Boiling the Frog

"Bro, save me!" was the first thing James heard when he picked up the call from his sister.

"Good evening to you too, Sarah," James replied. "Save you from what? Or from who?"

"From me! Well, actually, save me from living under a bridge," Sarah continued. "I've got a new job in your city and need a place to crash until I find my own place. You have two bedrooms, don't you?"

"I have a bedroom and a home gym," James said. "When are you coming over? I'll need to move all this iron to storage and buy some furniture."

"In two days," Sarah replied.

"Fine. Do you need a pickup from the airport?"

"No, I'll be fine. See you soon!"

James spent the next two days dismantling his home gym and setting up a bed and wardrobe, promptly delivered by IKEA. Working from home can be a lot of fun sometimes, he thought to himself.

Sarah arrived in an Uber with two bags and found herself at the entrance of an upscale residential complex she hadn't expected to see.

"Bro, I'm so happy to see you!" Sarah exclaimed, throwing her arms around James's neck. "It's been ages! How nice to have a rich brother I can rely on! Is my doppelgänger Karina here? I want to hug her too!"

"I saw you at Christmas, that was just a month ago," James replied. "Little Miss Bipolar is gone for good. I don't think you'll ever see her again. Anyway, here's your room, freshly refurnished, with linens, towels. Let me know if you need anything."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What happened? I still remember when you brought her to meet the family, and we swapped clothes. Everyone talked to me like I was your girlfriend! That was so much fun! I'll miss her."

"Well, I won't," James quipped. "Sorry for your loss. After we came back from the Christmas with our family, she accused me of using her as a prop for some twisted fantasy and said I should just start fucking the real thing instead. No idea what she meant by that."

"That sounds weird indeed. Sorry it didn't work out, she was perfect for you," Sarah replied.

"I thought that too... Anyway, I'll leave you with your bags for now. Hope everything is fine here. I didn't have time to buy a proper bed, so for now you'll have to suffer on IKEA," James said.

"I won't stay long, I promise," Sarah replied. "I'll start looking for my own place tomorrow and hopefully be out of your hair in a few weeks."

"You can stay as long as you want," reassured her James. "At least it's some entertainment for my dull lonely lifestyle."

Searching for a place turned out to be a frustrating experience for Sarah. With her junior graphic designer salary, she could only afford either a tiny apartment hours away from work or a shared space with complete strangers, which she really didn't like. When Sarah vented her frustrations to James, he offered to let her stay at his place longer so she could save some money and get on her feet, especially since his downtown complex was just a 20-minute walk from her new job.

"You can chip in for groceries if you feel like it. I won't expect anything else. If you want to cook or clean sometimes, you're more than welcome to, but it's not required," James said, laying out the ground rules for their cohabitation.

"The only strict rule is no boyfriends or girlfriends in this apartment. That applies to both of us. It's easy for me since Karina's out of the picture, but it's even more important for you. No boyfriends, and I mean it."

"Okay, okay, geez," Sarah replied. "I don't have anyone anyway. Besides, I need to make a good impression, being new at this job, so I won't have time for dating."

"No suitable candidates at work?" James suggested jokingly.

"It's a design agency," Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure every guy there is gay except for one, and the remaining one, a photographer, has a penchant for models at least three times younger than him."

"Well, so it's sorted then," James concluded.

A couple of months later, after Sarah had settled into her new routine, she began feeling a bit lonely. Sure, James was there to chat and watch Netflix with, but she was mostly stuck between work and their shared apartment, and she missed some bedroom action. One evening, while browsing Amazon, she received a recommendation for a wearable vibrator. "That's some impressive analytics they have there," she thought to herself, before adding the toy to her wishlist. Two days later, she pulled the trigger and ordered it, shipping it to her work address to keep James from accidentally opening the package.

The vibrator was a penis-shaped silicone toy with a rotating head and protruding attachment meant to stimulate the clit. What really stood out was its clever design: it stayed securely in place once inserted, even when walking around. It came with a matching app that connected to a Wi-Fi network, letting her control it from almost any distance within range.

That same evening, she tried it out. It took some adjusting and getting used to, but when she slipped into the living room with the toy inside and cuddled up next to James on the sofa to rewatch episode of Game of Thrones, she couldn't help but think what a smart design it was.

James, a chief security officer at a large IT company, received an alert from his home firewall about an unknown MAC address on his wireless network. Before blocking it outright, curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to investigate. The unknown device was connecting to an address, lovetoys183.tencent.com.cn, sending packets that resembled communication with a control server. Intrigued, he Googled "lovetoys" and landed on the Chinese website of LoveToys Shenzhen Ltd., a company specializing in remote-controlled vibrators. It didn't take much to put two and two together and figure out what was happening. Still, his curiosity won out, so instead of blocking the device, he set up a firewall rule to capture all traffic to the Chinese servers.

The next day, while Sarah was at work, James decided to find the perpetrator. It was indeed the same toy he'd seen on the website. To confirm, he switched it on and observed a stream of data flowing to the same servers he'd identified the night before. Since Karina had abruptly left him a few months ago, his life had grown rather dull, and the opportunity to have some fun, even if at his sister's expense, was too tempting to resist.

Over the next few days, he captured all the traffic between the toy and the servers, spotting patterns that gave him an idea: instead of just monitoring it, he could write his own server application to take control of the toy. It proved to be a surprisingly simple task. After all, a remote-controlled vibrators aren't usually built with security as a top priority.

Sarah quickly became hooked on her new toy. After a couple of days of casual use, she started slipping it in as soon as she got home, keeping it inside all evening. She'd idly tweak the intensity and vibration patterns via the app while scrolling Instagram or watching another mindless TikTok challenge. The ability to spark an orgasm with just a tap of her fingers, no extra effort required, was intoxicating. Eventually, she began going to bed with toy still in place. Though she usually tried to take it out before falling asleep, sometimes it stayed until morning, when Sarah would turn it on to jolt herself awake for work.

James finished coding his replacement server late Friday night and decided it was time to try controlling the toy. He'd learned enough about the command exchanges to notice that the toy was on but idle when he redirected its traffic to his server. It kept pinging the server, waiting for instructions, as if nothing had changed. The moment of truth came when James sent a command to activate the vibrator, deliberately cranking it to maximum power. A loud moan erupted from Sarah's room, followed by a startled "What the fuck?!" before all communication cut off. Sarah had switched the vibrator off.

"Success!" James grinned. He was now in control of his sister's orgasms, and the idea struck him as both weird and exciting.

Diving deeper into reverse engineered protocol used to communicate with servers, James discovered few gaps in seemingly continuous number of commands and started experimenting while Sarah was at work. First he found a hidden microphone, which was not really surprising for a device coming from China, but then he figured out, almost by accident, that vibrator had a concealed speaker that would play whatever was sent from server. And he's got an idea how he can use it.

The next day, James added a few commands to the small keychain remote he used to control his home climate and lighting system, enabling it to activate Sarah's vibrator. He programmed a sequence into his keychain to trigger maximum power and run a predefined set of vibrations.

Sunday was takeaway night, and Sarah had ordered Thai food. Sitting across the table from James and eating noodles from a box, she had her vibrator in as usual, buzzing at a minimum power. She'd grown used to being stimulated for hours. When Sarah was halfway through her meal, trying to catch a particularly unruly noodle with chopsticks, James slipped his hand into his pocket and fumbled with something she could not see.

Sarah froze mid-bite, eyes widening in confusion as she tried to make sense of it. The vibration was far stronger than anything she'd used before, and there was sound, playing a so familiar melody and pulsing on and off in a rhythm that was unmistakably a default iPhone ringtone.

"Are you going to answer?" James asked, eyeing his sister with mock compassion. Sarah swallowed her noodles and bolted to the bathroom, stumbling with each "ring" of the toy, barely staying upright. Once inside, she yanked down her sweatpants and, in one swift move, pulled off her now-soaked panties along with the still-ringing vibrator. She turned it off and tossed both the toy and her underwear into the washing machine. At that moment, she was ready to strangle her brother.

"You! Was it you?" Sarah shouted, storming out of the bathroom. "Shut up! I know it was you!" she yelled, grabbing the box of her unfinished noodles and retreating to her room. She didn't come out that night, too embarrassed to face James.

Sarah left for work early Monday morning before James woke up, still not ready to face him. Though she felt embarrassed and a bit humiliated, she started to find humor in the ordeal. The more she reflected on it, the funnier it became.

When she returned home that evening, James was out to buy groceries for the week. The first thing Sarah did was check her toy. It was still sitting in the washing machine, but when she tried to switch it on, it showed no signs of life. She opened the app, only to see an "unable to connect" message.

When James walked into the apartment, arms full with grocery bags, he was greeted by a visibly furious Sarah standing beside the vibrator she'd placed on the kitchen counter.

"Make it work," she ordered sternly.

"Nope," James replied. "Not a chance."

"James! Please! I'm begging you! I need it," she pleaded, her tone shifting from commanding to desperate.

"Forget it, sis. This thing isn't going back on my network, and here's why. First off, no vibrator has any business connecting to servers in China, let alone sending audio it records there. Did you know it has a microphone that stays active whenever the toy's on? I'm not letting some creeps harvest my sister's masturbation patterns and moans. Who knows what they could do with that? Not to mention, hackers could use it to take over the whole network. But more importantly, it's not good for you." James paused, watching Sarah's face.

"What do you mean? It's a vibrator. Is the plastic toxic or something?"

"Well, I don't know about the plastic, but it's definitely toxic, for lack of a better word. Do you realize how much you've been using it?"

"Only a few times," Sarah said, her voice turning defensive. "That's none of your business, actually!"

"Thirty-four hours," James shot back. "The toy was active for 34 hours in one week, that's almost five hours a day! Every day! Are you insane? You know how people say TikTok's algorithm hooks you and metaphorically fries your brain with constant stimulation? This thing fries your brain LI-TE-RAL-LY" James emphasized his concerns. "Hell, can you even get off without it anymore?"

She knew she couldn't. After finding the toy dead, she'd spent nearly half an hour trying to masturbate in the shower and couldn't reach an orgasm.

"James, what do I do? I need it. You know I don't have a boyfriend. It was the only thing I had."

"You don't need it, sis," James replied. "Maybe try the real thing, you know? There's always one available nearby."

"Fine! I'll find a real thing!" Defeated, Sarah stormed off to her room, slamming the door behind her.

James picked up the vibrator from the counter and tossed it into a box of electronic devices he kept in the corner. Might be something worth hacking in there, he thought to himself.

For the next few days, Sarah experimented with masturbation, using her fingers, the showerhead, and even the corner of the bedframe, but nothing matched the addictive buzz of the toy she had lost. Over time, though, her craving for constant stimulation began to fade, and after a few days, she managed to bring herself to orgasm with simple, albeit lengthy, clit stimulation. James was right, she thought. That thing really did fry my brain.

But it was her brother's last words that kept echoing in her mind: "Maybe try the real thing, you know? There's always one available nearby." What did he mean by that? What "real thing" was always available nearby? Was he referring to himself? Was he actually suggesting his own penis?

The idea didn't disgust her as much as she expected. She found it rather intriguing and a bit exciting, but she had no idea how to approach him about it. What if she had misunderstood completely? What if he had misspoken, and she had gotten it all wrong? How could she bring it up without risking rejection or, worse, damaging their sibling bond and their living situation?

The late spring was warmer than usual, and Sarah discovered that the apartment complex pool had a swimming lane, a shallow and narrow 25-meter strip of water that no one seemed to use. It quickly became her new addiction. Swimming few kilometers every day after work helped her switch off her mind, tire herself out, and fall asleep much more easily. It also melted away quite a bit of the winter weight she had gained since Christmas. She had hoped to meet someone attractive at the pool, but it was mostly older people and children, leaving little opportunity to "find the real thing," as James had suggested. His words still lingered in her mind, impossible to shake.

Unsure how to safely navigate her predicament, Sarah turned to Google and discovered a whole new world of online pornography she was not aware of: incest. She focused mostly on brother-sister, or step-sister as it was often labeled, content, but it wasn't much help. According to the videos, all it took to sleep with your brother was to drop to your knees and start sucking him off, with no further effort required, never a rejection, never any consequences. "That would not likely work in a real life" she thought to herself fast-forwarding through seemingly endless supply of porn available online for free, making her wonder why incest-themed videos were dominating porn sites. "Maybe it not as uncommon as society makes us believe".

Frustrated, she created a throwaway Reddit account and posted a question on a pro-incest forum, only to be flooded with hundreds of private messages filled with crude fantasies and requests for "bobs and vagena" pics.

Amid the noise, one meaningful response stood out, a very well crafted message from a user Ilosa_98 who seemed to be female. The advice was to proceed cautiously and avoid any overt moves. Poster recommended to become what you want to be before actually becoming one, if you want to become a girlfriend, behave like a girlfriend, so he does not see you as a sister when the time comes to push it further. She used terms like "plausible deniability" and "boiling the frog," suggesting Sarah take it slow with subtle, gradual steps to show off her femininity and gauge her brother's reaction, get him accustomed to seeing her as object of desire, rather than a sister. If he didn't reciprocate, she could always claim her intentions were misread, that's was the "plausible deniability" part of the plan.

The "boil the frog" approach was straightforward enough. Sarah began exposing herself to James in subtle ways. Countless times she left the bedroom door ajar while she was changing, pretending she had forgotten to close it. Getting a morning coffee in a tight crop top and lace thong panties became a new normal. Sometimes, she stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel a bit too small for her body with nothing underneath and lounged on the sofa next to James like that for a couple of hours.

As the weather grew warmer, her oversized pajama shorts and crop top became her go-to home outfit. Typically, she wore no panties or bra underneath, showing off her long, toned legs and occasionally giving James a fleeting glimpse of her pubic hair through the opening of the shorts. His only reactions were a handful of confused looks, nothing more.

Sarah caught a few glances from James. Some seemed concerned, while others possibly intrigued, though she couldn't tell for sure. Nothing definitive came of it and she did not really know what could come out of it. It's not like her brother will lose his mind from desire one evening, rip her towel off and take her on the couch. That was how it is depicted in porn, it's not how it's happening in a real life.

She did not really know how to proceed, she could continue doing it for years and it would not be any different. Sarah tried message Ilosa_98 to ask for advice but account was already deleted, so she had to figure it out herself.

Worried she might be "undercooking the frog" and need to add a bit of heat, Sarah decided to take things a step further, and the perfect chance came up soon enough. All that daily swimming had done wonders for her figure, shaping her body into a classic hourglass form, but it had also changed her clothing size. One day, as she grabbed a drink in the kitchen before heading to the pool, James commented casually, "That swimsuit's looking a bit saggy. I bet it's dragging a lot of water when you swim." She tugged at the fabric around her waist, and sure enough, it was too loose. That was her signal to make her next move.

The next day at work, Sarah browsed a well-reputed swimsuit brand online, looking for something sexy yet not too revealing. One style caught her attention: an open-back, high-cut swimsuit with thin spaghetti straps over the shoulders. It was modest enough from the front but left her entire back exposed. She added the bright yellow version to her cart, but then she noticed the reviews for the white option.

Unlike the other colors, which earned glowing reviews and 4.5-star ratings, the white one had a 1-star rating. All comments repeated the same warning: it wasn't made for swimming. "Gorgeous when dry, completely transparent when wet. No padding anywhere. Accidentally flashed my extended family at a pool party. Do NOT recommend if you plan to go in the pool," one reviewer wrote. Another added, "It's basically lingerie masquerading as a swimsuit and there's no warning anywhere on the site. Wore it to a cruise pool and couldn't figure out why everyone was snapping pictures. Planning to sue the manufacturer." Perfect, Sarah thought with a sly smile, swapping the yellow for white in her cart. After a brief pause, she also changed the size from S to XS. Just in case I lose more weight, she told herself, though that wasn't the real reason.