Elephant in the Closet (i)

Incest Version

by Pan

Arriving home from an unsurprisingly unsuccessful date I immediately went and found my brother to bitch to him about it. He was in my room, trying to fix the strange colors that my monitor was suddenly showing. It started when he put some anti-virus software on my computer, so I guess he felt responsible.

“How’d it go?” he asked, as I slumped onto my bed, my unhappiness evident.

“A disaster. Again.”

Simon was well aware of my recent dating problems. I kept him updated, and he was always happy to lend an ear.

“There,” he said. “That should fix it.”

Standing up, he went into the lounge room, and I followed him, scuffing my feet. I collapsed onto a couch, and he fetched me a strange-tasting drink (that inexplicably took forever to prepare) and sat opposite me.

“Now,” he said, staring me intensely in the eyes. “Tell me all about it.”

For the next fifteen minutes, I regaled him with the tale of the latest in a string of truly terrible dates. He nodded, sympathized, and laughed at all the right places as I drank down the whiskey and soda he’d fetched me, and tried to ignore the steady, rhythmic ticking of the clock (was it always that loud?) in the room with us.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I eventually sighed, and fixed my brother with a strong glare as he unsuccessfully tried to hold back a smile. “What? What is it?”

“Oh, come on…” he scoffed. “Are you kidding me, Karen?”

“What?” I asked defensively. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s the elephant in the room, Kaz. Or the closet, I suppose.”

“Are you saying…”

“Yes, Karen,” he said, staring intensely into my eyes, a slightly unusual tone entering his voice. “I’m saying you’re a lesbian.”

We sat there in silence for a few seconds, maintaining eye contact as I finished my drink and tried to figure out how to respond.

“Why do you say that?” I eventually asked, and a slight smile came across his face.

“Well…” he said, hesitating slightly.

“What? What is it?”

“I mean, to begin with, you must admit—you’ve got an awful track record with men.”

I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t. I’d never dated a guy for more than a week or two—it was as if something about me actively repulsed them. I know I’m attractive, mind you—I’ve got a great body, and I’ve never been shy about showing it off. I figure if you’ve got boobs and an ass like mine, why not show them off?

And since I’d started watching the exercise tapes my brother had lent me, I’d gotten into way better shape. I’ve always been curvy, but to my surprise, when I started losing the pounds, my breasts somehow got larger. I guess I’m just lucky.

“What else?”

“Well, there’s that friend of yours—Leslie. You and her are always hanging around.”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Sometimes people have friends. You should try it.”

Simon’s not a super-nerd or anything like that, but he doesn’t really go out much. He spends most of his time programming in his room or working on little projects around the house. Just a month or two ago, he insisted that we switch the whole house to solar power and replace all our light globes with fluorescent ones. They’re better for the environment or something like that, but they have this weird flicker. It was annoying at first, but I guess we all got used to it pretty quickly.

“I know she’s your friend, Karen, but…is that really all she is?”

“Yes!” I replied immediately, my cheeks burning up. I didn’t like where these questions were going.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine. What about your haircut?”

“Oh, please!” I said, surprised by how much I was letting his words work me up. “Lots of straight chicks have short hair! What next, you’re going to say that I must be a dyke because my tongue is pierced?”

“Well…” he replied, and I stood up angrily.

“This is ridiculous! What would I have to do to prove to you that I’m straight?”

“Look at my cock,” he replied instantly, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask. “Stare at my cock without being grossed out, and I might start to believe you.”

A part of me wanted to storm out, but I knew that he’d take that as a sign that he was right and never let this drop. So after a few seconds of inner turmoil, I rolled my eyes and agreed to his terms.

With a smile, he stood up, pulled out his dick, and watched my face carefully.

And, I’m sad to say, I flinched. I don’t know why—his cock was actually quite beautiful.

“Ah ha!” he cried. “I told you!”

“No!” I said, hating how defensive I sounded. “Come on, that’s not fair—you’re my brother! Of course I’m going to be a bit weirded out.”

“No, no,” he said, his cock slowly hardening before my eyes. “I’m right, and you know it. That’s why you’re having so much trouble with the guys…you, my dear sis, are all about the ladies.”

I didn’t really want to do what I did next, but I just had to prove to him that I was gay. So without speaking, I stepped forward, wrapped my arms around him, and kissed my brother as passionately as I possibly could. He froze in shock, but soon his hands started roaming my body, which, I had to admit, felt nice, and he actually seemed disappointed when I pulled back.

“Would a lesbian do that?” I asked, and felt my fury begin to rise as he simply shrugged in response. “Oh, come on! Are you serious?”

“Making out doesn’t count,” he said coolly. “Everyone knows that. Go to a gay nightclub sometime—lesbians and gay dudes make out all the time.”

“Fine,” I said. “How about this?”

A strange smile came across my brother’s face as I knelt down in front of him, leaning forward and taking his cock in my mouth. I think he said something, but I shut my eyes and tried to focus entirely on giving my first-ever blow job, praying that I was doing it right.

For the next few minutes, my mouth bobbed up and down on his erection as I tried to avoid thinking about what I was doing. When I felt I’d made my point, I pulled away from his wet cock and smiled up at him triumphantly.

“Well?” I said, and again he just shrugged.

“Tasting a cock doesn’t make you straight, sis. If you were a lesbian trying to prove a point, of course you could lick my head for a few seconds—it doesn’t count unless you make me cum. Seriously, just leave it—so you’re a lesbian. So what?”

I wanted to speak, but I knew that I’d just go on a diatribe that would do nothing but confirm my homosexual status in Simon’s mind, so I went back to sucking him off, attacking his cock with passion. I have no idea how long it normally takes, but after close to twenty minutes, my mouth did its work and I felt Simon beginning to blow his loud.

Standing up, I crossed to the trash can in the corner of the room and spat it out before turning back to my brother.

“Made you cum,” I said with a grin. “I told you I was straight.”

It took him a few moments to get his thoughts together, but when he did, he gestured at the receptacle that was now holding his seed.

“You spat it out,” he said in response. “And I don’t even think you got off from that. I’m sorry, sis—maybe you’re just in denial—but you’ve got to admit, all the evidence points toward you being a total lezzo.”

I was so angry that I couldn’t even speak, and by the time I’d calmed down enough to retort, Simon had gotten up and left the room. I considered knocking on his door and insisting on blowing him once more, but I’d had enough humiliation for one night. Instead, I retired to my own bedroom, listening to the mix tape my brother had made me in an attempt to calm down before going to sleep.

---

The next morning, I woke up to find music in my ears—apparently, I’d fallen asleep with my headphones still in. To my surprise, I was still incredibly angry, so much so that even though he was the target of my anger, I was considering crossing the hall and insisting that Simon hypnotize me. A few weeks ago, he’d done some kind of online course, and I’d found sessions with him to be incredibly relaxing.

Instead, I tried to work out how I could convince him that I was straight. Remembering it was a Saturday, I glanced at the clock and saw that it was still early—Simon’s traditionally a late riser, especially on the weekends, and that gave me an idea.

A few minutes later, I had donned my sexiest set of lingerie, crossed the hall, and crawled onto my brother’s bed.

He awoke with a start, staring at me in shock.

“Karen?” he said groggily, and I removed his cock from my mouth to shush him.

“It’s okay, bro…” I replied. “Just relax and enjoy.”

For the next fifteen minutes, I slowly and languidly blew my brother. To ensure that my heterosexuality was as clear as possible, I played with myself as I did, one hand slipping between my legs to play with my clit, the other toying with Simon’s swollen balls.

Before long, he was again cumming inside my mouth. I’d carefully timed my orgasm to coincide with his, and after my eyes had finished fluttering with pleasure, I opened my mouth to show him the gift he’d given me, before loudly swallowing it.

My brother just stared at me, gobsmacked, and confident that I’d made my point, I blew him a kiss as I sauntered out of the room, confident that he was staring at my sashaying ass as I did.

Simon avoided me for the rest of the day, possibly embarrassed by how well I’d proven him wrong, but around lunchtime, I heard a knock on my door, and leaped up to greet him (and accept the inevitable apology that he owed me).

“Hey Simon,” I said, tilting my head to the side and waiting expectantly.

“Hey,” he said, seeming distracted. “I need your bike helmet back.”

One of Simon’s little projects was a bike helmet that was meant to be twice as safe as a normal helmet. I don’t know exactly how it worked, but it was covered in wires and made a weird humming noise for the couple of hours I wore it each day as I rode to and from work.

“Is that all?” I said, my disappointment evident on my face.

“Oh, that little stunt this morning?” he said dismissively. “Come on, Karen. Be honest—as soon as you got back into your room, you changed out of those panties and back into some nice, huge, oh-my-god-what-a-lesbian granny panties.”

“No,” I lied, a huge blush appearing on my face. What can I say? I’m a girl who likes her comfortable underwear.

“Go on then,” he said with one eyebrow raised. “Show me.”

“No!” I said, and as a huge smile spread across his face, my heart sank.

“You see?” he said. “If you were really straight, you’d be leaping at the chance to show a guy your underpants.

He took the helmet and left me shaking with a huge range of emotions.

I was going to prove to him that I was straight if it was the last thing I ever did.

---

That night, as Simon was giving me my weekly massage (another of his many talents—I swear, he has magic hands), I rolled over and gave him a saucy smile.

“Mmm?” he said, and I really couldn’t tell if he was feigning cluelessness or if he genuinely didn’t know what I was getting at.

“Rub me there,” I purred. “I want you to get me off…"

“Karen,” he sighed, “if this is about the lesbian thing…"

“No,” I replied as earnestly as I could. “I want you to get me off. No… I need you to get me off.”

“Fine,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “but this doesn’t prove anything.”

As he touched me between my legs, I arched my back, moaned, and did everything that I could to convince him that I was the hottest-blooded woman imaginable, delighted by his touch. Honestly, it wasn’t like I was pretending—I’d never had a man touch me there, and he really seemed to know what he was doing. I came once, twice, and managed to persuade him to bring me to a third shuddering orgasm before he withdrew his fingers, soaked with my juices, and turned away.

I lay in the living room, panting with pleasure, my mind racing. What else could I do to convince Simon?

The next morning, I woke him up with another blow-job. But this time, I insisted that he return the favor, thrashing in pleasure as his tongue explored my folds.

“Doesn’t count,” he said after he was done. “After all, that’s what lesbians do.”

Unlike the previous day, however, I didn’t change out of my sexy underwear. I spent the rest of the day with my panties soaked, staring at his body whenever and wherever I could. I didn’t get dressed until my afternoon acupuncture session—Simon has a friend who gives me a special discount. He’s great, but the needles have this weird smell, and it always leaves my body tingling and my mind a bit fuzzy.

As soon as I got home, I stripped off again, and when I saw the tent in Simon’s underthings, insisted on stripping them off and blowing him once more.

Simon cooked dinner that night, and maybe I was just hungry from my efforts, but it seemed to taste better than any meal I’d ever had. I ate more of the addictive food than I can ever remember eating in one sitting, and when I was done, I sat down to watch a movie Simon had picked out for us, feeling pleasantly full.

He came and joined me, and as the film played, I leaned over, unzipped his pants, and spent the whole movie casually playing with his dick.

When the film was done (weirdly, I didn’t take in a single thing that happened—I guess I was just distracted!) Simon got up, turned the lights on, and sat in front of me.

“Karen,” he said earnestly, “we need to talk. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. If you say you’re straight, I believe you—all of this is just too much.”

“What are you talking about?” I pouted. “I’m just acting how I want to act…"

“… like a straight girl,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, I get it. But seriously, Kaz—stop.”

If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s reading subtext, and Simon’s was clear. He was saying that no matter what I did, I’d never be able to prove to him that I was straight. That I might as well give up now, save myself the effort.

My brother had seriously underestimated how determined I was.

I didn’t say a word, just reached behind me, unzipped my bra, and smiled as his eyes fell and he stared at my perky tits. I took his hands and pulled them to my nipples, my mouth falling open with pleasure as he began to roll them between his fingers.

Leaning forward, I unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled his rapidly-hardening cock out. With a cheeky smile, I winked at him and took him into my mouth.

“Do you have a condom?” I whispered after several minutes of fellatio and again felt the sting of his smirk.

“What??”

“You don’t?” he asked, and I immediately saw what he was getting at. Before I could respond, however, he’d pulled a condom out of his pocket and watched as I inexpertly rolled it over his cock, before lowering my own panties and sitting on top of him.

Though my hymen had been broken a long time ago, his cock was the first that had ever entered me, and I winced a little as he entered me. Fortunately, I was more than wet enough, and as his length slid inside me, I was unable to stop myself from moaning with pleasure.

It just felt so good. No wonder this is so popular, I told myself with a laugh before turning my brain off and focusing on what I was doing.

As I bounced up and down a cock for the first time, it wasn’t hard to bring myself to orgasm over and over again. I’ve never had any difficulty cumming, and it was a relief to discover that it was still the case when there was a man inside of me.

The indicators that Simon was getting close to cumming were becoming increasingly familiar to me, and I hefted one of my breasts to his mouth just before he did, surprised to find myself making a small squeaking sound that I’d never made before as my brother sucked on my nipple.

One final, huge orgasm rippled through my entire body, causing my toes to curl and my scalp to tingle. As I came down from my climax, Simon grunted, and I knew that he was filling the condom with his spunk.

In what I secretly thought was quite an inspired move, I clambered off him, carefully pulled the condom off, and emptied it into my mouth, smacking my lips as I tasted his delicious goo.

Simon didn’t say anything—no, ‘Oh wow, you’re totally straight after all,’ no, ’Sorry for doubting you’—nothing, just a small smile, a nod of thanks, and a long, thoughtful look as he left the room.

I lay naked in the living room for close to twenty minutes before shrugging and following Simon to his room. If he was up to it, we’d fuck again, and if he wasn’t, then I was sure he’d enjoy the warmth of my naked body as we slept.

Besides, it would save me a trip across the hall in the morning.

---

The next day was Monday, and so after giving Simon a morning blow-job and a quick fuck in the shower, I rode to work, my head buzzing the whole way. Was riding a bike dykey? Did other people think I was a lesbian as well? My co-workers? Our parents? My friends?

I spent the whole day looking at everyone, trying to guess what they thought of me. I watched the women walk, talk, and mentally took notes so I could ape them as closely as possible. I even considered slipping out during my lunch break to buy a porno tape. I could watch it in the conference room, take a few notes, and see what I could learn… before lunch hit, fortunately, I realized how much trouble that would get me in if I got caught.

When I got home, the house was empty, and I set about making some changes. My room was the first victim of my newfound resolve—I took down my poster of k.d. lang, threw out all my sensible shoes, and even considered taking out my piercings.

Short of getting my tattoo lasered off, I didn’t know what else I could do.

One trip to my nearest department store later, and my room’s transformation was complete. Gone was anything even slightly masculine, and in its place was nothing but pink, pink, pink. Pink and girly—that was the new me.

I’d kept the humidifier Simon had bought me—it sat next to my bed and, every few minutes, emitted an extremely sweet-smelling odor. At first, I’d found it annoying, but I had quickly gotten so used to the strange smell that I’d actually missed it last night, sleeping in my roommate’s bed.

My wardrobe had also been almost entirely replaced—gone were my khaki shorts and flip-flops, and in their place were miniskirts, tube tops, and high heels.

I even wore make-up for the first time in a long time.

When Simon got home, I’d considered greeting him in my underwear again—or even just completely nude—but instead decided to show off my new acquisitions and wear a pair of five-inch heels, a denim skirt so short that it flashed my thong underwear every time I bent over, and a crop-top that bared the bottom of my breasts.

Obviously, I was bra-less.

As soon as he opened the door, I was in his arms—I think he reacted on instinct: men, I suspect, tend to do that when a soft, scantily-clad woman greets them with a kiss. He picked me up, returned my kiss with gusto, and took me straight into his bedroom.

“Mmm,” I moaned as he lay me down and began undressing me, covering my skin with kisses as he did.

“Condom?” I added, as he took his pants off, and brought my hand to his erection, where it enthusiastically wrapped around his hardness.

“Of course,” he said, and the smirk was back.

I sat up, brushing his hand off my thigh (nice though his touch was).

“What?” I said, annoyed. “What is that meant to mean?”

“It’s just… look, like I said, it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to prove yourself to me—no matter what, you’ll always be my sister. Who cares if you’re a lesbian?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The condom! Come on… who do you think you’re feeling? You don’t want my penis to touch your privates. And like I said, that’s fine. So you’re not attracted to men? I say do whatever makes you happy.”

I glanced down at the small piece of latex he’d pulled out of his pocket and hesitated for a moment.

“Seriously,” he repeated in that patronizing tone that drove me up the wall. “It’s fine.”

I took the condom out of his hand and threw it against the wall.

“I want to feel you inside of me,” I hissed. “I want to feel your flesh against mine. Nothing would make me happier. Nothing would turn me on more.”

I could tell that he wasn’t convinced, but as he rolled me over and lined his unprotected cock up with my entrance, I kept going.

“Do it,” I said fiercely. “Fuck me. Fuck me, bareback. Do it, Simon, please—I need to feel your jizz inside of me. I want to feel you cumming in my exposed pussy. I’m not on the pill; did you know that?”

He clearly didn’t and hesitated, but I reached up and pulled his body onto mine, shuddered with pleasure as I felt his cock split my pussy in two.

“Oh yes,” I said, my husky voice now whispering directly into his ear. “Do it. Cum inside me, Simon. Knock me up. Give me your baby…"

“Are you sure you and your girlfriend don’t want to adopt?” he replied jokingly, and it took every ounce of self-control in my body not to slap him.

Wrapping my legs around him, I pulled him deeper and deeper into my bare cunt each time he thrust forward. As part of my makeover that day, I’d shaved for the first time—my legs, my pits, my pussy—everything. I’d wanted to be hairless and smooth for Simon, but I’d forgotten to even show him before we began to fuck.

For a moment, I glanced at the strange device beside Simon’s bed, pointing straight at us. Was that new? I hadn’t noticed it before—it was covered in tiny lights, and they seemed to be glowing in time with Simon’s thrusts. Before I could focus too much on it, though, the pleasure began to overtake my body, and my eyes fluttered closed.

I swear I saw lights as I came, blinking and throbbing. I climaxed again and again, my hips pushing forward to meet Simon, loving the feeling of his chest as it came in contact with my nipples with each thrust. My orgasms grew and grew, getting longer and more intense each time I came, but when I knew Simon was getting close, I opened my eyes—I wanted to watch him cum; I wanted to see his face when he finally believed that I was straight, that I wasn’t a lesbian.

As Simon came, I matched it with an orgasm of my own—the most intense that I’d had with him so far. Almost immediately, he pulled out of me and presented me with his still-hard (but rapidly softening) cock.

He didn’t need to tell me what to do—I took it in my mouth, savoring every drop of our shared juices that I could taste. This wasn’t the first time that I’d tasted my own juices, not by a long shot, but there was something deeply erotic about his cum mixing with mine.

I looked at him expectantly, and he began to laugh.

“Okay,” he said finally after his chuckles had died down. “You win: I believe you. You’re not a lesbian. Holy fuck, that was amazing.”

“Yeah,” I said with a grin. “Again?”

We fucked twice more that night—I had some of the most powerful orgasms that I’d ever experienced, and I could tell that Simon’s were just as intense. Afterward, we lay there, just holding each other’s naked bodies, and I listened to Simon’s breathing as he drifted off to sleep.

When I was confident that he was out for the night, I slipped out of bed, went into the hallway, and called Leslie.

“Don’t worry,” I whispered as she answered with a sleepy “Hello?”

“Our secret is still safe…"