Sow to My Sister

Disclaimer: All characters are over the age of 18. Any resemblance to actual persons is strictly a coincidence.

My name is Juliet, and I have a story to tell. Some might find it a bit disturbing, but try to understand; If I don't tell you, no one will ever know.

My sister and I were never close. I am two years older than her and was way better looking. I was the one who was always out with the hottest guy on the football team or just out in general.

My sister, Megan, on the other hand, was somewhat lacking in the looks department. Although she made up for it with a sharp wit and a gaggle of friends, she never had too much luck in the dating game.

Even though I was only able to get into a local college, I was able to land the best job I could have, on looks alone. Megan was accepted into just about every school she applied to, but chose MIT for their chemistry department.

What irked her more than anything else was the fact that my job as a personal assistant paid almost the same as hers, even though she needed a doctorate to get it. I landed mine with a measly associate in absolutely nothing.

She was the head of her department at a local laboratory that produced the very products I used to keep my youthful appearance. I always thought that was ludicrous, but there it was.

As might be expected, I married young and to a guy that everybody had warned me about. It was good for a while, but as things rolled along, I soon needed to find distraction elsewhere. I cheated.

Worse yet, I cheated, and got caught. When my husband discovered me in bed with one of his closest friends, that was it. He threw me out on my ear. Without anywhere to go, I tried to move back with my parents. They were less than sympathetic, having learned of my infidelity from none other than my sister, whom I had told in the strictest confidence.

Without any options, and barely a week's pay to my name, I begged my sister to let me stay with her.

"I can't believe you actually had the nerve to call me, Juliet. I mean, you can't seriously be thinking I would allow you to stay here." Megan prodded, knowing my situation.

"Megan, please. I'm virtually on the street, here." I explained. I wasn't really. I was holed up in a Motel 6, but the conditions there were atrocious. Finding an apartment was out of the question. There was a waiting list a mile long to get into anything I might be able to afford.

"What if I told you, yes, but with a very specific set of rules? Would you still need it so desperately?" Megan asked.

"Megan? I'll do anything. Just give me a roof over my head for a few months so I can get on my feet." I pleaded.

I couldn't believe she actually said yes. I hopped in my pretentious, albeit used Lexus, and was at her door in less than an hour. She opened the door after making me wait a good five minutes on the stoop, my two designer suitcases on either side of me.

"Juliet. That was fast." Megan accused, stepping aside to allow me to drag the bags in behind me. She'd gained a few pounds since I'd seen her last, but was far from fat. Her hair was short and styled, as it always had been and she looked typically frumpy.

"Thank you for letting me stay." I sighed.

"Don't thank me yet, Sis. You haven't heard the terms of the arrangement." Megan reminded me. "Why don't you leave your bags packed and come out to the kitchen."

Her house was a standard split-level suburban home, and the kitchen and dinette stood above an elevated den, with the necessary fireplace. The only thing was it was far from being in the suburbs. In fact, the nearest house was a good half-mile down the road.

Megan had obviously been working on something, and she had me sit opposite her at the four-seater oak table. "Here are my rules, Juliet."

I took the typewritten page, obviously something she had been working on for a few days, not since we had spoken on the phone.

Juliet's Rules and Responsibilities:

1. Housemaid. You are going to be my housemaid. I expect you to spend at

at least two hours per day cleaning my home. I want it spotless, and I'm a

bit of a slob.

2. You will also be responsible for maintaining my gardens and the three

acres of lawn I keep.

3. The balance of your time will be spent doing the same for my elderly

Neighbor.

I stopped reading at that point, wondering if she had lost her mind. "Megan? You can't be serious. What about my job?" I looked for some sign she was pulling my leg, but there was none.

"Oh, I expect you'll have to quit. There's no way you're going to be able to do both." Megan explained, deadly serious.

I stood, thinking I would simply walk out. This was preposterous. What did she think I was, some sort of slave? "I'm glad you saved me the trouble of unpacking, Megan."

"I won't be making this offer again, Juliet. Make certain you are choosing wisely." Megan chuckled, knowing full well I had no intention of following her 'rules'.

I grabbed my bags and opened the front door to a disheartening sight. My Lexus was nowhere to be seen. "Where's my car?" I screamed.

"Did you leave the keys in it?" Megan asked, almost ominously.

"I might have. I had my hands full, you know." I grumbled.

"Oh, those Hanley boys. They probably took it for a joyride." Megan laughed.

"They stole my car!" I yelled, standing on the porch and stomping my feet.

"You want me to call the police?" She asked.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble." I seethed, slipping back through the door.

Four hours later, and nearly one in the morning, my cell phone rang. "Are you Juliet Meyers?" A young male voice inquired.

"Yes. Did you find my car?" I asked, frantically.

"Well, yes, we found it. I doubt you'll be driving it anytime soon though." The officer explained. "It was burned out along Skinner Road. I'm afraid it's a total loss."

I hung up the phone, knowing all too well that my insurance had expired a week before. My husband had always taken care of those things, and I had forgotten to take care of it. I hung up the phone, not knowing what to do next.

"Did they find it?" A voice called from upstairs.

"Sort of. Totaled." I sighed.

"Well, try and get some sleep, and we'll talk more about things in the morning." Megan comforted.

I did my best to sleep on the sofa, it being too late to get settled, not that I had any intention of doing that anyway. Megan woke me up early and handed me a cup of coffee.

"I suggest you read through those rules, Sis, seeing as you might be here a while." Megan indicated the sheet of paper still sitting here I had tossed it.

"Can't you give me a ride into the city, I..."

"No can do, Juliet. The lab is in the opposite direction. I'm afraid you're stuck here for a while." And with that, she disappeared out the door, the crackle of stones in the driveway the last I heard of her for the day. I eyed the insidious paper, deciding to read it for lack of anything else to do.

Rules:

1. You will work in the provided uniforms, which will be provided. A maid's livery for inside, and a one-piece coverall for the garden. You will have no need for street clothing.

2. Your appearance will be of my choosing, but I expect neat and tidy.

3. You will eat what I make for you, without question.

4. No men will be allowed on the premises

5. No masturbation

I had a little chuckle over the absurdity of her little game. How could she possibly expect me to comply with these ridiculous things? The last rule caught me off guard as I frequently got myself off. I caught myself imagining how I might circumvent the rules. "Don't be stupid, Juliet." I chided myself out loud.

It was about three in the afternoon when my phone rang. I had completely forgotten to call my employer.

"Juliet! Where the hell have you been?" My boss yelled into the phone, causing me to pull mine away from my ear. "You knew I had that meeting today!"

"I'm at my sister's. It's out in the country. Someone stole my car and burned it out." I explained.

"Well, that's one I haven't heard before. Juliet, I'm really tired of the excuses, every time you fail to show up for work. I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go." He decided, gruffly.

"But, Steven..."

"I can't, Juliet. You're fired." The click on the other end of the line was enough to make me nauseous. I had no car, no job, and, oh my God! I looked back at the sheet and suddenly realized the awful truth. My sister had me right where she wanted me.

A few hours later, Megan's car pulled into the driveway. She seemed a bit surprised to see me, as if I might have found some way to escape her isolated property. "You're still here?"

"I got fired." I hissed. I looked over at her, and I swore I saw the slightest hint of a smirk on her face. She set down her bag and came to sit across from me at the table.

"Well, I guess that settles it then." She tacked the set of rules on the cork bulletin board behind the counter and turned. "All you have to do is nod, Jules."

I fought it with every ounce of willpower I had, but my options were so ridiculously limited, that I had no choice but to agree to her terms.

"Excellent. I think this is going to be good for you, Juliet. I know it will be good for me, anyway." She led me down the stairs and around the corner into the small basement. I was surprised to find a rather spartan bedroom set up at one end of the unfinished space.

Hanging on a small rack along the concrete wall were two black and white uniforms, the sort you might see in a period drama. Next to those were two sets of army green coveralls. "Why don't you try on the uniform, just to see if it fits?"

Self-consciously, I stripped out of the clothes I'd been wearing for two days, almost thankful to be out of them. She watched as I donned the humiliating livery, feeling my will slip away with each button I fastened. "Seems to fit."

"I'll throw your clothes in the wash for you. In fact, why don't you stay here, while I see to the rest of your things." Megan disappeared up the stairs, closing the door behind her. Seeing as I would be there for at least a few days, I decided to relax.

Strangely, I thought I sensed some kindness in her voice and was pleased that she would be bringing my suitcases down to me. About thirty minutes passed before I wandered back up the stairs.

"Megan?" I called out, but no one answered. Wandering around, I chanced a look out the back window, finding my sister tending a smoldering pile of ash in a stone fire pit. Thinking it odd, I went looking for my bags, but they were conspicuously absent.

An awful thought shot through my mind, and I ran out to where my sister was tending the fire. My heart sank when I saw the telltale remains of my things, including my purse. "Megan! What are you doing!"

"You're not going anywhere now, oh sister of mine." She grinned, an evil glint in her eye.

I realized how precarious my situation truly was. Everything I owned, every piece of identification, everything, was now burned to a crisp, either in my car or there in that ring of stone. I stood there in that black and white suit, knowing that I had no way out.

After I had a good cry, which Megan allowed, I was ushered back up the stairs and forced to eat a very starchy meal. It was what she ate, and it was, apparently, what I would be eating too.

To be honest, the food tasted good, comfort food, in a way. I did worry what a continuous diet of the stuff would do to my slender physique. After supper, I learned it was my job to wash up, so that was where it all began. My first task as my sister's housemaid.

While Megan retired to the den to watch television, I cleaned. Once that was done, I was encouraged to go to bed. It was still only eight o'clock, but I dutifully obeyed, banishing myself to my room in the basement.

I hung up the livery and looked down at my underwear, shaking my head as I stripped out of those as well. I deposited my bra and panties on the floor and slipped under the covers quite naked. Was this how she wanted me to sleep? There was nothing else, so I supposed it was.

I suppressed the urge to masturbate easily, not being at all in a mood to enjoy anything. Instead, I slipped into a disturbed sleep of nightmares and depressing scenes of servitude.

I was awakened by an alarm clock, sealed in a small case, and inaccessible to me. I was forced to get up, and it was still only five-thirty. After a minute the alarm silenced itself. I looked for the bra and panties, but they had seemingly disappeared.

Puzzled, I put on the maid's livery, utterly naked underneath. I was painfully aware that my breasts were quite visible through the thin cotton top, and without panties, the skirt seemed dangerously short.

I was surprised to find my sister still in her pajamas, and it was almost six. "No work today?" I asked.

"Don't be silly, Juliet. It's Saturday." She chortled. "Besides, we have some errands to run, you and me."

"What errands?" I asked. "Hadn't I better get started on my chores?"

"Oh, you'll have time for those. Why don't you go throw on the coveralls so we can go into town." She suggested.

"Go into town, in those?" I asked, surprised.

"You best get used to being a Plain Jane, Juliet. Your days of being a glamorous city girl are through."

I tried to hide my face as I walked down the sidewalk of the small town. How weird it must have been to see this lovely blonde girl traipsing around in ill-fitting, shapeless coveralls.

Megan seemed to be in glory, finally getting the one up on me after all these years. Little was I to know why she was so bubbly. When we turned into a local barbershop, I was suddenly terrified.

My sister grabbed a number from a small rack near the door, and took a seat, insisting that I sit with her. All I wanted to do was run. I watched as each man called was stripped of what little hair they had, all seeming to end up with the same clippered style.

I looked over at Megan, who knew I was nervous. She devilishly pointed to a sign in the window, which I read backward through the paper.

$5 Crewcuts Every Saturday

From 9 AM to Noon

"Megan. You can't be serious." I complained, running a hand down the length of my waist-length curls.

"I told you; Neat and tidy." She grinned.

"Twenty-Seven!" The oldest of the barbers called out. He must have been eighty if he was a day. Megan reached into her purse and drew out a five-dollar bill, passing it to me along with the number, and pushed me out of my chair.

All eyes seemed to be on me as I made my way to the large swivel chair. What was I thinking? Why didn't I just run for the door? By the time I had reasoned out that I had no choice, the cape was already wrapped around my neck. Without thinking, I handed the number and the bill to the barber, who seemed to shrug it off as no great shakes. I wondered if he relieved young women of their hair all the time.

"You sure about this, miss?" He asked, finally giving me a reprieve.

"She's sure, Wilbur," Megan called out.

My sister having effectively silenced any objections I might have had, the barber grabbed his clippers and proceeded to sheer me like a sheep. I shuddered as I watched the figure in the mirror grow less and less feminine, the long blonde tendrils floating mercilessly to the checkered tile floor.

By the time he was finished, I was just another man. Between the coveralls, my oversized ears, and my squarish jaw which had always been tempered by my flowing tresses, I was nothing more than a dorky dude with a fresh knob job.

My jet white scalp shone through the microscopic stubble as though I was bald, and I swore my hair had been cut far shorter than any of the men before me. Perhaps it had.

I garnered far fewer looks from passersby as we made our way back to my sister's. I wondered if people actually took me for some scrawny guy with big ears, and a skinned-down skull. Probably.

Megan was so taken with my appearance, that she held her comments until we were well on our way out of town. Well, you certainly are U-G-L-Y now, Jules." Her drawn-out emphasis of the word only served to drive me deeper into whatever sewer I was in, emotionally.

"I look like a man." I sighed.

"Maybe, but you're the ugliest man I ever saw." Megan prodded, pulling into her driveway. "Well, ugly man, get to work." She demanded, pointing towards the garage.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. The lawn had been cut, by hand. She didn't own a riding mower. All the weeds had been pulled from the garden, and the car had been washed.

Before supper, I was allowed to shower in the open shower in the basement, which was apparently mine. The lack of privacy seemed to feed right into the continuous stream of humiliation I was enduring.

Without a towel and being told not to don the maid's livery while still wet, I was forced to come to the kitchen naked. This seemed to entertain Megan to no end. She couldn't help but point out how ridiculous my ample breasts seemed below so masculine a face.

"Well, at least you got some sun on that snow-dome of yours." Megan jabbed. "Won't be long before all that delicate skin is toughened up. Why on no time at all, you'll have a complexion like shoe leather."

I did my best to ignore her comments, as I downed the fat-laden starch that supper was comprised of. I did notice that Megan seemed to be eating a slightly different diet with more vegetables than mine. Potatoes, fatty meat, and beans seemed to be my daily fare and by the third week, it was starting to take a toll.

Even with all the work I was doing, I was still managing to sport a ring of fat around my middle. My breasts were more pendulous too. I didn't understand how, with all the work I was being forced to do. Surely, I should have been working off anything I was fed.

So, after a month, I was no longer able to fit into the maid's livery. Rather than wear the coveralls inside, Megan insisted that I do my housework naked. With no one around most days, this was actually more comfortable. Even the coveralls were starting to get tight.

One day, while Megan was at work, I noticed a scale that was tucked away in a closet. Obviously, it was no friend of Megan's, but I was almost frightened to see just how much weight I had put on. If I was to go by my appearance alone, it was going to be a lot.

"Two Hundred Fifteen!" I shouted. "Fuck!" I looked at myself in the mirror, more carefully this time. It was something I had deliberately avoided. My hair was now a fuzzy ball that only just concealed my scalp, but it was how I carried the weight that was so shocking. I looked like a huge pear-shaped blob. My face was chubby now, my square jaw showing the first signs of jowls hanging, and my breasts, my once lovely breasts hung flat against my bloated belly. My legs seemed to be the only thing not affected, and it only made things worse, like a beachball on stilts.

The following weekend, it was another humiliating trip to the barber, only in a different small town, just beyond the first. I filled out the coveralls now, my belly testing the fabric and the zipper that held it together.

As I followed Megan into the shop, no one looked. I was now just another ugly man there for his monthly skinning. I didn't question her when my sister barked out directions on how 'his' hair needed to be cut.

"Better take it right off, Mitch. He's been bugging me about shaving it down, so give him what he wants."