Twins of Mayhem

Part One:

Twins Izzie and Jezzie of the family Smythe plopped down onto their beds, exhausted after a long day of chores, work, arguing and protestation, too tired even to close the door of their shared Master Bedroom—there were only two bedrooms available for their family in the mansion they share with many others, so the twins share the large bedroom to avoid strife, while their mom and dad share the other bedroom (which was thankfully located fairly far away).

Isabellona Rayna and Jezzebella Robyna Smythe-Nightingale are daughters of wealthy businesswoman Deanna Ibssri and free-lance author-poet Matthias Smythe. They married early, had two wonderful daughters, and decided that they weren't ready for such a commitment and broke up, no harm, no foul, no hard feelings, no hate. Deanna is a strict, hard woman, so she isn't friends with her ex, but she does not hate him, as some women come to hate her exes. They moved on, Deanna marrying her work, Matthias remarrying, this time to Chrys Nightingale.

Original name: Christopher Johanna. Yes, he is a dude, and I'm not quite done explaining the name and he himself. Chrys comes from a wealthy, uptight, homophobic family. His mother and father are the tight-assiest, snobbiest preps to ever walk this earth—and his five brother and six sisters are no different. He discovered young that he had an affinity for the opposite sex. He tried to keep it a secret, knowing full well how they feel about such things, but they found out two years after he did, himself. They tried to "knock" it out of him, but it didn't work. If anything it only strengthened his homosexuality—as a teenager, sexual preference and the urge to be rebellious worked together to increase such carnal desires.

At eighteen he couldn't take the scorn, the disgust, the denial and the attempts to ruin the life he wanted. He left home, disowned and left to receive nothing from the family fortune, ever. He would be on his own, penniless and alone, with nothing but a few items of clothing and precious mementos. He was doomed to live a wretched life, full of misery, despair and poverty. With no money now, and the hope of none later, he would have to fight and to work hard to survive in the most minimal, lowly, difficult ways, for that's how you begin out on the streets, in order to rise up and prosper (if you do, that is).

He had never been happier.

At the age of nineteen he found his talent and love to be in the field of home decorating (cliché and stereotypical, I know, but that's just how it goes). At twenty he changed his name. At twenty-two he found Matthias (Mattie), divorced and all alone with two darling children (young and left to him—Deanna didn't want them as much as Matthias; she decided she wouldn't make a very good mother, although she does love them very much). They (Matt and Chrys, Mattie and Chryssie) fell in love, married, and added his new name onto theirs.

Full Changed Name: Chrysanthemum Nightingale. This is most commonly shortened to Chrys Night so that it's easier to say, and so that people won't feel as awkward around him, able to just assume he was straight and effeminate, and move on. Due to their influence and preference, and discontent with people like the Johanna's, Jezzie and Izzie became avid believers in gay rights and the injustice of this worlds views of those attracted to members of their own sex.

But right now they are not thinking about that. What they are thinking about is the horror that they had just learned of, a wretched ending to a dismal day.

Izzie pushed herself up into a sitting position, and Jezzie did the same. Being the more lively and athletic, as opposed to reserved and prodigical, one of the two, Jezzie still had some energy reserves after a day of housework, next-to unaided by the others of the house (for they were not home), so she was the one forced to get up and close the door so that the twins could change for bed and talk privately.

Their room had been decorated by Chrys's help as soon as they had reacted teenage-hood, with suggestions, preferences and requests from the two girls. The dark wooden floorboards were mostly covered up by the large oriental carpets done in deep, dark, rich colors and shades, made for use and ever-lasting beauty. The walls had been painted a light bronze to contrast nicely to the floors and matching trim, while still giving the room a warm, cozy feeling. Their beds were on opposite sides of the room, the two halves separated by an invisible barrier. The twins are very close, their connection bordering on ESP, so they don't need all that much privacy and "alone time" and "personal space" as some siblings, even some twins, may. The light was a chandelier, or while the brightness of the room is adjustable, and the two girls had matching dressers, nightstands, lamps and one vanity table, which they share.

"It's not fair!" Izzie indignantly huffed, managing to avoid turning her voice into a whine as she did so, a feat her twin could never accomplish. She had torn off her dark green blouse an thrown it angrily to the floor, leaving her white lace bra open for all to see—all being just her sister, Jezzie.

"It's really not," Jezzie darkly rumbled, growling like a Siberian tiger. She had decided to remove her dark blue jeans first, and was busying herself with the zipper. They were getting to be too tight for her developing muscles; not quite the same problem Izzie faced. The both of them had removed their old, beaten up, worn white sneakers upon entering the room.

"They have no right to do this to us!" Izzie snapped, rummaging around threw her drawers, searching for her short silken nightgown, still wearing only her dark blue jeans—identical to her sister's, and just as tight on her—they used to be the same size, and now it looks like they are close to it once again.

"No right? I should say! They have less than no right! They have nothing!" Jezzie fairly roared, rummaging around just as carelessly and wildly, still only wearing her dark red muscle shirt and white panties, searching for her pajama shorts and undersized shirt—just like her sisters PJs, something she would never wear in public (although they technically could).

Izzie and Jezzie found what they were looking for and finished changing, heading over to the vanity table to brush their hair and talk some more, looking at themselves and each other simultaneously.

Jezzie needs nowhere near as much time to comb her hair, since she had recently got it cut to just below her ears, but she was so angry that such minor details do not faze her. She had inherited the slick, silky black hair from her mother, which (when short) seems oddly masculine—not that she cares. She often comes off at a boy for her small breasts and muscularly straight figure, nowhere near as pleasant and curvaceous as her sisters. Odd, just as she also inherited her mother's bright green eyes, and her hair, she inherited her father's physique and face—slim, muscular, handsomely attractive—while Izzie inherited their father's eyes and hair, and their mother's face and physical semblance.

Izzie needs a good long time to comb her hair, because although she inherited her father's hair, she grows it to her mother's length—which is the same thing that Jezzie does, only reversed. His hair is thick, wavy and brown—far more appealing on a woman, in terms of length and the enhancement of physical features. She also inherited his deep, dark, warm brown eyes—hers portray intelligence, wisdom and foreboding, not innocence, a kind nature and a sweet soul (although her cold, vicious, tough, cruel exterior may hide such things). Actually—they do. It's just that Jezzie, and only Jezzie, sees the "real her." Her soft, pleasant squishiness hides hard, strong muscles (just as Jezzie's muscles mask the fact that she is somewhat soft and squishy) but they are nowhere near Jezzie's level of toughness, nor are they quite so visible at all.

The both of them inherited her mom's golden, bronze-like, deep, dark, warm, soft, Grecian goddess-like skin—and they were both Junoesque, only in very different ways.

Here I am, going on and on. Let's continue with the story; there'll be time for explanation later—tehehe! PROCEED:

Izzie turned to her sister as she slammed her white brush down. "What makes them think that they can order us around and push us about like we're their servants?"

Jezzie mimicked the motion, slamming her black brush down, and returned the same angry, indignant look. "I know! How dare they treat us in such a way—like we're children!"

"I know!" they chorused, stomping off to their identical beds. It may just be the beginning of fall, but the mansion is cold, empty and made of stone, so it can get cold. They buried themselves in their twin covers of mahogany first, then copper, lying on top of the iron sheets. They snuggled up nice and tight, rolled onto their sides to face one another and continue their conversation, less outraged (on the surface) and more discussing their situation and trying to determine how best to handle it (while silently fuming!).

Izzie sighed and regained herself back into her usual composure—which would be composed! (Unlike her twin—they look so different, and act so different too, and have totally opposite personalities! It didn't work with their parents, but it somehow works for them! Kyah!) "We have to think clearly, sister. Be reasonable. Maybe if we keep calm, level, cool heads we'll be able to think ourselves a way out of this."

Jezzie could tell that her sister was growing weary of it all, and physically tired to the point that her eyes lids were dropping, but not she! She still retained enough energy to remain wide awake with anger and rejections. Perhaps Izzie is not all that bothered with the idea…? "…No, I don't think we can." She sighed, her anger fading and being replaced by defeat."

"And why not?"

"They've already signed us up and paid for everything! We're leaving in a week, and there is not time or opening enough to get out of it…"

"Since when has that ever gotten in our way before?"

"…True, but—"

"No ifs, ands or buts! If we want to get out of it, we will. Do you want to get out of it?"

"Yes, but—"

"What did I say about that word?"

"Yes, but—"


"Fine! We have no way to get out of it!"

"Good; you removed the offending word and just went on with the sentence…And your words are true and wise, sister."

"They are?"

"You seem surprised. Are you that unsure of yourself and your intelligence?"

"No, but—"

"We can't get out of it, this is true, but—"

"How come you can use the word?!"

"Because. We—"

"Because why?"

"Because because. We can't get out if it, but that's not what's bothering you about this whole thing."

"It's not?"

"No. You are bothered because you won't fit in with those rich, snobby preps—you work by your might, and hurting fragile girls is beneath you, not to mention a major violation of school rules—and common courtesy and conduct—and any rules, for that matter."

"Well if you're so smart, answer me this: What is bothering me about all of that?"

"Yes, I know I am. What's bothering you about this whole thing is that you are more guy than girl—no offense meant—and you would feel more comfortable around the species of men, of which you were meant to be a member of, I swear, and being around girls would simply aggravate you tough, rough, wild, strong, overactive, strength-craving, rambunctious, pugnatious, fiery, improper, most unladylike spirit, body, mind and soul."

"Wow—y'know what, Izzie?"


"You oughtta become a psychiatrist; you know more about people than people know about themselves."

"I know—it's a burden I was born to bear."

"But that still leaves one question, O Genius One."

"What's that?"

"You should know—what are we gonna do about it?"

"Oh—that's easy enough—and you're right, I do know, just wasn't expecting it. You see, we're just gonna sneak you into its twin of a school—for boys."

"Just?! Just? Just! That doesn't generate an answer, it creates a problem!"

"Not really."

"What—do you already have a solution?"

"Of course I do—and a fairly easy one to follow through with…"

"…Tell me! Don't leave me in suspense!"

"All we have to do is switch you with a boy going to the school you desire to attend."

"And where are we going to get a guy willing to do such a thing?"

"Right there in this very home."

"…You're a genius!"
"I know…all we need is to…persuade him…"

"Won't be hard," Jezzie mumbled.

Izzie laughed and rolled over, turning away from her sister, pulling the blankets around her. Jezzie smiled, sending waves of gratitude to her most awesome sister, turning off the light for them both (it's the least she can do!) and going to sleep almost instantly, eager for the next day—and week—and month—and year…

Off to Boarding School(s) we go!

Owned by TigerBlizzard

Unwittingly Inspired by Izzy-chan

Coming Up Next: The Twins of Mayhem Begin Their Life's Work!