Baphomet Sister 4

I lingered by the window for a while after big brother left, following his progress with my eyes.

But he soon vanished from sight among the hustle and bustle of the town.

In spite of that, I stared longingly out the window for a little while longer.

With a sigh, I slowly lowered the arm that had been pressed against the window glass.

Really I would have liked to go with big brother, but I couldn't abandon the shop on a whim.

Smothering my feelings of loneliness at our parting, I sunk weakly into a chair.

I was on my own again, staring vacantly about the shop.

The very air seemed to grow stagnant and heavy.

When I looked at the wall clock, I saw that, while the hands had advanced, there was still plenty of time left until I could close up shop.

I didn't know whether or not there would be any customers, but for the time being I had no choice but to mind the shop until evening, the usual closing time.

Realizing that I would have to pass more tedious hours alone, I let out another sigh.

I didn't feel all that motivated, but I couldn't stay staring into space like this forever.

Stepping away from the window, I approached the counter.

The empty teapot and two cups lay where we had left them.

I cleared them away, and then stared at the chair in which big brother had been sitting until moments before.

"Big brother," I murmured, and stretched out a hand to gently brush the chair.

It seemed to me that the faint body heat that lingered on its smooth surface transferred itself to my fingertips.

Softly wiping my hands, I moved away from the counter.

Still in that state I crossed the shop and stood before the mirror that hung in one corner.

The mirror, which big brother had received from an acquaintance a long time ago, was fairly large, and when I stood a little way back from it, it could show almost my whole body.

A large mirror in an item shop could serve no real purpose, unlike in, say, a clothing shop, but I could use it to check that there was nothing wrong with my outfit before work, so I found it useful.

I stood squarely in front of the mirror, and my figure was reflected in its cloudless surface.

A petite girl stood in the mirror.

Her familiar childlike face and small body were my own.

Her long hair was gathered into pigtails, one bunch on each side.

I don't mean to boast, but I was fairly pleased with my looks.

Big, blue eyes and a small mouth.

I worried that my nose was a bit flat, but taken as a whole I thought it achieved a certain balance.

My long hair I groomed carefully every day without fail, and thanks to that it flowed silkily through my fingers when I ran a hand through it.

On the whole, while I might not be able to call myself a beauty due to the strong childlike impression I gave off, I thought that I could say I was plenty cute, although I might be biased in my own favor.

"But," a dissatisfied grumble escaped my lips.

The face in the mirror reflected my thoughts, knitting its brows in a downcast frown.

I understood the cause of that dissatisfaction only too well.

My body was extremely slow to mature compared to other girls my age.

No, it would be more accurate to say that past a certain age I hadn't matured at all.

I was poor in curves and small in stature.

My body looked as if it could be lifted and carried easily by most adults and not at all like that of a girl who would turning seventeen this year.

Subtract seven from that age and I could still probably pass.

"Why do I have to look like this?" I groaned, glaring at the childlike girl in the mirror.

I'd tried all sorts of things, drinking milk every day and doing exercises to improve my figure.

But unfortunately I had nothing to show for it.

"It's not like I don't get enough to eat."

We weren't exactly rich, but we weren't badly off enough to be called poor, either.

At the very least we ate normally, so I'm sure I was getting enough nutrition.

I mean, it was enough to make big brother taller than average.

I couldn't understand why only I didn't grow.

I hung my head, shifting my gaze downward, and my meager breasts came into view.

My chest was too flat for my age.

The chests of other girls my age had swelled enough to be obvious even through clothing, but mine was practically perpendicular.

I might as well call it a sheer cliff.

I tried to gently cup my breasts in my hands.

There was nothing for me to grab onto.

As a girl, it was extremely saddening.

I felt myself on the verge of tears, but I managed to hold them back.

I ran my hands over my breasts, slid them softly over my skin, and was eventually able to feel enough of a bump to assuage my fears.

I looked in the mirror every day, and in the past several years my appearance hardly seemed to have changed at all.

Actually, I thought I might have begun to swell recently.

I thought so, but my hands felt nothing, the same as always.

When I removed my hands from my breasts, unable to completely deceive even myself, I let out yet another sigh.

I took a step back from the mirror and tried taking another look at my full body.

I was currently wearing a jersey blouse, a gently flared skirt, and a white apron with a frill.

I couldn't call it a uniform, as I chose my work clothes to suit my needs each day, but I generally wore something like this when I was minding the shop.