Twilight Lotus

The first rays of the morning sun spilled through the unyielding cracks of the half-drawn curtains, painting streaks of golden light across the room. The usual sound of birds chirping outside heralded the arrival of a new day.

Anne pushed open the squeaking door to her son's bedroom, to find him slumbering amidst a mess of rumpled sheets and mismatched pillows. She paused at the edge of the bed and hovered her hand over Alistair's tousled hair, rousing him out of sleep.

As Alistair stretched out his limbs, he couldn't help but let out an exaggerated yawn, like a bear waking up from hibernation. "Time to conquer the day!" he declared with a theatrically deep voice, only to immediately stifle a giggle at his own silliness. Anne went to pull apart the curtains, allowing the golden rays of sunlight to filter into the room.

With the curtains now fully drawn, Alistair surveyed the room bathed in sunlight. "Ah, the glorious rays of morning, delivering a much-needed wake-up call," he thought, as if the sun itself was his personal alarm clock.

His mother's loving voice pulled him back to reality. "Sweetheart, time to wake up," she whispered with a voice filled with an air of motherly tenderness. Alistair, in an attempt to play along with the rays-waking-him-up charade, slowly squinted his eyes open and greeted with a dazed expression.

"Morning, Mom," he mumbled, his voice laced with sleepiness as he fought back a yawn that threatened to escape.

"Good morning, my little gourmet. Did the rays wake you up?" she asked as her eyes was filled with nothing but adoration for her son.

"Yep, it worked like magic!" Alistair replied, secretly amused at the thought of the all-powerful rays having the ability to rouse him from his slumber. "What a joke!" He said to himself.

Anne couldn't resist embracing her son, pulling him into a warm, loving hug. As she pressed him against her ample bosom, Alistair's face was squished between two giant and tender swizz balls.

"Felt a bit cranky at first..." He took a moment to relish the absurdity of the situation in his mind. "Well, this is cozy," he thought, his face buried in the depths of affectionate smothering, as if he was getting a front-row seat to the Great Squish Olympics.

"I'm so sorry, darling, I'm running late for work. But don't worry, your sisters will be here to keep you company, alright baby." Anne said apologetically.

Alistair, perfectly content with the promise of his sisters' company, replied with a squished but happy expression, pretending to be a miniature contortionist trapped between the soft embrace of maternal love. "It's okay, Mom. I'll be fine with them."

Once Anne left, Alistair wiped away the remnants of his sleepy facade, replacing it with a mischievous grin that stretched from ear to ear. "Finally, some alone time!" he exclaimed to himself, as if he had just won a lottery of solitude.

"What do you say we have a little magic practise, now that the adults are away, sisters??!" Alistair grinned, and one by one, his sisters emerged from a cloaking spell near his bedside, looking all buxom and up for the occasion.

___

In a dimly lit basement lined with bookshelves and cluttered with magical artifacts. The lovely sisters, all unique in their own ways, surrounded a small table, with their little brother, Alistair, seated wide-eyed at the end of the tables. He was eagerly trying his best to pay attention to their lesson on mage-craft.

"And thus, baby brother, we enter the realm of mage-craft! The enchanted arts that wield unimaginable power!" Seraphina, the eldest, said with a dramatic flourish.

Alistair nodded along, but not really following. "Unimaginable power! Got it!" His gaze wandered off to his eldest sister's cleavage, captivated by the way her robe clung to them making them amusingly defy the laws of gravity.

"Same size as mom's, how are those things even real?" Seymour thought, his eyes following her heaving tits like homing devices. "They're like two softball stadiums stuck on her chest!"

However, his distracted look didn't go unnoticed. "Alistair! Pay attention! This is important mage knowledge." Seraphina called out, trying to get his attention.

"Oh, sorry! Go on!" Alistair snapped out of the booby trance. "Shit! I was caught. I guess I should be acting more like my age before they start having weird thoughts like adolescence catching up with me at ten." He scoffed inwardly.

"Now, brother, in the world of mages, there are three classes. Listen carefully!" She's urged as Alistair leaned in, his eyes still slightly distracted as they constantly bounced off her chest meat.

"First, there are the warriors. These are a brave bunch who lack any magical abilities but excel in combat. Hence, they use magical artifacts to compensate for their flaws." She's said, shuffling into a serious tone.

"My turn to act my age." Alistair's thoughts perked up. "Like the ones who sniff a lot and swing big swords around?" His sisters exchange glances, stifling laughter.

"Hehe! I threw them off." Seymour grinned inwardly

Suppressing a giggle, Seraphina felt the need to keep the order as the eldest. "Yes, something like that! Moving on, next we have the mages. Now, these are individuals who possess immense magical powers, but they're about as sturdy as wet toilet paper when it comes to a fight."

"Again! This time, even sillier." Seymour thought with a deliberately shocking look. "So, like little magical butterflies, huh?"

The girls snicker quietly, barely holding themselves together. "Again!" Seymour thought, trying his best to cover his grin at the amusing sight of Seraphina's struggle to keep a straight face.

"Yes, brother, magical butterflies indeed! And lastly, we have the battle-mages. They are those rare folks whose magic actually requires them to possess some combat skills."

Alistair squinted hard, "So... they're like magical warriors?"

"Exactly! You're catching on, little brother!" Seraphina clapped, looking impressed.

"Bollocks! Not so perfect this time." Seymour inwardly sneered, unwilling to quit with the charade. "I'm a magic warrior in training!" They burst into laughter at their brother's innocent cluelessness seemingly contagious.

"Well, I hope our little "magic warrior" won't get lost in senseless daydreaming during actual battles!" Lilian teased.

"Hey, I wouldn't get lost! I'd just be...admiring nature!" Alistair made a defensive comeback, while reveling in the looks on their face. "Mission-act-my-age accomplished" He thought.

"Alright, so what category do y'all fall into? And how do I know mine?" Alistair questioned eagerly.

"You see, baby brother, yours truly is a battle-mage!" Seraphina boasted, as her tits grew more chaotic than ever, bouncing Alistair back into booby trance. "Your other sisters are mages with powerful magic. And about how to realize where you belong, you will have to shape your magic first."

"Shape my magic...??!" He asked.

"Yes brother! All magic are in a raw state from the onset. Picture this..." Seraphina explained. "Upon taking their first breath, babies accidentally activate their magic, causing all sorts of innocent mayhem — like diaper explosions top the list, I must say. But this raw magic is as useful as a rubber chicken without a squeak!"

They all burst into a fit of laughter as she continued... "Now, things get really interesting when folks eventually stumble upon the realization that they can shape this wacky raw magic into something truly extraordinary.

It's like discovering your hidden talent for juggling but instead, you're juggling talking flamingo hats and boomerangs made of cheese. So, let's say you figure out what your magic inclines towards, I don't know, say, making every sock dance the Macarena. What a time to be alive!"

The laughter cranked up an octave, as it seemed sarcasm runned through the entire family.

Lilian chipped in, snatching the limelight from Seraphina. "But here's the thing, dear brother, molding raw magic is no walk in the park. It takes intense concentration, enough to make a circus clown hold a serious poker face." She giggled.

"One momentary lapse in focus, and poof! Your magic transforms into something utterly ridiculous, like spontaneously growing chia pet eyebrows that belt out opera tunes. Who needs reality TV when there's raw magic around, right?"

"Wait, is this mage-craft 101 or a comedy show." Seymour thought, staring at his sisters in stitches.

"And the hilarious part? Different people have Oceans Eleven-like schemes when it comes to shaping their magic." Lilian elaborated.

"Some unfortunate souls painfully mold their magic to finite teleportation, never managing to rematerialize with their pants intact. Others delightfully discover they're fit to manipulate spaghetti, turning them into deadly weapons like... the feared noodle whip!"

The laughter grew into chortles...

"Tss! If I dont intervene, our little bother won't learn a thing." Lenore, the serene one, though as she interrupted. "It's all about concentrating to morph that raw chaos into specific powers."

"Now brother, I want you to stretch out both hands, close your eyes and open your mind." Lenore instructed, and Alistair complied, acting all shy of Lenore's strict persona. "Try to visualize your boundless magic in the shape of a sphere. Then gradually pour in your emotions by feeling and becoming one with it. When done the right way, the first manifestation of your magic should be in the light of your personality."

"Huh! What half-baked concept is that?" Seymour scoffed inwardly, but made an attempt anyway. Diving into the depths of his mind, it took a while, but he could see it now. A ball flowing calmly in the depths of his mind, emitting energy that caused a boundless mirage around it. It had many hues that he couldn't quite tell which color it was. But he tried his best to feel it and become it.

On the outside, it had been three hours since he started, and his siblings wore worried looks. But through her doppelgeist mage powers, Lenore could sense that something was up. "Here it comes!" She whispered, informing the others.

Suddenly, Alistair's palm began to emit a soft, pulsating blue light, illuminating the room. In complete stillness, the mild darkness in the dimly lit basement began to recede under its glow.

From the center of Alistair's joined palms, a small bud emerged, delicately caressed by the glowing blue light. The bud slowly started to unfurl its petals, revealing a stunning lotus flower. The lotus flower grew in size, each petal bore intricate patterns, glistening with tranquil luminescence.

"A lotus with petals expanding in a vivid hue of pastel blue...??!" Amelia asked with a puzzled look. "No! Not just blue I see orange as well."

Alistair opened his eyes to see all seven of his sisters humped over a bright lotus in his hands. "W-What the...?!" Seymour inner musings chimed at him.

"Not exactly orange!" Seraphina said, staring into the depths of the flower. "It's a dark brown color with a reddish-orange tinge, like russet. Besides that, I also see pink."

"Alright y'all, it has a color spectrum which includes hues of purple, pink, orange, and blue, reflecting the transition from daylight to darkness." Lenore elaborated, a bit lost in her own thoughts.

"That's...twilight! The color of twilight." Isabella finally chimed in.

"So what is this?!" Charlotte asked. "A Twilight Lotus?!"

***