Danny buried his face in his hands. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck shit fuck!"
"Now, nowâthere's no need for such foul language, young man."
Danny pulled his hands down his face just enough to see Adam smirking at him from the recliner, arms crossed behind his stupid, fat head. Danny gave the controller he'd dropped to the floor a kick, groaning as his mind raced with every god awful thing Adam was going to make him do. Scrubbing the bathroom with a toothbrush, doing mountains of laundry, cooking every meal, going out and getting anything and everything Adam's black little heart desired for the next two weeks.
Adam slapped Danny's back as he stood, heading towards the door while singing, "I'll be riiiight back."
Danny sank further back into the couch. Fuck, he was so stupidâbut there was no way he could've known that Adam of all people would be an absolute savage at Smash Bros. If he'd had even an inkling, he never would have agreed to the wager, but despite Danny's mom having married Adam's dad nearly five years ago, Danny still didn't know Adam all that well. Almost immediately after the wedding Adam had gone off to college, spending summers in-between working as a lifeguard and more or less living with his ex-girlfriend.
After graduating, Adam moved back home to save up for his big backpacking trip, and he and Danny were under the same roof on a regular basis for the first time. Adam was, at best, inconsiderate and abrasive. At worst, he was a fucking terror, and now with their parents on a two week cruise in the Bahamas, there was no buffer between the step-brothers to keep things from escalating. Danny leaned back, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He was so stupid.
Something soft landed in Danny's lap, and he looked down to see a pile of clothing, frowning as he picked up a piece of pale pink cloth. His expression immediately morphed into a look of abject horror when he realized he was holding up a tiny pleated skirt. He dropped it like it was on fire. "What the hell is this?!"
"Your new uniform," Adam said simply, grinning from where he stood in front of Danny, huge arms crossed.
In his lap there was a small white t-shirt, and a matching set of a lacy pink bra and panties. Danny gaped, jumping up and flinging everything onto the floor. "Where did you even get these, you freak!"
"They were Steph's," Adam shrugged. "She doesn't want them back, trust me. They'll definitely fit you, though, I mean...you're small enough."
Adam gave him a blatant once-over, and Danny's cheeks flushed. Danny definitely took after his mom, with dark blond hair that never liked to do as it was told, petite and narrow from his legs to his wrists to the delicate curve of his jaw. Long eyelashes to frame bright blue eyes, a pouty pink mouth. The opposite of Adam, who was nearly the spitting image of his father, all dark hair and trimmed beard. Broad shoulders tapering down to a slim waist, thick, long legs, olive skin that went on for days along his toned arms. Back in high school, when Danny was a freshman and Adam a senior, girls flocked after himâa true jock who captained his lacrosse team to a state championship. Because of that, Adam could get away with murder, and it had always made Danny sick with jealously, even now.
"We made a bet, Daniel," Adam said. "You do whatever I want until dad and Paula get home. And I want you to put these on."
"I don't care about some stupid bet anymore!" Danny shouted. "I'll do whateverâclean, cook, buy you beerâbut I'm not gonna humiliate myself forâ"
"You are," Adam cut him off, and shoved Danny hard enough that he fell flailing back into the sofa. "Put them on."
Danny stared up at him, lips opening and shutting like a fish. Adam was bigger. Adam was stronger. Adam could make Danny do whatever he wanted, bet or no bet. He swallowed thickly, and nodded, reaching down to pick up the fallen clothes. He winced, feeling the lacy bra in his hands. "Evenâ?"
"Everything here, you put on," Adam said, voice firm. Danny's cheeks grew even hotter, sitting and looking up at Adam who stood over him, thick arms crossed.
"Can I at least do it in private?" Danny snapped.
Adam rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll be in the kitchenâcome get me when you're done."
Adam walked out of the den, his footsteps padding down the hall as Danny looked back to the clothes, pulse hammering. He was really gonna have to do this, wasn't he? He was going to have to dress like this for the next two fucking weeks. His throat tightened, eyes clenched shut as he stood there, stock-still for a beat.
He shucked off his t-shirt, then his shorts and boxer briefs in one go, standing naked naked as he glared down at the dainty bra on the ottoman. Trying to latch it from behind was uselessâhe ended up hooking it first and then just pulling it on, the thin lace cups gaping with nothing to fill them.
He squirmed, adjusting the strapsâit was incredibly weird and uncomfortable, but he slid the shirt on over it, remembering Adam's threat. It came down in a low scoop that nearly showed the top of the lace trim, and Danny's gut clenched, entire body hot. His hands trembled as he pulled the skirt upâfuck, it fit perfectly as he zipped it up. Adam had been right.
He stared at the panties laying on the couch cushion. He stared at them for a good long moment, heart wailing against his chest before he picked them up, stepping through each leg hole carefully and slowly pulling them all the way on. He adjusted himself the best he could, a bit too snug but more or less it fit.
Danny stared down at the bulge of the pink panties, little bow on the front. He dragged a careful fingertip over the lace, familiar fluttering in his stomach. He gulped, eyes shutting, trying to get a hold of himselfâhe was not going to get a fucking hardon in these panties. No. Absolutely not.
Above the sofa there was a long decorative mirror in an elaborate gold frameâhis mom's touch to an otherwise "drab room," as she called it. He stood on the ottoman to look at himself, his face deep red in the reflection. The shirt looked awkward, and would unless he stuffed the bra, but the skirt cinched his waist just so, giving him a slim but distinctly feminine appearance. From a distance, it would be easy to mistake him for a girl, even with short hair. Danny was breathing harder now as he lifted the hem of the skirt andâ
He dropped it immediately; his cock was stirring against the lace. He stepped down off of the ottoman and stumbled, having to brace his hand on the door frame, collecting himself. He could do this, he told himself. He could do this, and more than thatâhe had to. He didn't have a choice.
-
When he walked into the kitchen, Adam was drinking right out of the OJ carton, leaning against the island in his basketball shorts and sleeveless muscle shirt. He took on last gulp as he saw Danny standing awkwardly by the coffeemaker, his eyes half lidded and intent in the sunny kitchen. He put the carton down, licking his lips and kicking the fridge door shut. Danny had expected outright mocking from the get go, so Adam blatantly checking him out was throwing him as he tried to stand in a way that wouldn't reveal his half-hard cock.
"Well, don't you look nice for the eighth grade dance," Adam finally said.