3NOTE
This is not based on any real event. I repeat NOT REAL. Also, I understand that this may not be easy for some to read. You need an open mind and a strong heart/stomach. If you read it until the end, you will understand that this story has a morale to it and I am in no way trying to offend or accuse anyone whatsoever by the events that take place in this story. I apologize now if you don't feel that way but I repeat: Not a true STORY. Thank you for your time.
WARNING contains strong sexual content/references mixed with violence and some coarse language.
End of note.
Misguided Games
It all started when my single mother married a chump. He had a 15-year-old daughter by the name of Christine. Now she was my stepsister. I was just twelve years old and I was forced to move in with these people I barely knew. It didn't bother me that much at first but it didn't take long for me to regret it. I didn't like Christine's father much but that wasn't the problem. The problem was his daughter. I didn't know that she was a bully at first and I wasn't afraid of her. She was bigger than I was. She was a mildly chubby girl with long brown hair and brown eyes. She was my stepsister and I did try and get to know her.
At first, she didn't seem to like me at all. She ignored me most of the time but then it got worse. She was angry about something but all she seemed to care about was taking it out on me. We were always alone after school and it took hours before either of our parents returned from work. She started beating me up like I was a punching bag. There wasn't much I could do. She was stronger than me. I was a short and scrawny kid even for my age. It didn't matter how tough I was, this girl was all over me. It was like any of my friends described as a brother-sister relationship. It was to be expected they said. It got much worse.
Christine got home one day with a pissed-off look on her face. I really didn't care about why she was so upset because I knew she would take it out on me. There was nothing I could do really. She hit me like she usually did though she was much more upset than usual. I really picked the wrong day to insult her. As she hit me I yelled out:
"Get off me you bitch!"
She really didn't like that. Normally I didn't call her names: I only tried to defend myself from her assaults. This time, she went completely crazy. She grabbed me and dragged me to her room by my short hair. She didn't say a word. She threw me on her bed in her pink room and told me to stay there. I did what I was told, otherwise she could have dragged me right back. I waited patiently for her return. What I saw when she came back scared the hell out of me.
She held a kitchen knife in her palm. It wasn't very big but it was sharp. Besides, considering how small I was, that knife looked terrifying. She stood in the doorway with the knife pointing towards me. She stepped in slowly and locked the door behind her, even though that wouldn't change anything: we were the only ones home. She approached the foot of her bed with so much hate in her eyes. If I had anything weaker for a heart, it would have stopped beating altogether from the terror I felt. I crawled back against the wall while kicking the bed sheets off from underneath me like a cornered cat would do.
"What are you doing?" I stuttered in fright. She didn't respond. All she gave me was a deadly gaze.
"I'm just gonna cut your penis off you little bastard!" She spat.
She crawled over the bed with her hand still holding the knife. She threatened me with it when I was trying to fight back. She tried to take my clothes off with only one hand but found it impossible. She set the knife down on the night table and struck me with both of her fists to settle me down. I had both my arms up protecting my face and crying. When she saw I was calm enough, she took my shirt off and proceeded with my pants and shorts, afterwards. I cried and cried but it was no use. She had the knife pressed against my belly in an effort to make me stop fidgeting. It worked. I froze in terror.
She slid the knife down to my hairless pubis and touched me with her other hand. She grabbed my penis and pulled on it. I just cried. She let it go and pressed the cold knife against it instead. She started to move the cold blade around my flesh and explored my sex.
"Or maybe just your testicles." She reconsidered while venturing the knife down to my sac. She could feel the extreme fear coming from my shaky body and coaxed it farther by fondling my fragile organs with her knife.
"Oh my god! Oh my god! NONONON. Please don't!" I cried incoherently. She grimaced at me, showing me the hate that tightened her teeth together. I covered my eyes not to see anymore. I wanted to escape the horror however I could. I shouldn't have because then I couldn't notice the sudden hesitation in her eyes. I cried and cried. She only told me a few weeks later that what she did next was an accident. Having looked at her as she did it would have given me a better clue but since I didn't see exactly what happened, I may never have believed her.
I felt a sudden coldness in my inner thigh followed by a faint rush of fluids poring down my leg to soak the sheets underneath. I lifted my hands off my face and took a look at the handle of the knife sticking horizontally out of my small thigh. I could see the tip of it exiting the other side. She must have just missed the bone because that knife looked very close to being seated in the middle of my scrawny leg.
"Oh my god you're crazy! You're crazy! You're trying to kill me!" I screamed in total disbelief. Christine looked down at what she did and then looked me in the eyes.
"Shut up you pansy; it didn't even hurt!" She said while pulling the knife out of my leg. She saw the blood squirt out and stain my other leg while dripping all over her bed. She set the bloody knife on the night table and pressed my chest down against the bed.
"Don't move. I'll be back." She said coldly.
I cried and cried but nothing seemed to make sense anymore. I looked at the knife on the table and considered using it to defend myself. I was sure she was trying to kill me but I knew that if I tried to use it against her, it would never work. She would just rip it out of my hand and finish what she started. She was significantly bigger than me. The knife would never pierce her flesh as it could mine. I decided against using it. I just hoped that she wasn't going to come back with something bigger or more painful.
She came back with a towel and a sad look on her face. She sat on her bed and lifted my injured leg up. She wrapped the towel around it very tightly to make the bleeding stop. I moaned in pain and hid my tears with my hands. She picked up the knife from the table and pointed it at me again.
"If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you." She said coldly.
"Christine, how can I keep this a secret? You stabbed me in the fucking leg! I should go to the fucking hospital!" I said. Anger appeared on her face again. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me towards the side of the bed.
"Try to stand up on it." She ordered while pressing her hand on my back and violently shoving me off the bed.
I tried my best to stop myself from falling flat on my stomach from the push she gave me. I bent forward and balanced myself on both of my legs. I tried to stand up but my wounded leg couldn't support my weight. It was far too painful and weak. I stood on one leg and shook my head at her.
"Fuck!" She yelled. She got off the bed and threw me back down on it. This time I was on my stomach. She sat on my lower back and pressed my head against her pillow.
"Look what you made me do!" She yelled into my ear.
"Stop it, stop it!" I moaned.
"You can't even stand up properly! But don't worry. I know what to do. Don't you move from there or I swear I'll drive that knife right through your heart." She threatened. She picked up the knife from the night table and left her room.
A few minutes later she returned with a sledgehammer. I didn't even want to look at what evil plan she had in store for me. I had more than I could bear already. She sat down on my back, facing my feet. She held the hammer in her right hand and pinched my wounded leg. She inspected my soft flesh near my knee. She focused on the thicker fleshy part just past the joint. I didn't think she had the slightest idea how badly she could crush my bones with a hammer like that but I decided to keep that comment for myself. I stuffed my head in her pillow while she lifted her right arm high up in the air. I heard a loud thud as the hammer squashed my leg flesh against my bone. If I had been lying on a hard surface, the power of that hit would have shattered my leg in pieces. I yelled and screamed in her pillow as the pain caught up to me.
"There! Now you'll have a nice explanation for why you're limping. Now get the fuck out of my room and clean yourself up. You better disinfect your wound and wrapped it up." She said as she got off of me. She picked up my clothes from the floor and shoved it in my face. She pushed me the rest of the way out of her room to speed things up and slammed the door on my back. I walked like a zombie to the washroom and did what she told me. In the mean time, Christine tore the blood covered sheets off her bed and threw them in the garbage. She looked at the stains on her mattress and cried. She could easily cover up the lost sheets but the mattress was out of her league. She decided to take a chance and simply hide it. It worked.
After that, we didn't speak. No one cared what happened to my leg but for those that asked, I showed them the giant bruise with all the veins sticking out of it. My leg looked like it was bleeding on the inside. It didn't matter, that was just a cover up for what really happened. I told them that I got kicked in the leg while playing soccer, which only my closest friends knew that it was a lie. Still, they didn't ask for the truth. I kept my mouth shut the rest of the time. I could see the evil gaze my stepsister gave me to keep me at bay. When I came back home, I sat on the couch. I let my leg heal peacefully while I was watching TV. I spend all my time in front of that thing only to escape my stepsister's deadly gaze.
A week later, Christine got really upset that I was wasting my life in front of the damned TV and pretending like she didn't exist. She stood in front of the screen with her arms crossed. She frowned at me for a moment and bend forward to yank the remote out of my hands. She closed the TV and set the remote on the table. She approached me slowly and stared at me. She struck her fist on my chest and pulled my arm until I was off the couch.
"Get off the couch you lazy slacker!" She screamed. I panicked. I didn't fight the strong hold she had on my arm but I tried to stop her free hand from harming me. She dragged me to her room again. She pushed me inside and locked the door behind her.
"Take your clothes off." She ordered.
I didn't move. Christine got angry and did it for me. When she was done, she threw me on her bed. I lied on my back and waited. This time was different; this time she was taking her clothes off too. I didn't know what to think. I had no idea what she wanted to do with me but I tried my best not to panic. She hated it when I panicked. She finished taking her clothes off and sat next to me. She took a look under the thin bandages that covered my stab wound to see how I was healing. She smirked and started to inspect the rest of my body with her hands and eyes. She opened the drawer and took something out of it. I turned my head around not to see what weapon she had already selected. I heard a bottle cap being unscrewed and it caught my curiosity.
I looked over at what my stepsister held in her hand. She had a bottle of baby oil. She poured some of it into her palm and placed the bottle back on her table. She grabbed my penis with her hand and rubbed the oil all over it. She spread it around my crotch as she fondled my genitals. Usually it wouldn't take me this long to be erect but this was completely different. Christine was not initially my type of girl but she was appealing. She may have been somewhat chubby but her skin was very smooth and the fat the covered her was spread out very nicely. I also liked her voice. The fact was that I completely terrified of her and I had also blocked out all possibilities of any sexual confrontation with her. It was taboo in my mind and she was my stepsister.
With enough stroking though, my sex stood up on its own. She squeezed it in her palm and stroked it in an unpleasant way. I didn't move or speak but I did start crying. She let go of my penis and lifted my wounded leg up not to put pressure on it while she inserted my sex in hers, raping me. She held my leg tightly and squatted up and down on my small body. She jumped up and down rapidly, using my penis like toy. I covered my face with my hands and cried like a baby. I didn't want to see any of it. Christine was really insulted by this move and began to hurt me. She pushed my hands off of my face and slapped me on the cheeks over and over again while humping like a savage dog. I kept trying to cover my eyes again and she got really mad.
She pressed both of her hands on my chest and dug her fingers in my flesh until her nails cut me open. She growled at the site of my blood and my fear and moved her harmful attention to my nipples. She grabbed them very tightly between her thumbs and fingers and twisted them as hard as she could. It felt like she was going to tare them right off my pectorals. My screaming only made it worse. She hit me again and again to quiet me down. I learned quickly. I kept both of my hands in front of my eyes and let my tears do the talking until she was done with me. She got off of me and sent me on my way. I took a shower and tried to forget everything that happened.
It took another week before she paid attention to me again. I was still watching the TV a lot but when I saw her gaze at me like that, I immediately turned it off and threw the remote away. She stood there, quietly staring at me. All I could do was stare back. I had no intention of making her angry again. After a moment of staring at each other, she spoke:
"Follow me to my room." She said quietly. I did what she asked and followed her in her room. She did the same as before and locked the door behind her.
"Take your clothes off." She ordered. I froze and shook my head. Christine approached me and tackled my shirt.
"No stop! Please!" I pleaded as she continued to strip me bare.
"Be quiet." Was all she could say.
She did exactly as she did the last time. She covered my crotch with the smelly baby oil and raped me. I did as before and put my hands in front of my eyes and cried. This time, she let me cry. I cried until she was done with me. When she got off me, she didn't say anything or kick me out of her room. I automatically got off the bed and picked up my clothes. I walked right out of her room and never looked back.
I didn't say anything or do anything else than watch TV again. When Christine decided I had enough television, she just sent me to my room. I pretended to sleep for the rest of the time. She wasn't beating me up or threatening me anymore but I was convinced that her previous threats remained. One day, she came back home with a smile on her face. It was the first time I saw a smile on her that wasn't fake or pushy. I didn't want to comment about it in case it would change her mood. I just looked at her and wondered. She came close to me. I had almost forgotten to close the TV. I closed it and tossed the remote away.
"Come with me." She asked in a soft tone. Whatever it was that made her this nice, I had to make sure she didn't change. I followed her.
She closed the door behind her and locked it as always. She didn't even ask me to take my clothes off this time: she just went right ahead and took them off. I wasn't nearly as scared but I was nervous because her mood could change easily. I was shaking.
"It's ok: I'm not going to hurt you." She whispered in my ear as she continued to undress me. I had no reason to believe that. I just closed my eye and waited for her to send me crashing against her bed. It never happened. When she was done undressing me, she just started to get undressed herself. I was too nervous to move.
"It's ok, really. I'm not going to hurt you. Please, go lie down on the bed." She whispered softly. Just like I promised myself I had to do anything to keep her in a good mood. I lied down on the bed like I used to and waited.
It was different this time. She didn't grab my penis; she held it. She didn't rub the oil on me; she applied it. She didn't squeeze my sex; she applied a soft pressure on it. She didn't harm my flesh; she caressed it. She wasn't raping me; she was making love to me. I didn't cry or cover my eyes this time. I didn't have to.
"Touch me." She asked softly while pressing my hands against her breasts. She bent forward and kissed me on the forehead, on the cheek and then around the mouth. She pressed herself down on my belly and kissed me on the lips while she continued making love to me. When she was done, I didn't have to leave. Instead, she got off of me and lied down on her side. She cuddled me into a ball and pressed me against her breasts. She held me in her arms as she would a lover.
"I'm SO… SO sorry for what I did to you. SO SORRY! I'm just a big bully and I hope you can forgive me." She whispered in my ears.
I just stayed there and enjoyed every moment of this new found peace.
"I forgive you." I whispered back.
She never took out her anger on me after. She never hurt me. She never yelled at me or told me what to do. She didn't have to. I was being very nice to her and she returned the favor. There was nothing wrong between us anymore. I could even see my old scars healing before my eyes. Everything was in the past and the future was looking good for me and my stepsister. We became happy together. We spent real time together, like friends do. We talked and talked and we like each other very much. She had changed greatly and she confessed that it was because of her feeling for me. I changed a lot too. We were in love.
The end.