brought you something I made and something to drink"
Chris was confused for a moment, before the last thing she said came back to him. He opened the door to find her standing there with a tray with a soda, a plate with a toasted cheese sandwich and a small pile of pancakes. He stared at the tray and the odd combination. Cara quickly noticed and looked nervous.
"Sorry," she said, subdued, "this is pretty much all I know how to make...apart from the soda, of course"
He smiled at the weak attempt at humor to break the ice. He opened the door fully and let her in. He had a minor panic attack when he thought about Reese, but a quick scan of the room told him what the mystical being had told him about disappearing around others was spot on.
Cara walked over to the desk and placed the tray down when Chris heard a voice.
"You know," the voice he now recognised as Reese's chimed in, "she'd pretty cute. And for everything she's done to you..." Reese trailed off. Chris felt a moment where he agreed with the genie, but shook it off.
'She's my sister!' he yelled, though a part of him seriously considered overruling that matter as unimportant.
"Half-sister" Reese's voice carolled back.
"Oh, shit!" In the meantime, in the real-world, Cara had managed to fumble the tray and spill the soda across the desk. "I'm so sorry!" she was trying (in vain) to clean up the mess, but was doing about as effective a job at cleaning up her spill as Exxon did cleaning up the Mexican Gulf.
However, the mess she'd made mattered almost nothing as Chris found himself enthralled by his half-sister's pert ass shaking back and forth as she worked fervently to correct the problems she'd caused and the soda lake barely contained from spreading across Chris' desk. He couldn't tear his gaze away. It was wrong...wasn't it?
'Ooohh! Not bad! C'mon Chris, admit it....that is a tasty sight' the voice in his head cajoled. As wrong as it may have been, in his current focused state he had to agree.
'You don't have to...get freaky with her. Just play with her. It'll be fun!' the thought of her like a doll that played to his whims intermixed with memories of her bitchiness, like when she'd broken his soccer trophy because he'd taken a long time in the shower after a grueling day at a temp-job while he was at school, trying to help his mother make ends meet.
After several moments of these mixed thoughts, he found himself so sorely tempted that his restraint broke.
He wished...?   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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