MOMMY THERAPIST: FAMILY COUNSELING

During cross country season, Bryce and I ran.

Here's how practices went. First, our whole team did a little jog around the track. Then, we broke into pairs and stretched. Afterward, the team just kind of discombobulated, either regathering into a big, militant band of dorks or, like Bryce and I, fracturing into little triads and dyads.

Coach never expected us to stay at the track, or even on campus. So, after Bryce and I would depart, we'd run one giant loop around a big, open, walking park a couple blocks away, and then weave the long way home through the neighborhood. Our suburb was vast and old and private. There were massive lawns with giant trees and deep hedges through which we'd learned to trespass sight unseen.

We were also adorable, I might add. We matched in our regulation running outfits. This isn't terribly important to the story, reader, but if you had seen it you'd have remarked on it, too.

Cross country was the most extroverted thing I let myself do. It was also the only sport Mom let me do, I guess because it kept me from killing myself; but likely also because Bryce was interested in it (running kept him in shape during other sports' off-seasons). Bryce could do whatever he wanted; I could do cross country. Anything else might have cut into my therapy work. And God forbid I ever stopped being a twice-weekly victim of sexual and emotional abuse under Mom's watch.

Even cutting through yards, the properties were vast enough and the route we carved meandering enough that it would take us a little over an hour to get home. Whenever we finally got through the door, we were tired, we were smelly, and we were murderously thirsty.

So, when one day we came home to a cold dewy pitcher of lemonade on the counter, what else could we do? Granted, it was painfully sour. Our bodies needed water, not lemon juice. But if our bodies didn't want it, they didn't say complain. I finished my last glass before Bryce finished his. I watched him gulp his down. After that, he belched. I belched. The lemony gas was artificially sweet, cold, lovely.

Our younger sister Lily was sipping her own glass at the kitchen table. She peered over her shoulder at us and watched us congratulate ourselves on our burps. She made sure we saw that she was revolted.

Then Bryce and I proceeded wordlessly, on autopilot, up to our room. We kicked off our suffocating, grass-stained shoes and undressed over the AC vent beside our laundry hamper. Bryce's sweat-damp, smelly, naked body was looking better than mine. I idly noticed that we had developed matching farmer's tans. And if you want me to tell you about his dick, well, it looked like my brother's dick. Shaved, veiny, sweaty, red, whatever. The state of the man's dick directly after a run was nothing to ogle, folks. It needed a shower.

And it got one. I sat on the toilet dreading my impending therapy session while Bryce took his shower, then he sat on the toilet texting his girlfriend while I took mine. We toweled ourselves off, combed our hair, scrutinized our faces for pimples, all without saying much of anything. Then we hung up our towels and walked naked back into our bedroom.

A startled sound just outside our gaping bedroom door scared the fucking bejeezus out of me. Our intruder scurried away, out of sight, into the hallway. Bryce laughed.

"Maybe knock next time," he chortled. My twin sauntered across our bedroom carpet to the dresser and hopped into some briefs. He threw me a pair, too. Once we'd both safely stowed our junk, he went back to the open door and leaned out. "Hey Sis. You going to be okay?"

Lily stayed out in the hallway, so I couldn't tell how she answered.

Oh right, shit. Let me explain. Our little sister Lily had had selective mutism since she was a kid. Do you know what that is? It's kind of what it sounds like. She was, for all intents and purposes, mute. No talking, not ever. But with one exception: Mom. Carefully, quietly, and only with Mom. And of course, Mom never told us what she said. Classic Mom.

I hadn't heard my little sister's voice, her actual (non-coughing, non-yawning, non-sneezing) voice, since she was my little sister. Let's see: just last week she turned 18, so I guess that made it—holy shit—a decade? Wild. I couldn't even remember how she used to sound, much less imagine how she might sound today. I could only sort of remember how the timbre of it used to make me feel: annoyed, self-centered, protective. Does that make sense?

Anyhow, you got used to Lily's schtick. She still managed to say a lot. Her face and hands and body spoke for her.

Bryce stepped back into the room and welcomed her to follow. Lily entered the doorframe but came no further. Bryce stood aside as if to make way, but she leaned against the jamb and gazed coolly across the threshold at him. He towered over her, seemingly savoring being her mostly naked rakishly good-looking brother, daring her to be grossed out. Barefoot and all of five feet, she looked like a particularly little sister today. And for some reason, she had changed clothes.

She was wearing a new summer dress. It was lilac and simple and cute. It stretched across her modest chest, hung loose on her shoulders, and flared to just above her knee.

The next observation was one I made very privately and discreetly. Backlit by the sunny hallway, Lily's dress was slightly see-through; and so, leaned to one side with her legs apart and crossed at the ankle, it was possible to make out the entire slender shape of our sister's bottom half. Spunky butt, lean legs, glowing thigh gap. A couple of pendant necklaces of different lengths hung between her clavicles and just above her cleavage. These she fiddled with.

Odd, I know, to notice all this. But I guess we were all teens. Boobs and butts and stuff, you know. My hormone addled gaze didn't always mind, I guess, whose body it happened to be appreciating.

Lily pointed downstairs, then to her wrist, and then at the three of us. Time for our session with Mom, she meant.

I sighed the sigh I always sighed. I scrounged in the closet for a decent outfit. Mom required that her clients dress "smart casual." I had to look put-together. I threw on some good snug pants and a button-down shirt. I checked my hair in the closet mirror. And then at last I processed the baffling, unprecedented, incomprehensible thing my sister had just gesticulated to Bryce and me.

Time for: our session? "Our" who?

I glanced at Bryce. Bryce peered down at Lily. Lily stared up at Bryce. Bryce looked back at me. Lily rolled her eyes at the both of us, and shrugged off toward Mom's office. As she started to leave, she gave Bryce's mostly naked body one last judgmental look.

Maybe put some clothes on first.

Our sister left us stupefied. We gaped at the empty doorway. I know what I was thinking, but I have no idea what Bryce was thinking. She had disrupted our twin-sync. We could hear her bare feet padding down the hardwood stairs, and across the tiled foyer. They sounded nice.

Shit, was I thinking about my sister's body again? Just because her feet were dainty and cute, and just because she was kind of fastidious about cleanliness, so what? Sister's feet, schmister's feet. They were just feet. Sexy, bare, slightly sweaty feet that sort of smooched the tile as they stepped.

Bryce adjusted his junk in his underwear. Twin-sync reestablished.

But okay wait. We were all three going to counseling together. This was an incalculable predicament for me. Mom's mistreatment of me was either (a) a secret, or it was (b) not. Right? We had all somehow acclimated to living around it. Nothing ever, ever, was said by any family member about my twice weekly sessions with Mom, except to perhaps acknowledge that these sessions did in fact occur, and then only if it was directly relevant to the conversation at hand. Even then, such potentially dangerously related conversations everyone determinedly avoided. But so, it was an open secret. Right? Wasn't it?

So now today, all of a sudden, right now, I was going to enter a therapy session with Mom and my siblings. Secret or not, this was definitely fucking with the usual boundaries. What could this mean? What could Mom possibly be plotting? Surely she was not about to administer a harmless, rape-free therapy session? I could scarcely dare to imagine it.

Likelier, I figured, was that Mom had decided the time had come at last to rape me in front of Lily and Bryce, and to do away with all the pussyfooting and subterfuge. I sighed at the sheer plausibility. I'd had the nightmare who knows how many times: Here, brother, here sister, watch Mommy desecrate me for your viewing pleasure. You always knew it was happening. No, no, don't try to help. That will just make it worse.

One question had tortured me eternally: why had Mom chosen me as her sole victim? Bryce was the studlier twin, his charisma so much more attractive. Surely she could have gotten into his head just as she had mine, broken him down, gotten under his skin, etc. He was dumber than me, more gullible, and so offered an easier challenge. Surely Bryce would have been the logical child to start with?

Or if my intelligence was what drew her to me, then why did she pass over Lily? Her baby girl was positively cunning. She had gone ten years without speaking and still had straight A's. Plus, I mean, imagine a rape victim that doesn't talk! What a bonus! Was Mom simply not into girls? I could hardly believe that a monster like Mom even had sexual preferences. And my brain straight-up refused to compute that she sexually preferred me.

Yet there it was. Mom had raped me, and only me, twice a week, every week, for months on end. I could not comprehend it. In fact, shit, maybe that was the reason? That I was uncomprehending?

But then a crazy idea floated into my imagination, and my heart thrummed: what if, actually, she had decided to rape all three of us today?

Please forgive me if this thought not only failed to disturb me, but filled me with clandestine hope. Not that I wanted to see my brother or sister subjected to the cruel perversions of our mother. But I badly, miserably wished to stop being so alone with Mom.

Chapter 2

When I got to the door of Mom's office, I could tell that I had interrupted whatever conversation she and Lily had been having. My sister squinted at me. I shrugged. I was too distracted by the churning of my insides to interpret nonverbals right now.

I entered and took a spot the only place I could, on the other end of the loveseat. There wasn't much space left between my sister's butt and mine. Bryce's muscly ass would be a snug fit.

"How was practice today?" Mom asked casually, checking her watch.

"Fine," I said. I was feeling sort of hot all of a sudden.

Mom looked at me with just the slightest hint of something in her gaze.

"Are you curious about what's going on here today?" she asked, smiling cattily. She crossed one tightly trousered leg over the other, her bare foot's rosy toes freshly painted white. She twiddled two of them at me. She watched me watch her do this.

"Family therapy?" I asked cautiously, daring to hope. I could feel sweat starting to form on my brow.

Mom shrugged playfully, enjoying my suspense.

Lily watched our back-and-forth, carefully declining to bring attention to herself.

"Was Bryce on his way?" Mom asked, bending her head to the side and cracking her neck.

"He just needed to get dressed," I reported.

"Hm," she answered. She bent her head the other way, and popped that side too.

It was one minute past the hour. If I ever showed up late like this, hooo doggy. Just the once and never again! Erections bled a lot when they bled, did you know?

Mom took a deep, vaguely consternated breath. I gave her what may accidentally have been a knowing look.

Just then we could all hear Bryce come thwomping down the stairs in the foyer, half-jogging, and humming to himself.

"Hey gang," he sang as he gave the office door a quick rap-a-tap and strolled in.

"Shut the door," Mom reminded him.

Bryce did a funny little backwards hop and grabbed the door. I wondered if Mom had locked the knob ahead of time, like she always did with me. It clicked shut. Bryce tipped an invisible hat to Mom.

"Thank you. Now come and sit. You're late."

"Uhh, where exactly do I go?" My brother sounded worried that he was about to have to squeeze onto the loveseat between his brother and sister for the full length of the session. Secretly I knew he loved this idea. He adored Lily and me.

"Wherever you please," Mom smiled.

Bryce put on an unconvincing show of distaste. But then he plopped himself down between us, not caring how big his ass was relative to ours. He threw his arms around Lily and me and gave us both big brotherly headlock kisses on top of our scalps. I was used to it. Lily poked him hard in the gut. So Bryce stuffed her face into his armpit. Lily went for his ribs. Bryce barked, and grabbed her by the wrist. With her free hand she tore at his ear. Bryce swore and rocked her whole body around by the neck.

Mom was doing a terrific job of containing her fury.

She was furious, right? Again, if I were to act even half as disrespectful as my siblings were acting right now, Mom would make me do terrible, terrible things for the duration of that session, and probably the next few sessions, too.

"Feeling chummy today?" Mom giggled at Bryce. Uh-oh. She was most definitely furious.

"Guys," I laughed uncomfortably. I put a serious hand on Bryce's thigh.

Bryce released Lily's mussed, frizzy, beet-red head. She snorted in loathing, readjusted her dress's straps, and fussed with her hair as Bryce gingerly felt at his ear.

Oddly, I found myself jealous that Lily was sitting next to Bryce and not me. I had noticed when she fixed her straps that she wasn't wearing a bra. The fabric of her dress looked soft and stretchy. Her warm little butt looked nice to be squeezed up next to. Wait. What had gotten into me?

"Alright, then," Mom began by clearing her throat. "Let's talk about the lemonade you all drank this afternoon."

Chapter 3

"Methylenedioxymethamphetamine," Mom repeated carefully.

We sat in heady disbelief. The woman had drugged us. I knew I ought to be upset, but my stomach was taut with excitement. Probably thanks to the metha-...loxy-...phetamine? I was also starting to feel very hot sandwiched up next to my scorching brother.

Mom waited calmly as we processed the news. I didn't exactly know what I should be feeling. I wasn't familiar with the drug she had said. I was definitely feeling something. It was either the drugs or the anticipation, or both.

Lily had gone pale. She was small. The drugs had probably already gotten to her pretty hard. The attentive knit that usually notched her brow had melted away, retreated in drug-addled bewilderment. She grabbed a throw pillow, brought her knees up and hugged them to her, then curled into a tight, pillow-stuffed ball beside Bryce on the loveseat.

"Amphetamine?" Bryce asked stupidly. "You gave us meth?"

In his defense, there wasn't much other way to ask Mom things but stupidly once she got like this. This was a side of Mom Bryce hadn't met. This was the side that knew how to put you in a stupid-feeling box and keep you there until she was done with you. To be fair, I could not recall Mom ever having drugged me (unless you counted her perfume); so, in a way, this was new for both of us.

"I did not give you meth," Mom frowned. "I gave you ecstasy."

"What's the fucking difference?!" Bryce spat.

Mom rolled her eyes. "Well, for starters, meth is dangerous. I would never endanger my children."

"You gave us drugs without telling us, Mom. How is that not endangering us?"

"Second of all, meth is a psychostimulant. Ecstasy is an empathogen. Psychostimulants raise your brain's processing speed. Empathogens raise your capacity for compassion and affection."

Bryce stood up off the couch and stomped across no man's land toward Mom. He stuck an angry finger in her face and struggled through what he said next.

"You—you did wrong. You did a crime. We're your kids."

Mom reached up and gently wrapped her fist around Bryce's finger. She held his digit there in her warm, motherly grip, until his rage drained away. Lily and I stared on, unblinking.

"MDMA-assisted therapy is not a crime," Mom explained calmly. "I am certified to practice its use in a carefully moderated setting. And I can think of no safer space than our home, nor a more trustworthy moderator than your mother. Okay sweetie?" She squeezed his finger affectionately. "So relax. You are safe." She licked her lip, brought his finger to her mouth, and gave it a kiss on the tip. "Now go sit back down."

Bryce withdrew his finger. He gazed at it in disbelief, as though it had somehow betrayed him. But he did not rebut Mom. He turned around red-cheeked and, without looking at Lily or me, retook his spot between us. When he sat back down, he felt lighter, emptier, his muscled frame spent of whatever had propelled it from the sofa just moments before.

"Now, how are you each feeling?"

We didn't respond.

"Jake, let's start with you."

"Oh. I guess I'm feeling..." I had to check in with myself. I felt like being honest. How was I feeling?

Here were some facts. I was sweating. I was thirsty. I kept looking at my sister's feet. My stomach was in knots, but the knots felt good somehow?

My heart, too, was beating a mile a minute, but this wasn't out of felt like worry or fear. Each little beat fluttered inside my chest like a hummingbird wing in timelapse. It was profoundly calming.

And meanwhile, my head felt light. My head felt light. There was a feelable, heady element to the daylight burning in through the windows and radiating off the hardwood, a tang to the twinkles on the burnished metal features around Mom's office, a sweet saltiness in the sheen of my brother's leg hair.

"I feel ... light-headed," I answered chipperly. I was beaming. My Mom raised one eyebrow at my mismatch of content to delivery, then nodded her approval.

"And Lily, sweetie, you doing okay?"

Lily didn't move.

"Does it feel good to be all balled up like that?"

Lily's toes curled. She rubbed one foot with the other and dug her heels into her butt. The skirt of her dress had ridden up, but she didn't seem to care how much of her was showing. We could see the tan lengths of her thighs, how they paled softly toward her butt, and down there in the shadows, her panties' mint green cotton gusset straining, soft and slim, against her—

Ahem.

Something in my smart casual pants stirred.

Lily peeked out from behind her pillow and nodded almost imperceptibly to Mom.

Mom smiled back.

"Good girl," she said. "Bryce, darling?"

Bryce sat quiet. The dumb idiot couldn't wrap his head around what was going on. I wondered if he wondered if the sexual abuser in the house that he'd been so politely ignoring was now coming for him, too. All of a sudden, I almost wanted to laugh. In fact, I did. Mom shot me a look. I quieted. She looked gently back to Bryce."I know this isn't right," he began. "This isn't right."

"Oh no?" Mom frowned thoughtfully. "How can we make it right?" This question, her delivery, subtly off balanced my brother.

"I don't know," he choked.

"Here," she said, and tossed him a cold bottle of water. Mom kept bottled water in a handsome little fridge on the floor beneath her armchair's side table. It was expensive, delicious, natural spring water. She had long ago stopped offering any to me.

Bryce caught the bottle in his lap. Dew rapidly condensed on the bottle's plastic. He opened the bottle, took a swig. Light from outside shimmered brightly inside the water. As Bryce gulped, I could taste the water, feel the sun's effect on in his water, feel the water's effect on his insides in my own throat. I could feel it shimmer down into his belly. My own gut's knots softened a bit, relaxed.

He capped the bottle at half-full, slotted it between his thighs. Its plastic crinkled. His thighs were hairy and tan and smelled like soap. His crotch bulged, too, more conspicuously than mine, but just as confusedly but contentedly. He had worn running shorts, the fool. I sort of wanted to touch that cock through the soft mesh fabric. Would my brother mind? I kept this question to myself. Lily caught me staring at his crotch, though. She stared at it too. The face she made at whatever face I made was hilarious to me.

But I knew better than to laugh a second time.

"That better?" Mom asked. "You were thirsty."

Bryce nodded.

"You ready to continue?" Mom asked.

Bryce uncapped his water again, chugged the rest of it by squeezing the bottle loudly into his throat, burped, set the empty bottle down by his feet, and nodded.

Lily nodded.

I watched these two drugged, overheated, utterly bewildered teens nod, then looked at Mom, that beautiful monster across the room from us. She looked right back at me.

For the first time in years, in so many painful years, the face I saw there comforted me.

Chapter 4

"Jen," Bryce tried it out. "Jenny. Jen-nay. I love you Jen-nay." He was starting to feel it, too.

"Jen will do," Mom corrected. "Or Jennifer." She brushed something off her thigh. Her hair was up in a neat bun. She wore tailored trousers, by the way, goldenrod. They fit her tightly, and came up high onto her hips. Into them was tucked a sexy white top, no bra of course, though through the unbuttoned goldenrod blazer she wore little of her feminine anatomy could be seen. When she caught me staring I glanced away at my siblings.

Bryce was massaging his jaw.

My own jaw was tense. I knuckled at the muscles, syncing back up with my twin. I leaned forward just the slightest bit and peered over at our little sister.

Lily was feeling at a spot of razor burn on her shin. My eyes fell once again to her feet. Her toes were clutched over the edge of the sofa cushion. Her mint green cotton shadows whispered salaciously to me, and for the first time in our lifelong relationship I felt no shame peering in.

Lily noticed, followed, my gaze. But if she felt any sort of discomfort, offense, or shame, she did not show it. In fact, she shifted her feet a bit, moving her heels a little further apart, and uncovered more of herself. I saw the fabric of her panties dimple along the cleft of some shape I'd never seen inside them. What this did to me was hard to explain.

When I looked back up into my sister's eyes, she was looking into mine. A chemical reaction occurred. A giddy love like I had dreamed about but never touched. I think she touched it, too.

I burped and felt a little dizzy.

"Lily, can I ask you to stand?" Mom asked. Lily looked dizzy, too. "Please?"

Lily did not get up.

No one moved.

"It's okay, dear. You can stand up. No one's going to hurt you."

Lily let her feet down onto the floor. She handed her pillow to Bryce. She stood up, ran the flats of her palms across her dress, smoothing the fabric, and, well, stood there.

"Come a little closer to me, please?"

Lily did not want to do that.

"Lily. Closer." Mom's voice changed just the tiniest bit. She could dial it up or down by the decimal.

"Mom, she clearly doesn't want—" Bryce began.

"Jennifer," Mom snapped.

Bryce scoffed meekly. I noticed the bulge in his pants soften just a little. Mine, meanwhile, did not. It probably should have, yes, but it had learned the hard way—so to speak—to remain at attention until dismissed or otherwise discharged.

Lily glanced over her shoulder at Bryce. We gave her twin looks of uncertainty.

"Lily, look at me sweetheart," Mom relaxed into a smile. "I know this is new for you. But isn't it a nice sort of new?"

Lily turned back to Mom. She fidgeted, looking like she might curl back into a ball at any moment. But she met Mom's gaze.

"Do me a favor? Let's take some deep breaths together, okay? Boys, you can do this too."

And we did. We drew in deep as Mom counted slowly. Bryce even closed his eyes. I did not. I watched Mom's chest heave as she inhaled from her diaphragm. Her blazer parted. Hello, Mom's boobs. Then on cue we exhaled together, and Mom's boobs went back into hiding. Another deep inhalation. Boobs out. And exhale. Boobs in.

By the end of several breaths, Lily was standing more relaxedly. She'd shifted her weight to one leg. She had put her hands on her hips.

Mom gestured to the center of the floor between us, and Lily stepped into it.

"How do you feel?"

Lily took another deep breath, held it in, and quietly let it out. Her arms did a sort of breathe-in, breathe-out show of relaxation as she did this. This pleased Mom.

"That's good, sweetie. Here." Now Mom stood. She stepped to Lily. "May I give you a hug?"

Lily opened up her arms, and Mom folded her into an embrace. She gripped her daughter by the small of her back, hugged her tight. Lily sighed. Mom nuzzled her head. The hug lasted.

Bryce and I exchanged curious looks, and in that instant I knew that he fully understood where this was going. And yet I could also tell that he wasn't worried in the slightest. I wasn't either, for that matter. Our mother and sister kept hugging.

Shit, by jove, I was thrilled. Finally, some family counseling! God knows we needed it. I patted Bryce on the thigh. He put his hand on mine. It was dry and warm and familiar. We synced up like this as we watched Mom draw her fingernails lightly up and down the skin of Lily's back.

Chapter 5

"Jennifer," Bryce spoke up.

Mom stood with Lily in the center of the room. She looked at me over her daughter's shoulder, apparently confused for a moment at who had said her name, then looked at Bryce.

"Yes?"

"Why did you give us ecstasy?"

Mom's eyes narrowed.

But Bryce's curiosity felt earnest to me. He was feeling the high.

"I'm curious, too," I added.

Bryce gave my hand a subtle squeeze.

"Well," Mom conceded with a nod. "Let's talk about it."

She patted Lily on the shoulder and released her from her embrace. By now Lily had sort of melted into Mom and didn't want to be let go. Mom murmured something to her, reached down, and gave her cute little butt a friendly pat. Lily unclasped from the hug and recomposed herself. She stayed standing next to Mom.

"I gave you all a compassion and affection enhancing drug because I wanted you to get a sense of the kind of connection that is possible in a family like ours."

"A family like ours?" Bryce echoed thoughtfully. The ecstasy had thoroughly unwrinkled him at this point. Nothing was about to upset him. Nothing could be dark or worrying. He and I were in a beautiful sunlit room, with two beautiful sunlit women, and each of us sitting hand-in-hand with the man we trusted most in the universe.

"Our connection is special, isn't it, Jake?" Mom suddenly turned to me.

"Um," I gulped. "I suppose it is?" But I was gulping and dodging the question more out of habit and muscle memory than out of concern for whatever it was Mom was angling at. This is how I noticed that negative emotions had sort of ceased to mean. Whoa. So this trip we were all on was about to be a fuck of a thing.

"And why do you 'suppose it is'?" Mom mocked me. What, so I don't get Friendly Counselor Mom?

Obviously, I wasn't sure how to answer. What was she trying to get me to say?

Normally I could count on panic to guide me, like a knife at my throat, toward the correct, non-lethal response. But now that I had nothing but useless logic, silly words, and a raging hardon, I couldn't tell where the incorrect responses might be hidden. And worse, I wasn't remotely worried about triggering any of them.

Bryce held up my hand in his. He showed this to me. He showed it to Mom and Lily.

"This is special, right?" He even hooked his fingers through mine. He kissed the back of my hand, dryly but endearingly. He lowered my hand into his lap.

I kept a straight face, I think. I don't know. But reader, please note that he planted my hand squarely onto his junk. Oh dear. This was a new way of syncing up.

Again, not that I was worried about touching my brother's cock through his shorts. After all, I could summon only a helpless afterimage of fear or worry to mind (that, and the image of my brother's fully erect cock just a couple layers of fabric away).

Fuck, I really wanted to touch my brother's naked cock all of a sudden. I reeled, connecting dots I hadn't known were there, much less connectable. Suddenly I felt like I'd wanted to want my brother's cock all my life, but hadn't known how to want to. Today, Ecstasy had finally shown me the way.

"Bryce, that's lovely," Mom affirmed. She looked back to me. "But I believe I asked your brother."

Wait what?

"Answer me, Jake. Why is our connection special?" And here she slipped into another voice, a sexual voice, a predatory voice I'm pretty sure neither of my siblings had ever heard before. My sister's face, and my brother's erection, both seemed to confirm this.

"Um, right," I said. I needed to figure out how to say what Mom wanted me to say without saying, you know, all the stuff she typically didn't want me to say. Which was a lot. Again, I wasn't nervous. I was just used to playing this game correctly. "Because ... you love me so much?"

"I do," she laughed. "You're my baby boy. But how do you, Jake, know that this connection, our love, is special?"

"J-Jennifer," I started. "I don't know! I guess I know your love is special because ... of how you—" (rape me) "—always try to help me?"

Mom marched right up in front of me all of a sudden, Lily trailing behind her by the hand. I had chosen poorly the snug, fashionable pants that I was wearing. I guess I had grown used to having to remove them by this point?

"Stand up, Jake," Mom commanded. But with how close she was standing to me I didn't have the room to stand up. I looked at her uncertainly.

Bryce squeezed my hand. Uncertainty: vanquished. I squeezed back, then let go.

I stood right the fuck up. I mashed my big ugly smartly dressed frontside up against my Mom's hot little smartly dressed frontside. My erection jabbed her in the abdomen through my pants. I could also feel now just how sweaty my back was. Our noses touched. I wanted to lick her. Somehow I held back. The rules forbade it.

"Hi," she whispered.

Without letting go of Lily, she put her free hand on my butt. She didn't seem to mind the sweat. She pulled me hard, like hard, into her. My cock was forced flat against her tummy. She dug her nails into my ass. I was fully unprepared for how good this would feel, so when the pain kicked open the pod bay doors and unleashed a monsoon of oxytocin into my brain I couldn't help but moan with unrepentant lust into my mother's waiting kiss.

She snickered and poked her tongue across the gap between my lips. My poor mouth was happy for the violation. Mom had always had the most impeccable breath, the mintiest spit, the smartest things to say, one tongue to another. As she had learned so well, had positively weaponized, I couldn't help wanting her. I grabbed her by the back of her head and pressed her skull to mine. I just. Fucking. Nnnngggh. If you don't get it, you don't get it. I needed my mom's mouth inside my mouth.

Bryce finally said something.

"Uhhh, guys?"

Mom bit my tongue and ended the kiss. I giggled in pain. She pushed me back onto the loveseat. Sweat damp clothing rejoined sweat damp upholstery. I tasted pennies.

Bryce scrabbled away from me until his back was against the opposite arm of the loveseat. He stared at me googly eyed.

Lily, still clinging to Mom's hand, had gone completely owl: full moon irises, head on a swivel, mute.

"What?" I asked. I was used to all this. They needed to catch the fuck up.

Bryce was at a loss. His boner wasn't. But he was.

Lily slipped her hand free of Mom's and stepped away. She didn't look upset. She just needed a better vantage point.

"What?" I guffawed. "As if you didn't know? As if we didn't all know this whole time?"

For some reason, I was laughing. This was hilarious to me. The cat was out of the bag! I was free! Sort of. That's how it felt, anyway. I admit the office door was probably locked.

Mom laughed too, but just a single haughty giggle. She kept her eyes locked serenely onto mine as she wiped a bit of spittle off the corner of her mouth, tucked her blouse back into her pants, and fixed her bun. All eyes turned to her.

Mom took a few barefoot steps back into the center of the room. She turned to us and opened her blazer, withdrew one arm, and then the other. She looked down at her own nipples poking through the fabric of her blouse. Then she went and draped the garment over the back of her chair. She sat. She crossed her legs. She folded her arms across her abdomen, just below her boobs. She laughed again.

"My beautiful, perfect, cowardly children," she said, basking in her machinations. "Let's chat, shall we?"

Chapter 6

"Lily, why don't you relax on the sofa while your brothers try a little exercise with me?" Mom offered soothingly.

Lily, despite her pleasurable disinhibition, seemed to be stuck on some sort of spectatorial loop.

Mom snapped her fingers. Lily came to. She blushed, and returned to our loveseat.

"Bryce, Jake, I want you boys to come sit in front of me on the floor."

I got up and found a spot on the floor to sit. Been here, done this. I plopped right down.

Bryce was slower on the draw. He stood only after I had sat. He walked cautiously toward Mom, then came to a stop beside me. He remained standing.

"Sit?" Mom said gently. Bryce gave her a strange look, but finally sat.

"Hi Bro," I said, patting his thigh.

He nodded once, but said nothing.

"Alright then!" Mom began. She spoke down at us from up on her leather armchair, like a teacher holding forth to her schoolchildren. "Thank you both for following that simple instruction. You ready for the next one?"

She waited for both of us to say we were.

"Terrific. Now, first, I need you both to turn and sit facing each other. You're going to need to look each other in the eye for the entire duration of the exercise. You may blink, of course, but otherwise please hold each other's gaze. This is crucial. I will be watching."

I looked at Bryce. Bryce looked at me. We turned on our butts and sat facing each other cross-legged.

"Good. No, Bryce, look at your brother, not at me. Now Jake, I'm going to have you go first. You get to ask your brother anything you want, okay? Try to ask a thoughtful question. And Bryce, I need you to answer as honestly as you can. Can you both do that?"

"I think so," I said. I wasn't sure what I was allowed to ask, but it sounded straightforward enough. Heck, it almost sounded therapeutic.

"Go ahead," Bryce said, staring oddly at me.

I needed a second to think of a question.

Bryce watched me think.

I watched him watch me think. It was a little distracting. He looked like me. He looked so much like me. The tiny ways in which we did not look alike, and there were hundreds, kind of melted away the longer we stared at each other.

"Bryce," I began. "What are you thinking about right now?"

Mom didn't intervene. This was an acceptable question.

"Huh," Bryce chortled. "I guess I'm thinking about you and mom making out."

"Right," I said. He was smiling, at least. This was almost nice. Not only was the secret out, but Bryce was finding ways to laugh about it. I really, really needed Bryce to be okay with everything.

"Bryce, now you ask a question," Mom said.

"Okay, stud," he said. "Here's my question: What the fuck?"

I laughed out loud. Mom cleared her throat. I went silent.

"Answer him," she said. For real?

"Uhhh," I struggled. "So, wait. Your question is: what the fuck?"

"Yeah man. Yes. I need to know the truth. No judgment, I promise. But: what the fuck?"

I looked reflexively to Mom.

"Eye contact," she chided. I half expected her to reach down and slap me. I looked back at Bryce.

"Right. Okay. So you want to know, like, what exactly that was about?"

"I believe my question was: What the fuck?"

"Uh-huh," I nodded at him. He looked at me expectantly. "Okay, right. Let's talk about that I guess. Here is the truth. Here it comes." I was giving Mom every possible opportunity to stop this from happening. "Mom—Jen—Jennifer ..."

But Mom wasn't stopping me.

"She touches me. And stuff."

Bryce shook his head, disapproving of my answer.

"Nuh-uh. 'Mom touches you? And stuff?' That's not what I saw dude. You guys were very much mutual on the touching front."

"Yes. Right."

"So Jake," he said. He reached out his hands. I offered mine. He held them. "It's me, man," he said. "It's me. Speak now, or forever hold your peace: What. The. Fuck?"

"Oh jeez," I said, and let out an immense sigh. Even on ecstasy, this was a lot. "I don't remember when it started, exactly. At first it seemed like Mom was seeing me as a real counselor. Like, we were both taking it seriously. We talked about goals. We talked about my problems. My behavior, my body language, my emotions. She listened. She asked interesting questions. She was great. She like, really helped me."

I wondered what face Mom was making. I did not look away from Bryce. Bryce's face was nice to look at anyway. It looked like mine, but generally less unhappy.

"Anyway, at some point, I don't remember when or why, everything started changing. She started making every session about my sex life. She started getting meaner. She started ... showing herself to me. That's how I found out she always locked the door. And she kept getting meaner. Like hitting me. Slapping me. Scratching me. Throwing things at me. She would make me—" boy, my mouth was dry. "She would make take off my pants, and my underwear, so that she could spank me. But then she would make me keep them off. For the whole session. Then, I don't know, it escalated pretty quickly from there."

"She showed herself to you?"

"He answered your question, Bryce," Mom interrupted. "Jake, honey, that was marvelous. Now it's your turn again."

"Okay, uh—"

"But first," Mom cleared her throat. "Another rule. Each time one of you answers, from now on, I need you to strip off a piece of clothing. Starting now, with you Jake."

"Oh shit," Bryce laughed. "Are we getting spankings?"

"Keep it up and we'll see," Mom scoffed harmlessly. I broke the eye contact rule again to look at her. She looked back at me. Her harmlessness became something else. I looked back at Bryce.

"Are you taking something off?" he asked.

"I guess," I said. "It feels a little bit silly. We only just got dressed."

I unbuttoned my shirt. It felt like it took ages with three pairs of eyes staring at me.

Oh, yes, Lily was still very much engaged. Especially after our mother's latest addition to the ruleset. She sat against one arm of the loveseat with her legs stretched out across both cushions, her toes just barely able to tickle the other arm. She stared at her twin brothers on the floor, seated holding hands, and was visibly thrilled at our gradually intensifying circumstances.

"Eye contact, Jake. Final warning."

Shit. I looked away from Lily, back at Bryce. For good this time.

"Right," I said, steeling my gaze. "Okay bro. You ready for this?"

"Is ... that your question?"

"No, no," I squinted. It was like he was flirting with me. I squeezed his hands. He squeezed back. "Here is my question. I hope you're ready."

"I was born ready."

"When we were sitting on the sofa earlier, why did you put my hand in your lap?"

Lily snorted. Mom remained quiet. Mom had noticed the touching, of course. Nothing that happened in her office could be "news" to her. She saw all.

I stared at Bryce defiantly.

"Easy one," Bryce didn't even blink. He stripped off his shirt, threw it behind him. "Because I wanted your hand to feel how hard my cock was."

"Whoa," I said simply. Bryce grabbed my hands again.

"My turn! Jake, did you like how hard my cock was?"

"Yeah, I did," I said suddenly, like way too suddenly, holy shit.

Again, a snort from the sofa. A fit of them in fact.

I had come barefoot in pants, underwear, and a button-down to this session, so next went the pants. I had to sort of roll onto my back to peel them off, making keeping eye contact tricky but, amusingly enough, not impossible. Bryce smirked back at me as he helped tug the pants off my feet.

"Right on," Bryce said proudly, and nodded his approval as he clasped my hands and helped me sit back up. I came back up a little too quick and experienced a very salient blast of ecstasy. I might have even blushed. "Your turn, you horny little slut."

"Okay," I laughed, probably visibly shocked at how much I liked Bryce talking to me like that. But I had a good one for him. "Have you ever masturbated while thinking about our sister naked?"

"Oh of course," he guffawed. "Have I ever! Do you want details?"

A throw pillow flew in from out of nowhere and smacked Bryce in the face. From behind it came another noise, too, this one not quite a snort.

Bryce raised up off his butt, tugged his shorts down, then slid them off his feet. He stared at me intently as he did this. He knew I wanted to look down. Somehow, I didn't.

"Jake," he nodded slyly. We each sat now in nothing but our briefs, facing each other, holding hands. There was a palpable horniness to the sweat between our palms.

"Bryce," I responded.

"Are you excited to show me your beautiful cock?"

"I am," I professed.

This sent Bryce into bashful hysterics. I really, really wanted to suck his still-hidden cock.

I got up on my knees this time and made a little show of slowly and sensuously pulling down my briefs. I wasn't exactly sure how to make this appealing, but I think that only added to the entertainment factor. When my cock sprang free of the elastic waistband, even Mom laughed. (Had she had lemonade, too?) And so out, now, was my cock. I sat back down, bare ass on the floor. I kept staring at Bryce. Bryce kept staring at me. His eyes darted down every now and then, but Mom didn't call foul. When he looked back up, the effect of what he'd seen was visible in his gaze.

With respect to Lily, I was acutely aware that this was distinctly different from earlier. When she had seen us step naked out of the bathroom, I hadn't been fully engorged, and she hadn't simply sat and stared at either of our cocks like I was fairly confident she was doing to me now.

"You going to ask me something or what?" Bryce asked, bringing me to. He rubbed his thumb on the back of my hand.

"Uh, yes," I said. I was so fucking horny. Fuck. I squeezed his hands again. "May I please suck your cock?"

And just like that, I had asked my brother, straight-up, if I could suck his cock.

I heard Lily gasp, stifle a laugh, instead emitting a sort of hiccup. The couch cushions jostled.

Mom made a small noise of intellectual approval, too, as though letting her clients know she was intrigued by this avenue of discussion and wished for us to go on.

"Sure," Bryce grinned, then looked down at his monstrously hard cock inside his briefs, "if you can fit me in that wimpy little mouth of yours."

A little cheesy, but yeah. Fuck. Oh man.

He sat up on his knees and tugged his briefs down without any pomp or circumstance. I rolled forward onto my elbows, haphazardly keeping eye contact with him as I gazed up from beneath his cock. I grabbed it, just like that. I squeezed it. It was bone-hard and bright red. It was terrific.

And for fuck's sake, I finally sucked my brother's cock. Did you have to skip all that other shit to get to this part? I would have, too, reader. My brother's cock was exactly what I'd always wanted it to be. It was essentially my cock, sure, but so much fatter, and stronger, and shaved? Come on. What a treat.

It actually kind of tasted like nothing. But the smooth soft skin, the veiny terrain of his shaft, and the coarse granular plane of stubble in my fist as I pumped the base of his cock (that by no means was making it all the way into my throat), all of these textures had a kind of flavor, you know? Kit-Kats don't taste the same if you leave them out for a day. Texture is flavor. My brother's cock was perfectly crisp, freshly unwrapped, my new very favorite junk food.

I kept my eyes locked on his the best I could as I gripped the base of his shaft and endeavored to shove as much of him as I could into my throat. Turns out pornstars make this look significantly less impossible than it really is; because I mean, wow, fuck deep throating. Granted, yes, this frustrated me. I really, really wanted my brother all the way down my throat. Like, I wanted that to feel great for me. But instead, it hurt like shit.

I gagged, and then I gagged. And then I found myself dangerously near to vomiting. His cock was too big around, my throat too small. My wimpy little mouth was positively not having it.

Bryce, meanwhile, was staring down at me, half-squinting, puffing through his nose, his smile frozen in irreal lust as he held eye contact with me. I guess what he saw looking back at him must have been pretty neat: his own face, more or less, thirstily sucking at his fat cock, gagging on it, groaning in moany, happy disappointment, but then trying again.

I pulled him out of my throat, gagged, and mumbled another apology. I held him in my fist, jerking him off, and spit on his cock. I had plenty of saliva, too much even, to spare. His cock was happier for it; things had been getting a little sticky.

I looked at my brother's face to see how he was processing the fact that I was using my spit for lube. He wasn't processing it so much as getting very close to cumming with it.

With my other hand, I held myself up and massaged my throat, coaxing it back into a relaxed state. I gave him a kind of an embarrassed look. Sorry, my wimpy little throat needed a sec.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," he said, eager for me to continue doing whatever. "Jake!" He laughed, near to orgasm. "You're doing so good! You're sucking my cock!"

Yeah, I was doing good! I lifted up his cock and licked his scrotum, French kissed it like the lover that it was. Why not, you know? I sucked his soft stretchy scrotum skin. I liked it. I pulled a nut into my mouth just to see if I could. Turns out I could. I kept pumping him with my hand while I played with the shifty squirmy round thing in my mouth.

I had had to break eye contact, I realized a moment later, as I savored the soft stubbly salt of his nutsack, but Mom hadn't seemed to mind. I craned my neck and peered up at him. I popped his nut back out of my lips so that he could watch. I lapped at his inner thigh. I licked up the length of his cock. I suckled somewhat noisily at his tip. I watched him watch me do these things for him.

"Jake," he gasped, and then gasped again, "q-quick question."

"Mhm," I replied. I wrapped my mouth again around the fat head of his cock and tried to get a good seal. I tongued wildly at him inside my mouth. More saltiness here, the warm silly liquid of his precum slipping cutely all over me. I kissed it up off his pee hole, sort of pulling a noodle of it out of his urethra and onto my lips. I slurped this up. I tasted the salty nothing of it, swallowed it, and then licked the pee hole clean again while smiling like the devil up at my brother.

"Can I—" he seized up for a second, body trembling. I could feel his balls tighten, "—can I cum now? Like in your—do you—can I—?"

I popped him out of my mouth again. I ducked down so I could give him the longest, lovingest lick I knew how, from the back of his perfect scrotum, along his perineum, up his long trembling spit-soaked shaft, to the once-again-precum-drooling head of his cock. I swallowed him whole, as deep as I could, maybe half of him. I gagged again. Then I batted my eyelashes at him.

"C-can I?!" he asked urgently.

"You had probably better," Mom told him.

Thank you, Mom. I got the best goddamn seal going, and sucked hard as I jerked my brother's cock into my mouth, the super-fast, blurry-fisted way I always did when I was about to make myself cum.

He hadn't started ejaculating, but I felt the first orgasmic tremor surge through him. His knees twitched, his thighs flexed, and he grasped the back of my head for support. He wheezed epiphanically. And I milked him, baby. I moaned on his cock. I was so fucking proud. I lavished his cock with my tongue. I moaned his name over and over onto his cock, even though it only sounded like mmrlmmnn each time. I sucked, relaxed, sucked, relaxed, sucked on his cock. I was ready to literally vacuum the cum out of him if it wasn't willing to come peacefully.

But at last, that first glorious spurt blasted the back of my mouth, like a congratulatory slap on the back: good job, Bro, you successfully sucked your first cock to completion. I moaned high-pitched with delight, almost entirely by accident. Then the next spurt came. I kept moaning. And the next spurt. Wait, okay, wait now. Wow. This was a lot, Bryce, I think my next moans tried to inform him. As if he could do anything about it.

His squinted gaze was a neon beam of bliss. Another squirt, less forceful but still voluminous, tumbled out of his cock onto my tongue. My cheeks were full. He was making a stuttering, semi-involuntary sort of tsh-tsh-tsh noise through his pursed lips. Still more cum was falling out of him.

Sadly, I had to pull him out. I was running out of room for both his cock and his cum.

Finally able to close my mouth and breathe through my nose, I could finally taste. My brother's fresh cum was lemony, deeply salty, and oddly sweet, like artificial sweetener. It was good. I began to swallow it.

And fuck me, I couldn't.

Have you ever taken a shot, reader? Like of liquor? You know how it's actually kind of a surprising amount of liquid if you throw it back all at once, and how it can hurt to swallow if you don't get your throat all the way around it on the first try? Well, this was that same amount of liquid, but the consistency of runny snot; that is, much, much more ridiculous to try to swallow.

My brother's cum seemed not to understand the one house rule my throat humbly asked that all guests abide: when I swallow, you go down. I'd swallow at Bryce's cum, and maybe a tiny bit would slip through into my belly, but the rest would stay stubbornly in my throat, unbudging, to say nothing of the heavy salty mouthful still waiting on my tongue.

"Sh-show me," Bryce muttered, and tapped a finger on my cheek. I craned my chin up and opened my mouth carefully so as not to spill. I was glad for a break from attempting to swallow the bucket he had just poured into me. I showed him proudly what he'd done.

Then I heard shuffling, and suddenly my sister was peering down into my open, cum-filled mouth, too. I wasn't the least bit embarrassed. Fuck, I was so proud.

Lily shook her head, not in disapproval, but in amazement. She patted me. She wiped a little bit of what I assume was runaway cum off my cheek. Aww. And then she waved bye, stepped back, and disappeared from view. I heard her get back onto the couch.

I was still locked onto Bryce's gaze. He gawked, mystified, down into my cummy maw like it was a magical pensieve. Then he gazed with ancient, evolutionary admiration into my tear-damp, bloodshot eyes. He tucked his finger under my chin and closed my mouth for me.

"Swallow," he smiled. I swallowed. It ... still didn't work.

But I swallowed again. A whole bunch of it squelched down on the third or fourth attempt, took its sweet fucking time, and for a second made me feel like I couldn't breathe and might actually need CPR, but it did somehow eventually make its way down.

Once it was all gone, I behaved like I always saw in porn and opened my empty, cum-slick mouth to show him what a good girl I'd been.

"Jake!" was all Bryce could say.

I was moaning without realizing I was moaning. Cooing, I guess. He was caressing my head, running his fingers through my hair, lovingly massaging the human head at his cock.

I gave him a simple look of love, then grabbed his cock again, gently this time, and sipped the last little bit of cum oozing out of him into my mouth and swallowed it.

"Yum," I smiled.

I licked his cummy head, wrapped my lips carefully around the whole sensitive helm, and then gradually pulled him back out as I squeegeed off the residue. He exhaled shakily, almost painfully. I swallowed. I smacked my lips unself-consciously.

"Alright," Mom clapped. "Terrific work, boys. That concludes the first exercise."

Chapter 7

Bryce helped me stand back up. I was a little woozy, not just from the exertion, not just from the drugs. I had fallen utterly and painfully in love with my brother.

We stood there face to face, cock to cock, just kind of getting ready to break eye contact before actually breaking eye contact. My raging hard erection pointed up at his rock-hard abs. His red, spit-soaked cock was slowly, happily deflating.

I admit I'd half expected us to kiss. But we didn't. I was ready to, but I guess he wasn't. I didn't take it personally. In fact, I understood. I got a little stand-offish right after I came, too.

But then instead he hugged me. Once again, my achingly hard cock got forced up against a family member's tummy. Bryce pulled me in tight. He grabbed two handfuls of my ass. He squeezed me lustily, sort of humped me into him. I liked this. He sort of made me feel like a girl? I fucking loved it. I felt hot. And good at head.

Then he gave me a hearty pat-pat on the back and we separated.

"Well Jake," Mom sighed proudly. "I feel like this session's off to a good start. How about you?"

"I just sucked a cock," I declared boldly.

"That you did, sweetie. Did you have fun fellating your brother?"

"I loved it. I'm ready to go again. I want more practice."

"Ah," Bryce held up a finger. "I'm going to need a minute,"

"Deepthroating is harder than it looks, isn't it?" Mom gave me a salacious smile.

Bryce made the strangest face at this.

"I just couldn't get it in there," I sighed.

"You did fine, sweetie. Come here." She stood and offered me a hug.

Gosh, this was nice. I half expected her to plunge a dagger into my stomach. But no, she just hugged me. I brought a hand up to her boob. I squeezed it through the blouse. She let me. Where was the torturer I'd been stuck alone with these past several months?

Bryce sat down naked next to Lily on the loveseat. Lily stared at his cock, unabashed, transfixed. He grinned at her. He played with it for her, flopping it around, making little noises with it. She giggled and played with herself under her dress. So then, feeling brave, Bryce reached for the hem of her skirt. She batted his hand away. He shrugged and went back to nurturing his dick.

"What's next, Jen?" Bryce asked. "I like family therapy."

"You like MDMA-assisted family counseling," Mom corrected. She lived to correct.

"I like that too," Bryce chuckled.

There was some rearranging on the loveseat as I reclaimed my spot beside Bryce. I would have loved a spot beside Lily, but I was happy here, too. I was happy everywhere. Holy hell, ecstasy, reader. Bryce offered me his hand again, and I took it. It was sweaty and hot and perfect.

"To answer your question," Mom continued, "I promise we'll do another exercise here shortly, but I also wanted us to talk about some of the things your brother brought up earlier. About our work together. How are we all feeling about everything he revealed?"

"You mean about you showing yourself to him?" Bryce grinned.

"Is that all you think it was?" Mom asked.

"I'm just going off what he told me."

Mom turned to Lily.

"Sweetheart, how are you handling everything?"

Lily tapped at her temple, then shrugged a shoulder, arched an eyebrow.

I had already sort of guessed.

"You already knew," Mom confirmed.

Lily nodded.

"Did you know that Lily knew something was going on?" she asked me.

I'd had no idea. In fact, fuck. My brain was still digesting this. But Mom had asked me a question, so my mouth just started going.

"Maybe this is why I never could quite figure out whether this was, like, an open secret, or an actual secret?" I turned and addressed my siblings. "Like, so that's why. One of you knew, one of you didn't. It was an open secret, and it wasn't."

"How does that make you feel, right here and now?" Mom asked me. She uncrossed her legs and simply stayed that way. She leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees. This was her very-engaged-therapist pose.

"I'm not sure?"

I looked at Bryce.

"I'm a little surprised you couldn't tell something was up, man," I told him, earnestly but nonjudgmentally.

Bryce frowned, embarrassed, and squeezed my hand hard. He kept squeezing. He kept frowning.

I looked at Lily. "And Sis, I guess you knew and didn't say anything. Um." I looked at her some more. "I don't know what else to say about that."

Lily was smiling at me, maybe too high for this kind of thing right now. I doubt any of us could cry right now, even if we needed to. But even sober, we kind of never cried. Well, I did when Mom slapped it out of me.

"But," I went on. "I guess I need you to know you could have said something to me and it would have been appreciated. Anything. Just to let me know you knew. I would have—I could have just really—"

Well, huh. This felt strange. I felt as happy as I could possibly be, happier even, but I was also looking through a window in my brain to a time and place in which I was not happy. Again, not crying, I don't think. But let's look through the window now.

This was the indoor jungle at our zoo on a day when I was maybe eight or nine. Here I was suddenly struck by how dour and prison-like the big hangarlike space of the indoor jungle had been, how poorly maintained and badly painted the imaginary flora on the concrete walls had looked, how tiny and cramped and unkind each little animal exhibit had felt. And yet, note, I was a child at the zoo, having a joyous experience. It had been a beautiful, sunny, broiling hot day.I wondered now, peering through the window at the boy peering over the railing down into the tapir exhibit, how it might have felt to be that tapir. Like, what if I, the tapir, had been lugged out of the brackish water I spent my days in, led through the bland mucky door of my chamber, out into the sterile holding area, out further still into the employee area with its lockers and laminated signs, and then set free into the funny-smelling welcome area. I wondered how it might feel to be that same tapir, wandering back into the indoor jungle as a visitor, traipsing alone along the footpath, dodging children, admiring my freedom, sniffing at signs describing things I had not been taught to understand. I wondered how it might feel to arrive at the railing overlooking my empty bog. Would I feel okay?

Did I feel okay?

Jake, Lily reached across Bryce and put her hand on my knee. I guess I was crying. I was a crybaby now.

"That's my knee," I said.

Everybody was quiet. Mom saw to that, I think. She surely wanted everyone to let me "sit with this emotion," as she'd have put it. What emotion was I sitting with, anyway? I was sobbing, but I still felt free, and clear, and beautiful. I felt like the tapir on the walkway. Lily had her hand on my knee. Bryce had my hand in his. I felt really okay.

"So, Jake," Mom raised a professional eyebrow. "What happens to us now?"

"I don't know, Jennifer," I answered plainly. "I guess I don't even care?"

"I appreciate that you're using my first name so easily today."

"Yeah," I shrugged.

"And when you say you don't care what happens to us, I wonder what you mean by that?"

"I mean," I had to think for a moment. "Um."

I looked at my siblings. They looked at me. My sister's hand was small and a little clammy but warm. My brother's hand had been dry at first, but the longer he'd held my hand the sweatier we had gotten.

"Are you bothered that Lily and Bryce found out about you and me?"

"I'm not," I realized.

"Do you mind that your brother enjoys when you perform oral sex on him?"

"I love it," I smiled.

"So then, what do you not care about?"

"I don't care that Lily didn't say anything to me even though she suspected."

"Wow," Mom raised both eyebrows now. "That's big. Why don't you care about that?"

"Because," I looked at Lily now. I tried to see if she'd let me take her hand. She did, happily. "Because Sis. I think I'd have done the same. I worry about you all the time, how you don't talk and all, and but I don't say anything either. You know?"

She looked at me with a face far too complex for me to explain here.

"I worry all the time," I went on. "Like, I don't understand why you don't talk. I mean," ugh, ecstasy was getting in my way right now, "I'm okay with it. I love you. I love the way you are. But I guess what I mean is I don't understand why you don't talk to me. To me, Jake, your brother. I don't understand why you only talk to Mom. Do you know I haven't heard your voice in ten years? I can't even remember what you sound like! I miss you."

Lily and I were both crying now.

"I miss you, too, Lil," Bryce sobbed. He was crying, too, in between us.

Mom looked on, neutral but engaged.

Lily crawled over Bryce's lap and into mine. Yes the erection was a minor issue, but she just sort of sat sidesaddle on top of it, and then wrapped her slender, clammy arms around me.

She hugged me. I put one hand on her back and hugged her back. The other hand, Bryce kind of needed right now.

Shit. When was the last time Lily had hugged me? It felt primordially good. Big brothers do not simply "get" hugs from little sisters. We must earn such honors.

I could hear a sort of charging-up sound in my brain as Lily's love surged into me. She was refilling a battery I'd forgotten I even had. YES, was how it felt. I hugged her harder still, pressing her tiny frame against me, testing the limits of her skeleton. She grunted involuntarily, but sweetly.

But now, okay, the long, horny cock throbbing away under her ass was getting a little ridiculous to pretend to ignore. Her silky, sexy purple dress, her squishy, flexy butt muscles, and the image, still burned into me, of her having touched herself earlier in plain view of everyone present, were not exactly conspiring to help it go down, either. I gave Lily a gentlemanly pat on the back to signal that I was ready to conclude the hug.

She sat up, directing even more of her weight squarely onto my cock. This was not unpleasant. She bent forward and planted a kiss on my lips, then sat back and checked my facial reaction. I checked hers too. Have you ever pointed a camera at its own screen? We sort of fell into that kind of vortex.

"Lily, can I ask you to return to your seat, please?" Mom asked gently.

Lily climbed backwards off of me, walking her hands down my bare thighs as she dismounted, and stood up and stretched like the cute fucking thing she knew she was. My cock twitched sadly in her absence. Bryce patted it sympathetically. Lily returned to her seat beside Bryce.

Bryce, I noticed, was hard again. I wondered if Lily was hard, too. Or wet or whatever. Get off my case. I was high.

Mom stood and brought us each our own water bottle. Wow! My own water bottle!

I'd sort of neglected to consider how horribly parched I was. I think Lily and Bryce had, too. For the next minute or so, the only noises in the room were the three of us gulping and chugging, and the plastic of the bottles crackling as we vacuum-sucked them empty.

Mom sipped her own water bottle.

"Can we kiss?" Bryce asked nonchalantly.

"Consensually, sure," Mom nodded.

Bryce looked at Lily. Lily shook her head no. Bryce looked at me. I shrugged, then nodded. We kissed. Our mouths were extra wet and still very freshly chilled. It was erotic as fuck.

Bryce shoved his big stupid tongue in my mouth like he owned the place. My own tongue was like, okay whatever babe, fuck me hard. We wrestled this way in the dark of each other's mouths. His tongue was rougher than Mom's, his taste buds coarser or something, and his spit was, I don't know, manlier? I'm sure my own still resonated with his cum. He clearly didn't mind.

His hand drifted up my thigh and down into my crotch. A few searching fingers poked clumsily into and then began grazing and caressing my cock. He pulled me harder into the kiss, and I pushed eagerly in. I moaned around our tongues. He sort of grunt-laughed, too, his breath billowing into my mouth, pushing into my throat. He took my hand with his free hand, trailed it across both our thighs on its way toward his own cock. The pig. I guess we were doing this?

He started jerking me off. I started jerking him off. Twin-sync.

Our tongue-wrestling became kissing, became pecking, and then panting, and finally moaning and groaning, our mouths still sort of pressed together but haphazardly. His tongues still darted out here and there, licked my face, or thrust back into my mouth for a quick taste of me (and him). Our teeth would clack occasionally from his recklessness.

Was I supposed to cum? I was having kind of a hard time getting close. Bryce was doing wonderfully enough. He was a little rough, but he'd obviously had practice. Why wasn't I getting close? And how about while Lily her incredibly cute butt planted on my cock. Shouldn't I have come at some point there? Or the instant Bryce had shot his load into my throat, after I'd been dry humping the floor that whole time?

"Now wait a minute," Mom interrupted.

"What?" Bryce and I asked in breathless unison. We each relaxed our cock-milking motion, but didn't let go of each other's cocks. Bryce's cock whimpered in my grip.

"I appreciate what I'm seeing," Mom affirmed. "But I want us to pause and just sit with this for a moment, okay?"

"Can we keep, like—" Bryce joggled my cock in his fist, "—while we 'sit with this'?"

"How about we don't," Mom replied. "I want us to sit with this feeling: the feeling of the chase, rather than the feeling that you're chasing."

I sort of swooned. Mom could be so fucking articulate. Like I always said, the skillfulness of her tongue, its sheer intellectual bandwidth, was something that really did heighten making out with her. Or getting head from her. Gosh, I really was lucky, wasn't I?

Bryce was fun to make out with too, in a rough 'n' tumble sort of way. Kissing him was like wrestling in the back yard. At any moment I half-expected him to trap me in a half-nelson. Shit, I wanted him to.

"So, how is this feeling?" Mom asked.

"Uhh, it's great?" Bryce laughed.

"I'm not complaining," I echoed.

Lily gave Mom the A-OK gesture. She was sitting with her legs folded under her, with nothing on display but her general adorability.

"I'm hearing positivity," Mom nodded. "But I'm curious if we've thought about tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" Bryce asked. When he spoke, for whatever reason, it heightened my attention to his hand on my cock. Probably because it distracted him from it.

"Tomorrow is tomorrow," Mom answered matter-of-factly. She spoke with her hands, now, for added effect. "Tomorrow we wake up sober and capable of worry. We will have to reckon with fear, anger, and shame. Tomorrow, the grand wheel of emotions resumes turning. This worry-free feeling you two are enjoying will be gone. I want to make sure we all understand this, even while I urge us to enjoy the present. Can we do both?"

"Jesus," Bryce said, still rock hard, but as close to bothered as I'd heard him in the last hour.

Wait, what time was it?

I checked Mom's fancy minimalist therapy clock. It had been only 45 minutes. I had gone from terrified, to fully revealing Mom's dark secret, to mutual masturbation with my twin brother: in 45 minutes. I made a mental note to give myself a high-five later.

"So?" Mom said quizzically. "What do we plan to do tomorrow?"

"Are you asking if, like, we plan to keep jerking each other off?" Bryce wondered. He really could sound impressively dumb. If Mom decided to continue seeing him one-on-one as a client, he'd have a hell of a time. I gave his cock a single gentle pump in my fist.

"Not quite. Rather, I'm assuring you that when you and Jake wake up tomorrow morning in your bedroom—and I would urge you two to resist the urge to sleep in the same bed tonight—you will, I promise, feel badly about how today unfolded. I want for us to expect this now, ahead of time, so that we can prepare mentally, and emotionally, for what we plan to do."

"Jennifer?" I raised my free hand. "If I may?"

"Sure, Jake."

"You raped me twice a week, every week, for the last I don't know how many months. I never had to wait for any tomorrows to feel the consequences of that. I can tell you that rape and incest, yeah, it's really fucked up. Really really fucked up. I dreamed every night, every night, that someone would find out, like Bryce or Lily, and but instead of helping, they would be disgusted by me. My whole dream I would just chase them around trying to apologize, and like, keep us from falling apart. Every night for months I had this dream."

The room was quiet again. Bryce had let go of me.

"And then I wake up and reality is somehow worse. Reality is my mom is raping me. Reality is nobody knows, and nobody can find out."

Tone is a difficult thing to convey in text, so let me explain to you reader, that despite all this heavy drama and use of italics, I delivered this monologue actually rather chipperly. Because ecstasy.

"I like where you're going with this," Mom nodded thoughtfully. "Please, go on."

"Bryce," I continued, apparently needing to continue. I looked at Bryce.

"Lily," I said. I leaned forward, acknowledging my sister.

She blushed at me. Waved hello. Um, okay. (Shit, did she have a crush on me all of a sudden?)

I cleared my throat. "Right, so. My point is. I think Mom's—I mean Jen—is talking about reality. She says tomorrow, but she means every day from now on. And I suppose, sure, maybe she'll let us try ecstasy again someday? I mean, none of us would say no to that, right?"

"More please," Bryce said politely to Mom.

Lily snapped her fingers once in agreement.

"Right. So Jen, for the record, please drug us again at your leisure."

Mom raised an eyebrow. "Get back on topic," she advised.

"Right, sorry. Thing is, guys, we can't count on her doing that again anytime soon. Or ever. You guys don't know her like I do, okay? Once she knows you love something, she's never going to let you have it again." I looked to Mom again. She was making the exact same face as before. "So we need to understand, even while we're in this—" I pointed at my naked cock "—state of mind, that from now on we are victims of something. Okay? You guys are like me now. Mom is planning to abuse us. This is abuse. About which, um, I guess I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I can't feel it right now with the drugs, but it usually sucks immensely, being abused. Living with this twisted family secret. But gosh. I'm also really, really happy to welcome you to the club. It's the shittiest club imaginable. But at least neither of you will be the only member like I was. That was... That was rough."

"We're victims?" Bryce asked. "Of what exactly? Sorry, I zoned out."

Lily shook her head and slapped him on the arm.

"Well, incest is technically illegal, for starters," I tried. "So technically, we're victims of each other."

Bryce shrugged. "Fuck that. I like incest, dude." He started pulling at my cock and watching my face squirm with distracted delight. "And yep, you do too."

"R-right," I chuckled bashfully. "But there's also the sexual abuse component. You said it yourself: Mom did wrong. She did a crime. Today, right now, we're too high to give a shit. But tomorrow, we will give more of a shit than we know what to do with. Tomorrow we'll understand that Mom really is a monster, and that our family is now fucked."

Lily shifted in her seat, unfolded her legs and stretched them out over Bryce's lap and mine. Sweet heavenly fuck, her feet were cute. I could smell them: sweetly acrid, like a fruit-forward vinegar. Before this afternoon I was not a foot guy. In this moment, I was Lily's foot guy.

"Lily," I tried.

She squirmed, letting her skirt ride up just a tiny bit. She played her toes into my thigh, squiggling them playfully. She looked at me. Yes?

"Jake, I appreciate what you're trying to say," Bryce said, groping me again. "I really do, bro. Tomorrow and forever we are going to hate ourselves for—" he suddenly leaned over and kissed, tongued, the head of my cock, then kept his head down there as he spoke, "—this. And especially if it goes further than this, gosh, who knows how, like, traumatized we'll be." He made a melodramatic moaning sound as he rubbed my cock all over his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. He got little smears of my precum in his eyebrow and on the side of his nose. "Sooo traumatized," he croaked, "ohhh."

"Right, like I said—" I struggled, trying to stay cool as I watched my twin dab my cock like a makeup brush all over his face. I have to admit, each little feature felt different, so the whole gag was distractingly interesting. His eyebrow on my cock, his nose on my cock, his ear on my cock. But I felt compelled to be stoic. Bryce giddily playing with his very first cock, mine no less, made me feel like I had to pretend to be the cool one while his guard was down. Then Mom spoke up.

"Like he said," she picked up where I left off. "I am an abuser. I abuse Jake, sexually and emotionally. He is also not incorrect about my cruelty. I freely admit, I enjoy mistreating the ones I love. I'm being nice today because, first of all, I'm feeling nice today, watching my children all get along so well. But also, because I was not lying when I said I intended to moderate this session to the best of my ability."

"Mom?" I asked.

"Jennifer," she reminded me.

"Shit, sorry. Jennifer?"

"Yes, Jake?"

"Why did you pick me?"

"Pardon me?"

"Why was I the only one you picked on all this time? And why did you choose today to—" Well, Bryce was now actively sucking my dick, and being noisy about it on purpose, "—do this?"

If Mom was going to allow this, then I was going to put my hands on Bryce's head and joined the up and down rhythm, adding playful pressure here and there to let him know I was having fun. He chuckled, then gagged mid-chuckle, then grunted to let me know he was okay. Bryce liked a good challenge. Which was great for me. I ran my fingers through his hair, like he'd done for me.

Mom sat back and cocked her jaw to one side. This was her impressed face. I had asked a good question. That's right I fucking had. This question had tormented me. Hurt me. Raped me.

"I like that question," she smiled.

"I'd love an answer if you have one." It's easy to act confident when someone is giving you oral sex.

"The truth, honey? Is that I saw you as the most receptive to therapy."

"Receptive?" I repeated, sincerely confused. And possibly about to cum. Jesus, Bryce.

"There's no point in denying that I did it for me," she stretched now, arms way up, legs way out, toes splayed. Then she recomposed herself. "I'm a monster. Does it ... help you to hear me say that?"

"I—" Did it? "I don't know?"

"Well, I am a monster, and an awful mother to boot. This much is moot. You know better than anyone."

"I do," I said, feeling something in the pit of my belly where rage typically burbled, but it was as though someone had thrown open the window, scrubbed everything clean, and was now drawing a warm bath.

"Another unfortunate, irrefutable truth is that I am sexually attracted to you, Jake. And to you, Bryce. And to you, Lily. I do not choose to be, but I am." Mom put a hand to her breastbone, splayed her fingers, and looked momentarily fascinated by something we couldn't see. "Wow, my heart is beating fast right now." She laughs. "I'm nervous, you guys!"

"Are you alright?" I asked, also laughing. The warm bath in my belly was a bubble bath. Possibly large enough for four.

"I believe I am, yes. I'm just so anxious all of a sudden. My body insists that I address this anxiety." Mom looked suddenly purposeful again. "I need to hear from all three of you, now that I've told you about my sexual attraction to you. This is something that I've kept hidden for so long: please, tell me where you stand."

"We're high on ecstasy, Mom," Bryce said, taking a breather from my cock to massage his cheek muscles. "You know you're welcome to join me over here."

"Bryce, I appreciate you. But I need you to be serious for a moment. I have just told you that I am sexually attracted to you. Tell me where you'll stand on that tomorrow," she insisted.

I noticed she had missed Bryce's misuse of "Mom." She was nervous.

"Bryce, sit up man. Listen to Mom. I'm too distracted to cum."

"Shit," he sighed, but sounded relieved, and sat up rubbing his neck. "I was enjoying myself. For the record."

"I know you were, you big sexy fuck. You were trying to upstage me."

"Why wouldn't you cum for me?"

"Boys," Mom interjected.

"Because Mom is telling me things I never knew. This is stuff I have wondered—no, needed to know about for a long time." I looked intently at my handsome brother. I put my hand on his stupid face. I wiped my precum out of his eyebrow, and off of his nose.

Twin-sync.

Bryce nodded solemnly, sedately, looking very much eager to fuck me. Gosh, I was on fire today. We turned and faced our mother, and rested our hands on our little sister's legs and ankles.

Lily, took, put her hand on Bryce's hand and kept it there. I put a hand around her foot since I couldn't non- hold her hand from where I was sitting, and she flexed her toes in sisterly regard.

"I'm a rapist," Mom admitted, more to herself than to us. "I have raped my son."

We just sat there quietly, holding each other's hands and feet.

"Do you want to know what all I've done to him?" she asked Bryce and Lily.

My siblings looked at me as if for permission. I shrugged my consent.

"Might as well get it all out there," I said.

"I've penetrated him digitally," she blurted.

"Digitally?" Bryce giggled. "With like a phone?"

"With a digit," Mom frowned, and held up her left hand's middle finger. Yep, that was the one.

"Oh," Bryce quieted.

"I've masturbated him to completion."

No response.

"I've fellated him."

Bryce slapped his forehead in realization. No wonder she'd said what she'd said earlier.

"I've exposed myself to him."

Bryce began idly fondling me again. Dude just couldn't quit.

"My breasts. My vulva. My rear end. Not typically all at once. But sometimes."

Yeah, sorry reader. You'll have to use your imagination. If I tried to tell you the complete history of every single time that Mom raped me, you'd get bored before you got horny.

"I've forced most of these parts onto him, or else coerced him into touching them."

Bryce liked this. He half-laughed, half-gasped as he began milking his cock in addition to mine. Lily shifted her legs just a bit to give him room to operate.

"You wear some sort of smell, too. Tell them about the smell."

Mom smiled mischievously. I'd never actually acknowledged that I knew about the fragrance she wore.

"Correct. I wear a musk that combines my own natural pheromones with a blend of botanicals and psychoactive reagents known to induce sexual arousal, particularly in men. I am not wearing it today. Today is for you three," she gestured to all three of us on the loveseat. "Not for me. I don't need you to be 'attracted' to me today."

"Well, I hate to break it you," Bryce chortled, making sure she noticed what he was doing to himself and me.

"Flattery noted," she smiled devilishly. I winced reflexively. That was her about-to-slap-you smile. I pitied future Bryce. She was going to destroy him.

"Anyway, that's the extent of it. We haven't had penetrative intercourse, if you were curious. I have managed to hold my monster at bay in that regard. Was there anything else you wanted to know, any of you? I am relieved to be disclosing all of this at long last."

"Wait," I said.

Mom gave me the stage once again.

"What did you mean when you said I was the most receptive? Receptive to what? To rape?"

"Ah!" Mom clapped, realizing she had forgotten to explain. "Yes! I mean no! Not to rape. Sorry. No one is 'receptive' to rape. Not real rape anyway. No."

She sat forward in her chair again, girlishly, eager to unload this next bit.

"I believed you would be receptive to therapy, Jake. To healing. The monster in me needed to hurt one of you, and about that, I could do nothing. But I knew that if I hurt you, I could repair you. And that was all my monster needed to hear. If you would like me to apologize on the monster's behalf, I could try, but I am not sure it would be sincere, or that would it be any kind of promise that it will not hurt you again. I will hurt you again, Jake. I will. I may not be my monster, per se, but it does exert an awful measure of control over me."

Bryce seemed to have tuned out, and was now lost in the task of masturbating both of us. Mom was speaking therapy-speak, but she was speaking it in the sexiest way imaginable. I was hanging on every word. Lily was, too. She was a consummate listener.

Even on drugs I could recognize that I had never seen Mom like this. Why, at any moment, she might even display an emotion.

"I chose you, Jake, sweetie. I knew I could trust you to withstand my abuses. I believed in you," she paused.

There was something in her throat. She closed her eyes and waited for it to pass.

"I love you. Even if I hit you and hurt you and—" the something came back, but this time she kept pressing on. "—make you cry. You're my baby, now and forever. Do you understand? Look," she said, holding up a quivering hand. "Look at what you've accomplished in just one session. You did this. You dragged this monster out into the light. You asked the questions that got us here." She started weeping. "You made me cry."

"You made me cum," Bryce mimicked, smirking at everyone lasciviously.

Lily punched him in the ear where she'd scratched him before.

"Fuck, ow, jeez."

"But," I still couldn't wrap my head around one thing. "Why stop? Why ... free me today? Why did you wait so long to start trying to 'heal' me?"

"Oh," Mom nodded like this was a softball question. "Because your sister came of age. All three of you were finally fair game. And, well, Jake, sweetie, you're hardly free of anything. I'm still going to expect you on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

"But Bryce is the same age as me."

"Right, but the logistics of raping both of you just didn't work, hon. And I wasn't sure Bryce had the ... cognitive resiliency I knew you did. It had to be you. And it could only be you. Once the time was right, and all three of you could, well, enter the monster's den together, then whatever resiliency Bryce lacked, you and Lily could make up for as his support."

"Wait," Bryce said, slowing distractedly from his dual masturbation effort. "I lack what now?"

Lily nodded, even shrugged, like all of this made perfect sense. Lily, who was still fully dressed, had not touched a single cock today, and was using her naked brothers' laps as furniture.

I still needed help piecing together the last couple pieces of the puzzle.

"And so, you slipped us ecstasy for...?"

"I'm certified in MDMA-assisted therapy. I'm familiar with, convinced of, its effectiveness in bringing families and couples together through dysfunction and heartache."

"Dysfunction and heartache," I repeated, checking these words for mouthfeel.

"Tomorrow this change in our relationship will be," she addressed the entire loveseat, "I warn you all again, painful. It will, I promise, hurt. That's another reason I'm not participating quite yet in the—" she gestured to Bryce. "You see, after thinking it through, I realized it will be much easier for you three to reckon with whatever you might do to each other, sexually speaking, than to have to accommodate for whatever your mother—your sole caregiver—might have done to you in addition. Again, please note that I ... tend to be a little rough."

"Your 'monster' must be champing at the bit, then," Bryce jeered. To his credit, he had not stopped masturbating either of us this entire time. I wasn't anywhere near cumming, hard though I was. He was ready to blow. "You want to see me cum again, Mom?"

"Of course I do, sweetie. But I'd rather you share with your siblings. You and I will have our own encounter some other time."

"You want me to cum on my siblings?"

"Well," Mom looked suddenly fretful, "not on the sofa, no. Please. I would prefer you cum in one of their mouths, or into a tissue, or—ooh!—what if we all went outside?"

Outside? To do naked stuff? The introvert in me was like absolutely not. But the ecstasy in me was like I want to feel grass under my naked body while my brother cums all over me and my sister. I gave a thumbs up. I was in.

Lily was too. She clambered off of our laps. She 'accidentally' stomped on Bryce's cock in the process, knocking the wind out of him, and eliciting a sharp laugh from Mom's monster.

I stood up laboriously and stretched, yawned, felt the tingles in me sparkle and hiss. It was good to be naked. I rubbed my eyes like a sleepy baby, and when I opened them again, everything had changed. I blinked.

The resolution of the room had downgraded.

My sister was now a sexy, animated piece of pixel art. She turned and smiled at me, did an excited little hop, and ten thousand tan and lilac squares shifted hue to simulate flexion.

Curiously, Bryce was even lower resolution. He looked like censored porn. He made some sort of face at me, I can't be sure, and I waved back dumbly. My own hand left motion trails in the pixels of Bryce's body.

"Come, children," Mom said, and led us to the door of her office. Mom, the mistress of this room, remained somehow in perfect high-definition, untouchable, clashing gorgeously with her lo-fi environs. I heard her slide a key into the knob, turn it and unlock it.

Chapter 8

As we left the sunlit, sun-warmed office for the cooler, shadier living room, I noted a wild downshift in color saturation. Out here, the patterned rug, the striped sofas, the floor lamp's hourglass light against the far wall, all of it was practically black and white.

We trailed through the living room and into the foyer after Mom: Lily in her lilac sun dress—the only colorful thing still registering on my retina—Bryce in blocky buff, and me, really very strongly feeling the effects of our mother's lemonade. We passed through the kitchen where the pitcher still sat empty on the counter, a puddle of spent condensation all around it. Everything in our house was serenely quiet but for the sounds of our bare feet.

I burped. Up came the flavor of my brother's sweet, lemony cum. I laughed. It was still yummy.

I couldn't imagine not wanting to suck Bryce's cock again, even tomorrow, even every day after that. I imagined us older, as fathers, as family men, sneaking off while our children played so I could swallow another bucket of his cum. The image of us being so naughty amid such happy times melted my heart.

Mom held the patio door open for us and we each stepped out into the sunny late day heat. The heady chlorine smell of the pool hit first. Then the soft noise of a lawnmower a couple properties away. The intensity of the heat of the terracotta stones paving the patio under our feet came last. Just hot enough to hurt, but then feel amazing.

I wondered about the kids in my reverie. I wondered absently if I had a monster in me, too, like Mom. Where was their mother? Who was their mother? Was I their mother? And Bryce their father?

Lily stepped quickly toward the far edge of the patio toward the lawn, her delicate feet antsier on the pavement than Bryce's or mine. She hopped eagerly into the grass, nestled her sizzling pink toes into the cool plant matter, and sighed audibly. She squatted down, pressed her hands into the earth, then rolled over entirely onto her side, basking.

Mom stood at the back door and called out to the three of us.

"You guys play out here for a minute. I'm going to go get some things for our next exercise."

Bryce and I looked at each other. The sunlight had burned off my pixel-vision. He was full HD Bryce again.

"You ... want to suck my cock?" he asked roguishly.

"Very much so, yes," I replied, licking my lip and thrilling at the sight of his cock in the sunshine, so similar to mine, but fuckable. "Can we go in the grass?"

We tumbled together into the grass beside our sister. I laid on my back as Bryce crawled up my legs and sat on my thighs, straddling me. He grabbed his cock and mine in the same big hand and squeezed them together. They were too hard for this to do much, but I did absolutely relish the feeling of his cock's full length and heat against mine.

"Shit," he laughed. "You've got a full inch on me."

"You make up for it," I assured him. "That beast could choke a horse."

"Is it weird that I want to suck, like, both of these?" he said, awing at the meal in his hand.

"Not at all," I giggled. "You want to know a secret?"

Bryce looked down at me, still holding our cocks, puzzled and horny. Lily sat up on an elbow beside us and tuned in.

"I can suck my own dick."

"WHAT." Bryce looked stricken.

Lily's mouth fell open. She reached over, shoved at my shoulder, and made the following face:

Prove it.

Chapter 9

Bryce stood up off of me.

"How on earth did you figure out you can suck your own cock?" he asked, deeply envious.

"I can only do it during cross country season, funny enough," I chuckled bashfully. "When we get all fit and limber."

"Oh god," it dawned on Bryce, "that's why you have me help you stretch your back!"

"That's why," I grinned.

"So how do you do it? Do you just, like—" and he bent his own head down, pointed his cock up at his mouth, and failed miserably to close the gap.

Lily snorted beside me. She had sat up and was sitting cross legged, knees practically touching my side, ready for a show. She had chastely ensured that her skirt was covering her lap.

"Um, well," I took a deep breath. "I usually do it in bed. That way I can get my butt up, and keep it there. Like this kind of." I rolled back, throwing my legs up so my feet were dangling above my shoulders. My cock wobbled rigidly in the air above my face. But it was hopeless trying to stabilize this pose without support. I came unfurled with a wheezy exhalation.

"You want my help?" Bryce offered.

"Sure," I puffed, steeling myself for another go. "Hold my hamstrings."

I rolled back again, and this time Bryce caught me by the hamstrings and held me in place. I'm pretty sure he'd trapped me this exact same hold back in junior high when he was learning to wrestle. God, that had been a painful phase. In fact, this pose still kind of hurt. But you know. No pain, no gain.

"I can see your asshole," Bryce informed me.

"And?" I grunted.

"It's hairy," he confirmed.

"Okay," I said, not sure what else to say. "Can you help press down?"

Bryce obliged. I expelled as much wind from my abdomen as I could, helping him fold me in half. With one hand, I reached up and angled my cock toward my mouth. I licked my lips, and took tiny little breaths that only oxygenated the tippy tops of my collapsed lungs. I could smell something sort of funky, then realized it was probably Bryce's dried spit on my cock.

I liked that.

I pressed my cock to my lips. My lips could discern things about the texture of the skin of the head of my cock that no other part of my body could. I licked this skin appreciatively. I pooched my lips out a bit and half-sucked, half-smooched myself. A string of precum connected and hung there after I'd stopped.

"Holy fuck," Bryce murmured. "You can reach it."

"Press," I wheezed.