Chapters (so far):
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen


A lot of girls go off to live on-campus at college, and come home for their first holidays empowered, feminist and radical.

Michael’s older sister Brea came home more radical – but not at all feminist.

“Ugh, I hate those feminist dykes,” she said.  “I am so glad to be home and away from them.”  They were her first words through the door after the taxi dropped her off.  She dumped her bags in the hallway, and then stopped to take in the sight of her brother.

“Hi, Michael,” she said – and bit her lip in a mischievous, speculative way that Michael had never seen in his sister before.

It wasn’t the only thing he had never seen in his sister.  She had been away all year.  When she left, she had dressed in a conservative, sexless style that made her always look like she was on her way to a job interview.  She had had raven-black hair that she wore in a bun, she avoided make-up, and she wore flat, sensible shoes.

This version of Brea couldn’t have been more different.  She had dyed her hair a dirty blonde, and let it grow out to fall across her shoulders in a sexy cascade.  She wore a thin, leather dog collar around her neck.  She was perched atop six-inch heels – stripper heels, Michael thought, which was a weird thing to be thinking about anything his *sister* might wear – and she was in a pleated skirt so short that she surely couldn’t bend over without being hauled up on public indecency charges.

She was wearing a tight, semi-transparent white shirt with the word “COCKSLEEVE” printed on it in big red letters – it made him blush a little just to read it – and a pink lacy bra was clearly visible through its fabric.

And within that bra – that was the biggest surprise of all.  His sister had gotten a boob job.  The modest B-cup breasts she had grown up with had been ballooned up into bulging round D-cup melons. 

If Michael had seen this girl on the street, he might not have recognised her as his sister.  He might have thought she was a prostitute.

“Brea…” Michael began.  “You look… different.”

“I know, right?” enthused Brea.  “Do you think I look more like a rapetoy, or a cum-toilet?”

Michael gaped. 

Brea grinned, and then put on a sexy pout.  “It’s okay, Michael.  You can say those words.  I brought you home a present from college, and you can have it if you pick one of them.”

“Brea…” he breathed.  He was suddenly aware that he had an erection.  A hard-on, just from looking at his own sister.  He felt deeply guilty.

“You turned 18 while I was away, right?” said Brea.  “It’s time you learned how to treat a girl.  Come on, Michael.  Do I look like a rapetoy, or a cum-toilet?”

He didn’t know what to say.  “A rapetoy, I guess…” he said finally.

“Thank you!” said Brea.  She bounced with happiness, in a way that made her skirt twitch distractingly, and her new fake boobs jiggle even more interestingly.  Then she stepped towards Michael and, before he could react, she kissed him on the lips.

With tongue.

He felt his cock get even harder – painfully hard – as his sister’s tits pressed against his chest, and her tongue writhed against his own.  He had never even kissed a girl before, and now he was kissing his sister? 

After a few erotic seconds, she broke off the kiss and stepped back.  “Is mum home?” she asked.  Then a mischievous, sexy smile appeared on her face.  “Is *dad* home?”

Michael had no idea what his parents would say when they saw his sister’s new “rapetoy” look.  Would they yell?  Would they punish her?  Might they go in the other direction, and approve?  His father had always said that Brea was pretty and she should show it off…

But he wouldn’t find out for a while.  “No,” he said.  “They’re actually out of town overnight.  Dad had a business trip and mum decided to accompany him for a holiday.  We weren’t expecting you back until tomorrow night.”

Brea shrugged.  “I gave a guy at the airport ticket counter a blowjob, and he gave me an early flight and an upgrade to business class, so here I am.”

Michael tried not to think about his sister’s pink-lipstick lips wrapped around a man’s cock, and failed.

“Anyway,” said Brea brightly.  “If the parents are away, that means we can have some brother-sister bonding time.”  She grinned.  “There are *so* many things I have to teach you, Michael.”

They wandered into the lounge room.  Michael sat on the couch – and Brea sat on his lap.  He felt her ass grind against his still-hard cock, and she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him again.

“You can’t do that, Brea,” he said, when the kiss was over.  “I’m your brother.”

“So?” asked Brea.  “It’s not like you’re getting me pregnant or something.  And don’t you like it?”  She wiggled her ass.  “It sure *feels* like you like it…”

“What *happened* to you at college, Brea?” he asked, in wonder.

“I learned my place in life,” said Brea.  “It’s been an amazing eye-opener.  The college got pressured to present a balanced perspective on gender issues, so alongside the Intro to Feminism course, they opened up an Intro to Biological Hierarchy course.  Professor Sterretz teaches it – he’s *so* gorgeous – and he explains how women are biologically destined to be slaves, fuckdolls and pain-toys for men.  We’re just a set of holes for men to stick things into.”

She giggled.  “And once I started thinking about it, it made so much sense, and I felt so *happy*.  All the times I’d been sad in my life, it was because I was trying to be something I just wasn’t designed to be.  The first time Professor Sterretz raped me, it just tripped something in my brain – I realised that I was going to be fucked, that I had literally no choice about it, and that the professor didn’t give a damn whether I enjoyed it or not, and suddenly all the pressure and stress just went away.  I didn’t need to worry, because my decisions weren’t mine to make.  I just needed to be enjoyable for Professor Sterretz to rape – and he says I was *really* enjoyable.”  She sighed happily, remembering.

“You were raped?” said Michael with alarm.

“Oh, don’t get all outraged about it,” said Brea.  “It’s what I’m *for*.  I *loved* it.  I came twice – not that it was important whether I orgasmed.  I don’t ever want to consent to sex again.”  She wiggled her ass against his erect cock again.

“This isn’t right, Brea,” he said.  “Women are people – they have rights, and…”

“Oh, Michael, *shut up*,” sighed Brea, and kissed him again, long and deep.  Michael felt himself moaning with desire, and Brea answered it with her own slutty moan.

“Things are going to be different now, Michael,” said Brea.  “You can do anything you like with me now, and you never have to ask, okay?  At least until I go back to college – and I’m not sure about that.  I’d like to take more of Profesor Sterretz’s courses to learn how to be a better rapedoll, but I don’t know that I need to graduate.  I spent most of the second semester stripping in a club, and I used what I earned to buy these.”  She cupped and squeezed her new tits.  “I’m wondering if I should drop out of college and just work in a brothel.  Then I’d be around the home more.  And I want to spend some time bonding with you… and dad…”

Michael realised that Brea intended to act like this around his father, too.  He pictured his sister grinding against his father’s cock – and his own cock pressed harder against his sister’s ass.

Brea giggled again.  “I see you like that idea,” she said.

“No,” he said.  “Brea, you have to stay in college.  You can’t drop out.”

She pouted.  “You really want that for me?  You want me to go back and learn how to be a better fuckpig?”

“Yes,” he said.  “I mean, no.  I mean, I want you to study, and get your degree.  You’re really smart, Brea.”

She bit her lip.  “Professor Sterretz *does* say I’m a fast learner,” she giggled.  “All right, Michael.  I like that you care about me so much.  I’ll make you a deal.  I want to play some games with you, to help you learn how to act around me now.  If you play all my games, by the rules that I set, I’ll go back to college when it’s time, okay?”

“Okay,” he said.

“Wonderful!” she said – and kissed him again.  It was getting hard for Michael to think straight.  Her every movement teased his cock.  He wasn’t one to just ejaculate without the right stimulation, though – and right now he desperately wanted to stroke his cock – or push it into something warm and wet…

“So the games work like this,” she said.  “When you do well in the games, you get a reward from your sexy sister.  But when you do badly, I do something slutty that makes it harder for me to ever not be a pain-doll, understand?”

Michael didn’t, really, but he said, “Yes.”

“The first game is the game of names,” she said.  “From now until our parents get home, you’re not allowed to call me ‘Brea’ anymore.  Or ‘sis’.  You have to call me something that recognises that I’m a rapedoll.  Try ‘cunt’ or ‘bitch’.”

“Brea…” he objected.

“Oh no, you’re losing already!” Brea pouted.  She rose up off his lap, reached under her skirt, and wiggled her panties down her leg.  They were a tiny pink G-string.  She tossed them at his face, then smoothed her skirt and sat back on his lap.  “Every time you get it wrong, I take a piece of clothing off,” she said.  “Which really *should* be a reward for you, but it seems like you’re still trying to believe I’m not a fucktoy, so maybe you’ll try and avoid stripping your sister nude.  And if you get it wrong another two times, I’m *also* going to take your cock out of your pants, and make you leave it out until I’m satisfied you know what to call me.”

He pulled her panties off his face – they smelled like pussy – and gaped at her.

“Say, ‘I understand, cunt,’” she urged, and wiggled her ass.

“I understand, cunt,” he said, blushing.

“Good boy!” she said delightedly.  “Now ask me to fetch you something.”

‘Hey bitch, go get me a drink,” said Michael.  He realised it actually did feel good to treat her like this – the words carried an erotic charge that made his cock strain urgently at his pants.

“Of course, sir,” said Brea cutely, and ran off to the kitchen, returning with a can of soda.

“Thanks, cunt,” said Michael, and Brea giggled with happiness and sat back in his lap, giving him another kiss – his “reward”.

“Now, insult me three times,” said Brea.  “You’re never going to learn how to use me while you respect me.  Pick three things about me and criticise me.  Be as offensive as possible.  I’m going to stroke your cock through your pants after each one, and the more degraded I feel, the nicer I’m going to make you feel.”

He almost moaned at the idea of Brea stroking his cock – and then he did moan, when she climbed off him, and knelt on the floor in front of him, looking up at him.  Her huge new tits brushed against his legs.

“I don’t think I can do this, Brea,” he said.  “I love you.  You’re my sister.  I don’t want to degrade you.”

“Your cock wants to degrade me,” she replied.  “And my name’s not Brea, remember?”  And with that, she took off her “cocksleeve” shirt, pulling it up and over her head.  Michael gaped as his sister’s giant new fake tits came into view, cupped in a lacy pink bra that didn’t so much conceal them as offer them up to him.

“Only one more mistake, and your cock comes out and stays out, Michael,” said Brea.  “Although you might like that, I suppose…”

“Put your clothes back on, bitch,” said Michael, desperately.

She bit her lip.  “Make me,” she said.  “Or otherwise, insult me.  If you don’t insult me, it means you’re not playing the game, and I don’t go back to college.”

“Jesus,” swore Michael.  “You are such a disgusting slut now, cunt.  I can’t believe how whorish you’re being.”

Brea sighed happily.  “Not really an insult,” she said.  “Just a statement of truth.  But baby steps are a good start.”  And she reached out and rubbed her hand across the crotch of Michael’s pants.

Michael moaned.  It felt so good – and when she stopped, he wanted to grab her hand and make her continue.

“Those ridiculous fake tits make you look like a stripper cow, cunt,” he said.  He didn’t need to reach for this one – he’d been thinking it since he saw her.  It was hard to respect her with fuckballoons like these.  “You look like a character from a cartoon porn movie.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Brea, and stroked his cock again.  This time she gripped it, through his pants, and pumped, and when she was done there was a little wet spot on his pants from the pre-cum soaking though.

He was silent for a moment.  “One more,” she reminded him.

He stared at her tits again.  He couldn’t think of another real insult for her.  He genuinely did love her.  But he *did* want her to pump his cock again.  He kept looking at her boobs, so large and fake.  It didn’t need to be a real insult.  She was smiling when he insulted her.  She liked it.  She just wanted him to get into the spirit of it.

“Only a stupid cunt like you would get fake tits like that and then wear a *bra*,” he said, finally.  “You don’t deserve support.  You must be a dumb bitch to get fake tits and then *cover them up*.”

She opened her mouth – genuinely surprised at his vicious insult – and then moaned.  Her hand went back to his cock and began vigorously pumping it.  Her whole face flushed in sexual arousal.

Oh god, Michael thought, I’m going to cum.  I’m going to cum in my pants.  My own sister is going to make me cum…

But she stopped at the last minute.  Any longer and Michael would have been spurting even if she took her hand away.  He bucked his hips in frustration.  He once again thought about just grabbing her, just *using* her…

But she was his sister.

“Brea…” he moaned.

She frowned.  “Oh, no, Michael, you were doing so well, and now you’ve gone and called me the wrong name.”

She reached out, and deftly pulled down the fly of his trousers.  Then she reached into his fly.  He thought she was going to pull his underpants down, but instead she reached deeper, grabbed the entire crotch of the underpants, and lifted it up, moving it over his cock – he groaned as it pulled briefly at his erect member, before moving on and letting his dick flop freely – and then placed it to the side of his entire cock and balls.  She withdrew her hand, brushing his cock as she did, getting a smear of his pre-cum on her fingers. 

As Michael looked mutely at his thick hard cock now emerging from his pants into full public view, his sister lifted her fingers to her mouth and licked his pre-cum off them.

Then she stood, uncinched her skirt, and let it drop to the floor.  She had already removed her panties – her cunt was now bare.

Michael couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his sister’s pussy – surely before puberty had set in.  But it was now just as hairless as when she had been a toddler. 

He had a better view now, though, because his sister’s cunt lips were splayed wide open.  Each was stuck to her inner thighs using a small piece of transparent tape, pulling her pussy completely open to his gaze.  He could see her pink inner lips, the perk nub of her clitoris, and the inviting entrance to her fucktunnel.  And it was all wet – dripping wet.  A long, sticky rope of cunt-drool stretched between her spread cunt lips, and her inner thighs were wet with her fuckhoney.

“Professor Sterretz says that keeping ourselves always open reminds us what we’re for,” said Brea.  “And reminds anyone who sees our pussy, of course, too.”

“You look like a whore…” Michael said, half-hoping the insult might provoke her to masturbate him.  He only needed a little more to cum…. But she just giggled.

“Oh, I promised you a present before!” she said suddenly.  “For calling me a rapetoy!”  She ran back to where her bags were – he got a good view of her bare ass, wiggling attractively as she balanced on her stripper heels – and came back a moment later with a box, giftwrapped in gold paper.  She knelt in front of him again, and he couldn’t help but think how her mouth was only a foot and a half from his cock.

“Okay, it’s a pretty good present,” she said, “but before I give it to you, you have to learn to hurt me.”

“Hurt you?” Michael asked.

“Yes,” said Brea.  “You’ll never learn to rape me if you can’t hurt me.”

“I don’t *want* to rape you!” Michael protested – but his cock twitched as he said it, suggesting the lie.

“Slap me across the face,” said Brea.  “For being a disgusting slut.”

“No!” protested Michael.

“Yes,” she said, “or I don’t go back to college.  If you slap my face, I’ll give your cock a little slap in return.  You’ll like it.”

He knew he *would* like it.  He reached out, and gave her a little tap on her cheek.

She frowned.  “That’s pathetic, Michael,” she said.  She gave his cock a little flick with her forefinger.  It wasn’t pleasurable – it hurt.

“Ow!” he protested.

“Oh, was I a bitch?” asked Brea.  “Why don’t you slap me to teach me a lesson?”

He reached out and slapped her, a little harder this time, but still careful not to damage her.

She wrinkled her face in disgust.  “What the fuck was that?” she asked – and flicked his cock again.

“OW!” Michael roared.  It hurt!  And, reflexively, he reached out and slapped her a third time – hard.

Her face whipped to her right with the impact, and when she turned back to face him he saw a red, angry handprint on her cheek – and a look of raw lust and adoration in her eyes.

“Thank you sir,” she said.  “I’m sorry I was a bitch, sir.”  And she reached out and gave his cock a light, open-handed slap, making it bounce.  It didn’t hurt at all – it was like a very small, short, masturbation.  A drop of pre-cum flew off the tip of his cock and landed on the leather covering of the couch.  Brea immediately leaned forward and licked it up eagerly, then looked at him again.

Michael couldn’t believe how good it had felt to slap her, to just let all the inhibitions about hurting a woman go.  It felt *satisfying* deep down, to express his dominance, to treat her like an object, to punish her for her slutty behaviour, to make her hurt.

God, he wanted her to touch his cock again.

“Do I require any other punishment, sir?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.  “This is for being a cockteasing little bitch, cunt.”  And he slapped her again – and once again, hard.

This time he was sure he might have left a bruise on her, and he momentarily panicked.  But Brea didn’t care.  “Don’t worry,” she said.  “I’ll tell daddy I fell down while jogging.  And anyway, once I’ve played these games with him, he’ll give me one of his own.”  And she reached out and slapped his cock again, this time getting her hand smeared with his pre-cum, which she again licked off her fingers easily.

“What about my present, cunt?” he said.

“One more game,” she said.  She stood up, ran down the corridor to the bedrooms, and came back without the box.  “I’ve put the box on my bedside table,” she said.  “You need to drag me to my bedroom, get me on my bed, rip off my bra, and slap my new fake tits three times.  If you can do that, you can open your present.”

Michael knew he should argue – but he *wanted* to do this.  His sister made him feel confusing, guilty, sexual things – had *made* him do things, had taken away his choice, had seduced him.  He wanted to hurt her.  He wanted to force her.  He wanted to take back control. 

“Okay,” he said, and stood up.  Brea was surprised by how quickly he agreed, and didn’t manage to move out of the way.  His cock bumped against her face, smearing pre-cum in her eyes, and Michael thought about just grabbing her and pushing his dick into her mouth – but he would play the game a little longer.  He stepped past her, grabbed a handful of her long dirty-blonde hair, and pulled.

She squealed, and fell backward, almost onto her back, except held up by his grip on her hair.  She struggled, and tried to get free, but he walked on towards the bedroom, pulling her by her hair, making her slide across the carpet.  Her legs kicked prettily, drawing attention to her nude sluttily-spread cunt.

When he got to her bedroom – still decorated in the lacy pink-and-white of the young, innocent girl who had gone away to college a year ago – he pulled her to her feet, then pushed her, so that she sprawled ass-up, tits-down onto the bed, her feet still on the floor but her face on the mattress. 

Her ass and cunt winked at him in this position.  He felt his cock tickle the entrance to her pussy – felt her wet fuckhoney mixing with his pre-cum – and the urge to just push forward and enter her was almost overwhelming.  She wiggled her ass a little, encouraging him – but he stepped to the side instead, moving his cock away.  He picked up her legs and lifted, pulling her up onto the bed, and rolled her over.

Now she was tits up, legs spread, cunt inviting, and again he could have just shoved his cock into her.  He leaned forward over her, grabbed at her bra, pulled – but it didn’t rip.  It was too sturdily made.

Brea raised her hands to slap at his, in a feeble struggle.  She really looked like she didn’t want him to do this – except that her face still had that slutty, mischievous smile.  He wanted to slap it off her.  Then he realised he *could* slap it off her, and did, striking her cheek with his hand again.  She moaned, and let her hands drop.

He saw that her bra was held together by a catch at the front.  He was grateful – flipping her over again would have been an embarrassing admission of a mistake.  He unhooked the catch, and pulled the bra open, to reveal her magnificent plastic tits.

“Please don’t,” Brea whispered.  “You’re my brother.  This is wrong.”  But that slutty smile was creeping back onto her face.

He raised his hand and brought it down on her tit.  SLAP!  She squealed – and he was sure that this squeal was genuine.  The slap had really hurt.

Good.  He raised his hand and slapped her again, harder. 

She bucked and tried to cover her tits.  “Jesus, Michael, that’s *hard*!” she complained.

He pulled her hands away, then slapped her face again, then looked at her big, whorish tits.

He couldn’t help himself any longer.  He pushed forward, and let his cock slide into his sister’s cunt.

“Michael, what are you doing?” she moaned.  “You’re raping me!  I’m your sister!  Stop!”

He didn’t even look at her face now.  She was struggling, bucking, trying to get away from him.  He hadn’t intended to pump his cock into her – he wanted to enjoy the feeling of being inside her.  It was the first time he’d ever had his cock in a woman’s cunt – in fact, his sister’s cunt was the first adult cunt he had seen in person.  But her struggles were making it hard to not just orgasm here and now.

He raised his hand and slapped her tits again.  This was the hardest of the three, and she made a choked sob of agony as his hand made its impact.

“Where’s my present, bitch?” he growled.

“On the table,” she said, and pointed.  “But Michael,,” she said, “I don’t like telling a man he can’t do what he wants, but I have to, to make sure you learn.  You need to use your present on my cunt before you cum.  If you cum before you do, I’m not going back to college, *and* I’m going to tell people that you raped me.”

He felt a surge of fear.  He slapped her tits again.  It was so hard to not just *cum* in her….

“Just use it on my cunt,” she said.  “Then you can cum.  I just want you to know that you were willing to do this to me, in order to cum.  Because your pleasure is what’s important, Michael.”

He regretfully pulled out of his sister, in order to walk the couple of steps to the bedside table and open the box.  She lay there, legs still spread, watching him.

Inside the box was a black plastic wand-like device with two metal prongs at the end.  It was a stun-gun – an electrical zap gun designed to disable attackers.

“It’s charged,” she said.  “I charged it.”

“You want me to use this… on your pussy?” he asked.

“I don’t want you to,” she said.  “I’m scared of it.  I saw a video of a girl who got Tasered in the cunt and she went half-unconscious and wet herself.  But I want you to know that you can do this to me – that you will do this to me – in order to cum inside me.  I want it so much.”

He looked at the stun gun.  He looked at his sister’s cunt.

“You don’t have to,” she said.  “You don’t forfeit the game or anything if you don’t.  But you can’t cum unless you do.  If you do it, it’s entirely because you want to cum inside me.”

He looked at her nude, wet cunt.  He looked at the stun gun.  He thought about his cock, and how *close* he was to cumming.

He stepped back towards her.  She couldn’t help herself, and tried to close her legs.  She really *was* scared of the gun.  He pushed his legs between hers, and wrestled them open.  She tried to wriggle away, but he pulled her closer by her legs until his cock was about a half-foot from her fuckhole.

“Wait,” she said.  “Give me time to prepare.  Actually I don’t know if I want this.” 

He made no sign of listening to her.

“Michael, I’ve changed my mind,” she said.  “It’s okay.  You can cum in me.”  Her eyes widened.  “Michael, I’m fucking *scared*!  Please don’t shock me….”

He pushed the stun gun down, pressing it right against her clitoris, and pulled the trigger.

There was a zap, and his sister writhed and spasmed.  She didn’t yell – the zap had removed her ability to make noise.  She thankfully didn’t wet herself. 

Michael had almost cum when he pulled the trigger.  Almost.  But not quite.  So he pushed his cock back into his sister’s cunt – and discovered that her cunt muscles were spasming uncontrollably, flexing and relaxing in a twitchy, demented rhythm that felt amazing against his cock.

“I was right before,” he said, as he began to rape Brea’s vagina.  “You *are* a rapetoy now.  But I was also wrong.  Because I think you’re a cum-toilet too.”  The words gave him an erotic thrill.  It felt *so good* to sexually degrade his sister.  He realised that he could do this whenever he wanted now.  She really would be his cum-toilet – a hole for him to ejaculate into whenever he wanted, regardless of what she was doing or whether she consented. 

Her eyes, which had rolled up in her head when he zapped her, began to refocus – and that lustful, slutty smile slowly returned to her face.  “Yes, sir,” she said.  “Oh god, I’m so glad you’re finally raping me.”  She bucked her hips a little.  “By the time I’m done teaching you, Michael, you’re going to forget I was ever human.  I’m just going to be the object that you have fun raping and hurting.”

He didn’t want to hear her talk anymore, so he slapped her to shut her up, and a moment later, he went over the edge.  He moaned, and grunted, and felt spurt after spurt of hot cum begin to shoot out of his cock into his sister’s womb as he orgasmed.

Afterwards, when the lust cleared from his brain, he was going to feel incredibly guilty about everything he had done.  He was going to vow to never do it again, to treat his sister like a person, to help her recover from her new “slut” phase.

But he was also going to remember that raping his sister was the best feeling of his life.  He was going to remember how good it felt to ejaculate into her pussy.  He was going to remember how satisfying it had been to slap her, and how sexily she had moaned when he did.  And every time he masturbated he was going to remember that the very best bits were the bits where she struggled, where she had seemed like she really *wasn’t* consenting anymore, however artificial those protests had really been.

Eventually, he *was* going to rape Brea again.  After all, she wanted him to, right?  She would practically beg him to rape her.

And if she didn’t… well, he still had the stun gun.


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