Up for Debate

I tried to go to sleep after everything that happened that first night in my sister's apartment, I really did. But I couldn't get the image of Grace out of my head. Her naked form as she masturbated, uttering a prayer for my sake as she did. I was so aroused I couldn't sleep, so I told myself that if I found some release it would get it off my mind. I went to the bathroom and jerked into the toilet, and the tension relief was palpable, but it did not bring peace to my mind.

I was able to get some shut eyes, but only after much tossing and turning in my bed. But I dreamed of Grace, of her and I praying together, each pleasuring ourselves as we made our pleas. I remember being so taken in by the way her naked breasts glistened, looking so much as they did when I had spied on her.

That was the last image I had in my brain when I woke up.

"Hey," Grace said, leaning over me.

My eyes immediately focused on her chest, her real and clothed one this time.

"What, is there something on me?" Grace asked, looking down at herself. She must have thought that I was judging her outfit. "Come on, you've seen me dressed for volleyball before."

Now that she mentioned it, my brain finally recognized that was indeed what she was wearing. In truth, the generic sleeveless white shirt she had on wasn't much to look at. If my mind hadn't been filled with a dream version of her boobs, I wouldn't have given it more than a glance. On the other hand, the athletic shorts she was wearing were tight, black, and showed off her long legs. I couldn't see from my front side view, but I was sure they made her ass look great.

Now I was calling my sister's butt an ass. I really couldn't believe what I was becoming.

"Sorry," I managed to make myself say. "It's just...I'm wondering why you woke me up."

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm heading to the rec-center on campus to do my morning workout and maybe play some volleyball," Grace explained. "Didn't want you to wake up wondering where I was."

"Oh, um, thanks," I replied.

"Your welcome," my sister said. She turned around and started walking out the room, confirming my suspicions that her ass looked great in those shorts.

"I'll be back in time for lunch," she added before she went out the door.

"OK," I responded. I laid there in the bed until I heard the front open and close.

"Lucifer," I called out, hoping that the angel would hear me. There was no answer.

I turned my head to look at the nightstand and cross of the Angel of Light that I had left on it the previous night. I took the artifact in hand.

"Lucifer," I repeated.

The angel appeared above my bed, looking down at me. Once again his modesty was protected by nothing more than a floating piece of cloth.

"Yes, Herald?" Lucifer questioned.

"Where do I go from here?" I asked.

"I assume you will eat breakfast at some point," Lucifer snarked.

"Not that," I responded. "I mean with my sister and this...cult you want me to build."

"Ah, yes, that," the angel said, leaning back in the air. "Unfortunately, you are not in the best circumstances for that."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

With a flourish of his hand Lucifer brought forth an illusion consisting of a group of small lights interconnected by lines.

"Human societies are in essence a series of interconnecting relationships," he said. "My cross will only work with one person at a time and using it in public can raise suspicious, so it is imperative that you use your preexisting connections with people to get them in private with you."

"So I can trance them with the cross," I surmised. "I'm pretty sure we discussed this last night."

"Correct," Lucifer confirmed, a flick of his wrist causing several points of light to slide along the lines they were on and converge with one another. I gathered that this represented me pulling people I knew into this new cult.

"But I don't know anyone here other than Grace," I realized.

"That is precisely the obstacle you must overcome," Lucifer commented. With another swish of his hand the lights rearranged themselves, showing one point isolated from the rest with only a single connection linking it to the group.

"So then I have to use Grace's relationships," I stated.

"Correct," Lucifer confirmed. "Using the cross on her will make her more amenable to helping you." He waved his hand one final time, causing the lights to disappear.

"So then I need to come up something new for her to believe in," I commented. I glanced over to the stack of books on early christian cults in the corner. "Does it matter what those beliefs are?"

"There are only two concerns you must keep in mind, a practical and moral one. Practically, you must cause a significant shift in her views, little things like favorite colors won't make an impact. Morally, neither I nor the Most High can abide unnecessary human suffering or loss of life," Lucifer answered.

I took a deep breath and climbed out the bed. "I guess I should eat some breakfast and start thinking up some ideas then."

***

I stood in the shower, trying to collect my thoughts after two and half hours of reading and research. I was starting to put a plan together, I could feel it. But there were still some questions that I needed answered. There was only one place to get them.

With that conclusion in my mind I turned off the water, toweled myself dry, and put on the clean set of clothes that I had brought with me to the bathroom. I walked back to the bedroom with a hand towel slung over my shoulders to keep my still moist hair from dripping water down my neck.

Once I was in the bedroom I took the cross from the nightstand and slid it into my pocket.

"Lucifer, can I ask a few questions?" I asked aloud.

"You may," the Angel of Light responded, a disembodied voice in my ear.

"First," I began. "Can you tell me more about the Messalians and their beliefs? What few records we have of them today are scattered and come from biased sources."

"Ah, yes, by far my most successful cult," Lucifer responded.

I glanced over at the book lying open on the bed. "What separated them from the others?" I asked.

"The Herald that I selected for that cult was...of a particular type of mind," Lucifer explained. "He was a man of great and many sexual proclivities, and taught his followers in ways that fed his appetites."

"What about the allegations of incest, homosexuality, and cannibalism?" I followed up.

"Hah, that Herald was many things, but he was no cannibal!" Lucifer exclaimed with a great laugh. "He was just a raving mad bisexual with a powerful attraction to his younger sisters."

I hesitated for half a moment, trying to work out the significance behind this information. "Were his...tastes important to his success?" I asked after having no luck on my own.

"Yes," Lucifer answered. "Sex is a powerful thing for all living creatures due to the urge to produce young, magnified further in many species by pleasure. It is something both desired and necessary, yet it also a source of shame and derision in many societies. That contrast and the powerful grip it holds on you humans makes sex a particularly useful hook to use my cross with."

"Did he make any mistakes?" I asked.

"An intelligent question," Lucifer commented. "Yes, he did. That Herald was ultimately a hedonist who only did what pleased him, and his efforts in leading the cult waxed and waned with his interest. As time went on infighting amongst initiates became common and a lack of clear direction from him prevented the cult from reaching its full potential."

"Yet it was still the most successful of your cults?" I questioned.

"Without contest," Lucifer confirmed.

"Second question then," I said. "Are you familiar with the Adamites?"

"Ah, interesting," Lucifer commented. "I know of them and their beliefs, but neither iteration of them was mine, no. I take it yo have taken some measure of inspiration from them."

"I have," I confirmed.

"Then I hope to see your plan in action soon," Lucifer responded, grinning.

***

I was sitting on the couch, watching TV, when I heard the door open.

"I'm back!" my sister called out before she closed the door behind her. She came into the living room, the sheen of sweat on her skin and her white shirt damp with the stuff. "That was a good workout," she continued, smiling. "I was able to get in on a pick up game of volleyball. Been a while since I played, it was fun."

"Good to hear," I replied.

"Are you ready leave?" Grace asked, looking at my bare feet. "I'd like to take you somewhere for lunch."

"Lunch would be great," I responded.

My sister smiled, though it looked to me like she was more relieved than happy. "Great! You just get yourself ready. I'll take a quick shower to wash the sweat and grime off."

"Hold on," I said, shifting in my seat to face Grace. I pulled the cross out of my pocket and held it up for her to see. "Would you join me?"

"Again?" Grace asked, a smirk on her face that told me she didn't mean anything by the question. "Sure," she said, sitting down on the coach next to me. She took both her hands and grasped the end of Lucifer's cross. The moment she took hold of it her eyes glazed over and she stared blankly ahead, much as she had the previous night.

"Grace, can you hear me?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered in monotone.

I hesitated, despite the hours that I had put into planning this moment.

"Um..." I began, wishing that I had written a script for myself. I cleared my throat, trying to give myself the space to think of words.

"How do you feel about taking off your clothes in front of others?" I asked my sister.

"Not...comfortable," she replied.

"Why not?" I pressed.

"Because...can't show...other people...shameful," Grace slowly explained.

"Yeah, that's right, but why is it considered shameful?" I said, choosing to latch onto that as a starting point. "We wear clothes in order to not be a distraction to other people, so that we can be functioning member of society. Isn't that right?"

Grace hesitated to respond, her glazed over eyes giving no hint as to what was going on within her mind. "...Yes," she belatedly said, accepting the reasoning I had laid out for her.

"However, what did Adam and Eve wear in the Garden of Eden, before they were tempted into eating the fruit of knowledge?" I asked, trying to lead her in the direction I wanted her to go.

"...No clothes," Grace answered, remembering her Sunday school lessons.

"That's right," I confirmed. "They only started covering themselves after eating the fruit and gaining knowledge of sin. After losing their innocence."

"...Yes," Grace agreed.

I smiled, knowing that I was pulling her in the direction I wanted her to go in. "If Adam and Eve, the first humans, were at their most innocent, their most free of sin, when they were naked, doesn't the same apply to us?"

Grace blinked slowly. "...Yes."

"Exactly," I said. "In public you wear clothes to be part of society, but in private, when there is no watching you except God and those you love and trust, you should go nude to show your innocence."

"...um," Grace responded with a long, slow blink. Watching her, I somehow knew that I was losing her, that I had gone half a step too far.

"You don't need to go all the way now," I hastily added. "Just take off whatever you are comfortable with and over time work your way up to going without any clothes."

"...OK," Grace said. She blinked again, her eyes regaining their light this time. She smiled at me as she let go of the cross.

"Wow, dropping another nugget of wisdom on me, aren't you?" she asked rhetorically as she stood up. Once she was on her feet she looked down at herself, a frown on her face.

With hesitant hands she reached for the bottom edge of her shirt before she moved with swift finality, lifting the white, sweat soaked garment up and over her head. She had a grey sports bra on underneath, hiding those perky little tits that had filled my dreams.

She spun the shirt tight around one of her fists as gave herself another look. She glanced at me, trying to decide she how much she was comfortable taking off, or least I guessed she was doing that. Her free hand drifted to her sports bra and I tried to hide my excitement that she would remove it.

But Grace shook her head, her hand instead moving to her athletic shorts. She hooked a thumb through the waistband and began jerking the garment down her thighs. It was awkward going with only one free hand, but she worked the shorts down until she could step out of them.

"Whoa," she let out, standing in the middle of the living room wearing only her sports bra, black panties, and a pair of tennis shoes. "This..." she said before taking a deep breath. "I think you're right, Seth. This feels so...liberating."

I sat on the couch, staring wide eyed at my sister's body. She wasn't naked, but the fact that I wasn't looking at her through a gap in a door jam made the effect not dissimilar to when I was spying on her the previous night.

Grace looked down at me, a teasing eyebrow raised. "Come on, Seth," she said.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't be a hypocrite," she replied. She held up her shirt, clearly meaning for it to be an example for me.

"Oh," I said, not expecting my rhetoric to be flipped back on me. I pulled off my shirt, exposing my bare chest.

Grace looked at me, still in my shorts, then at herself in her underwear. "I guess we each go at our own pace," she commented.

She turned around and started walking to the bedrooms. "At least this will cut down on laundry," she said, lifting her sweaty shirt over her head. "I'm going to take a quick shower, then we can go grab lunch."

I only half paid attention to her words, as I was busy watching the way that her ass cheeks jiggled as she walked. Once she was around the corner and out of my sight, I found myself wondering how she was seeing all this

***

Grace

When had my little brother become so dang wise? I had finished my shower and was now standing alone and nude in the middle of my bedroom, pondering that question. Seth and I had been close as children, as neither of our parents really understood us. Mom tried her hardest, in fairness to her, but my brother and I often felt that we could only trust each other with our insecurities and dreams. Seth and I had been each other's best and biggest supporters, up to and including when I made the decision to move out of our hometown for college.

But now I was being blindsided by Seth's displays of visionary wisdom, and I couldn't help but wonder when he had become so impressive. Don't take this the wrong way, because I love my brother, but Seth was never the most outstanding of individuals when we were growing up. He was plain looking, not ugly, but not some handsome heartthrob either. Neither was he particularly athletic, and he was far from a social butterfly. The one thing he had going for him was that he was pretty dang smart, but he was so timid that his intellect had a hard time shining through to other people.

Yet here he was, having twice in as many days spoken words of wisdom that rang so true that they wormed their way into my brain and changed my worldview like it was something I should have known all along. The fact that he had grown so much while I wasn't looking, it made feel like I had failed him as an older sister.

I looked down at my naked self. Without my clothes I was at my most innocent, most without sin. Yet I still felt this heaviness in my heart, so I could only conclude that I had failed him and that the guilt was so great that I felt it even in this state. I had to make it up to him. I had to be the best older sister I could be for him.

I looked at my bedroom door, firmly locked against intrusion. Old hang ups still had a grip on me, I was hesitant to show more skin to my brother than a typical bikini would. A good sister would support her little brother and show that she had embraced his sage teachings.

With a deep breath I reached for the door knob, intending to walk out there in my full glory and show Seth that I was willing to share my innocence with him. But I hesitated.

"Damn it," I muttered, slapping my thigh as I would during a volleyball game when I messed up a simple play.

I still wasn't ready to give my all to support my little brother, and that realization stung more than the red mark I had left on my leg.

I looked down at my naked form once again. There had to be something I could do to get myself to the point where I would be comfortable with Seth seeing me like this. My first thought was that I might pretty myself up, like I would before a first date. But I quickly realized that there was only so far I could go with that. It wasn't like I could put make up on my tits and act like it changed anything. Looking over myself, I came to the same critiques about my body I always have.

My boobs were small, their size at an awkward point between an A and B cup depending on the type of bra I was wearing. In some ways that was a blessing, and not just in that I was avoiding back and shoulder issues that some girls my own age were already experiencing. It was a boon in sports and athletics too, as they didn't get in the way, and I remember praying (without masturbating, oh, what a fool I had been) for my chest to not grow after seeing one of my high school teammates have to quit after her boobs had grown to the point of causing her pain every time she jumped.

On the other hand, it's undeniable that many men won't look at a small chested woman twice, and when I was young it sometimes led to teasing and bullying.

"God must have skipped over your boobs and gone straight for your legs," I remember an old bully of mine taunting. I towered over her even before I got my first training bra.

Neither would I want to think about the number of times I wanted to buy a cute dress or top but couldn't. There are just some looks you can't pull off if you don't have big enough boobs to fill out whatever you're wearing.

Then there was my height, a way above average six foot one. Much like my tiny breasts, it was a boon for sports, as my size was one of the main reasons that I was any good at volleyball. It also meant that I had long legs that I was quite proud of, keeping them well shaven and often showing them off with shorts or skirts.

At the same time however, it made dating a hassle at times. Many men don't like being in a relationship with someone taller than themselves, and feeling undesirable because of something I couldn't change hurt my self esteem growing up.

The last thing I took notice of was my public hair. I've never had a particularly thick bush, and since I'm blonde some of the lighter hairs tend to blend in with my pale skin, so even when I've let it grow out it never looked too unruly.

Still, in the couple of relationships I've had that went as far as sex, I found that I didn't feel comfortable in the bedroom unless I groomed down there. Shaving everything irritated my skin, but I would make the effort to keep my pubes trimmed into a neat triangle above my pussy.

That wasn't at all what I had at the moment, though. I had broken up with my last boyfriend nearly six months prior, and since I hadn't been looking to date during a busy semester I had let my pubic hair grow out. The idea of letting any man see me with that untamed bush was disconcerting to me, so I resolved that the first step towards revealing myself to Seth would be getting my pubes trimmed down to proper size.

For a brief moment the implications of doing for my brother what I would have once only done for a long-term boyfriend crossed my mind. I pushed that thought away, however, and instead focused on trying to be the best sister I could be.

However, at that moment being a good sister didn't mean grooming my pussy. I was supposed to take Seth out for lunch and here I was, standing alone in my bedroom thinking to myself for God knows how long. The best thing I could do in that moment was to hurry up and get ready to go out.