**All character's in this story are 18 years of age or older. This story includes incest, explicit lgbtq theming, some softdom and sub dynamics, and anal fingering**
Papa was yelling at Michael this morning over breakfast because of his costume. Apparently Michael lost a bet with his friends and had to dress up in one of those cheap 'Sexy Nurse' outfits, but that didn't seem to matter much to Papa. Micheal looked a little silly to be honest. He was always kind of lanky, but his legs were nice... and also shaved? He was always enthusiastic about whatever he did, so I guess this is just part of that go-getter attitude of his. I tried to step in before Papa's face got any redder saying, "I know right! That outfit looks terrible on you, bro. Don't worry, Papa! I'll help him get ready!"
I shined the most annoying smile you could imagine and pushed my brother into the hallway and we scuttled to my rooms without Michael saying anything. When we got to my room Michael was already crying. I wasn't ready for this, but I played big sister and acted pointedly casual. I took the dinky little nurse hat off of his head and ruined the microfiber cloth I used for my glasses rushing to wipe his face. Scrambling to figure out what to say I awkwardly hit him on the shoulder with a, "Hey champ, what's going on?"
He looked legitimately confused, "Champ? What?"
"Uh, I mean like, what's wrong? You don't usually let dad get to you when he gets shitty about something stupid."
He was staring at the ground, widening his eyes as wide as they'd go. I don't think that really works to stop someone from crying, but he seemed to be calming down somewhat. After a couple of deep breaths he said it wasn't anything important. This was clearly not true, but I had to figure out the safest way to prod him, but I couldn't think of how to broach the subject. I tried leaning in on the awkward vibe and said, "Well, uh, champ, what about your costume? How are you gonna go through the trouble of shaving your legs just to wear something so cheap?"
He froze for a moment, before nervously rubbing the back of his neck. I thought he would at least say something. Maybe it was worse than I thought. Maybe he really didn't want to wear the costume. I took a wild swing and asked, "Are you being bullied?"
"Huh? Oh no, it really was just a bet with my friends. You know the guys good enough to know that's not it," he said sitting down on my bed.
"Well I don't know what to say, because you aren't telling me anything. I know I can be a little clumsy when it comes to stuff like this, but you know you can trust me to at least try, right?"
"Yeah," he smiled like he said something funny, "You've always been pretty clumsy."
"I meant about emotional stuff!"
"I know what you meant, sorry. I'm just nervous."
"Don't be nervous, Champ! You can tell me anything!" I wish I could stop saying 'Champ,' Jesus Christ. Micheal seemed to gloss over it though.
"I can? Well, like I said, I really did lose the bet, but they didn't make me shave my legs. That was my idea."
"Oh yeah? Wanted to give it your all, huh?"
"Well... I think that. I think that I really just wanted an excuse to try it."
"Shaving your legs?"
"Yeah, I know some guys can get away with it because they swim or whatever, but I figured if I tried it, I would just get shit from everyone. Halloween kind of gave me a reason, I guess."
"Plausible deniability,"
"Yeah,"
"Well I think you'll be fine once you get out of the house,"
"Yeah, I can't wait to move out," he looked like he was going to cry again. He opened up already so maybe I could be more straightforward about comforting him? I risked hugging him and he hugged back really tightly. At this point I was bent over like a shrimp and tried to finesse a way into sitting down beside him without seeming like I'm trying to leave the hug. I was still kind of wrenched into facing him, but I could at least stroke the back of his head without worrying about falling over.
"I meant for school this morning," I said as I held him. He nodded into my shoulder and I just sat there. I cooed and hummed like a mother, or at least how I'd like to imagine I would be as a mother. I don't know if it was anything especially comforting for him, but it made me feel like I knew what I was doing.
"Is it weird that I want to shave my legs?"
"No."
"Is it weird that I want to wear this costume?"
"No, it's Halloween. A lot of people are wearing costumes."
"What if I wore it outside of halloween?"
"That would be weird. With legs like yours, you should wear a nice enough dress so people won't be distracted by that big 'Party City' badge sewn onto the pocket." That made him dart up and now he was staring at me, like 3 inches from my face. I could feel breath crawl up the bridge of my nose. He was taller than me, but was so hunched over from crying that he was looking up at me for the first time in several years.
"I should wearing a prettier dress?"
"I mean, if that's what you want to do!" This conversation was kind of getting away from me. I don't think Micheal is gay. We both knew this trans girl in highschool before she dropped out, but she said she knew she was a girl by like, third grade. Shit, did I ever say anything bad to Micheal about trans people? I don't remember anything like that, but I might have. I mean, not to assume that he's trans. I mean maybe I should ask? That's a big question. If I was wrong, how bad would this make this? If I pretend it didn't cross my mind, would I be being dismissive? Maybe I really should--
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that, Sis."
His voice shook me out of the death spiral and I said, "No! No! I just was trying to figure out what to say! There's just a lot of ways this conversation could go and I don't want to like, make huge, wrong assumptions about you or anything. I don't want to fuck up and make you think you can't talk to me about anything!"
"Can you help me dress up tomorrow?"
"Of course! My skirts might be a little short on you, so I hope you don't mind looking a little sexy, haha." Micheal blushed deeply and squeezed me one last time before getting up and leaving my room. I got up and went into the hallways and watched his head dart around like a lizard's looking for dad before sprinting for the door as his skirt hiked around his ass. I laughed obnoxiously loud at the orange panties that had 'Bad Bitch' written in pink.
-- -- --
It's been six weeks since I first dressed Micheal up and they have been getting me to help them every weekend. We would go drive to the city and walk around together or with their friend Jason. Jason was super sweet about the situation, but also worse than I was about saying something stupid or weird. Micheal could pick out their own clothes, but they were such a baby about doing make-up, so I had to learn how to do eyeliner on someone who writhed and bitched the whole time. I was never super into fashion, but they constantly asked my opinion on things, so I wound up following fashion accounts on social media and reading listicles to pretend like me and my friends talked about anything besides softball and whatever dumb shit our friend Megan did most recently.
Micheal's been shaving their legs under the context of it being 'too itchy' to let it grow out, which annoys Papa but seems to work as an excuse. I was right about my skirts being too short on Micheal, but they don't seem to mind. They've also been dressing me up too. It kind of makes me feel like a big Barbie, but it's kind of fun. At first they would make suggestions and then leave the room, but as we got more comfortable, we would change in front of each other and make weird comments about each other's bodies. Micheal had a weirdly plump ass. They would always have on underwear, but the panties didn't hide the general shape of things, and the narrow gussets would sometimes have part of their dick peeking out like a cartoon character trying to hide behind a telephone pole. They recently picked up running because apparently the anxiety of this being a secret to only them was why they used to never eat. They got a little pudgy and panicked about not being able to fit in my clothes. I tried to tell them a bit of belly fat made them look cuter and they seemed to short circuit.
They were staring at my titties one day when I was just wearing my bra, and I suddenly felt really self-conscious. I mean they had stolen looks at them before, but I didn't really think much of it. I was kind of pale so my embarrassment just deepened the redness on my chest and face in a way that kind of fed into itself. "You can grow your own you know," I said trying to take control of the situation in the stupidest manner possible. They just laughed and told me that I was beautiful. I didn't know what to say so I just pushed them a little too hard and laughed. They were wearing this pink cotton skirt that we bought for both of us. I never really wore skirts casually like that, but I wanted to support them and kind of got into the consciously girly attitude myself. It was a comfortable one, but thin. I could see the shape of their legs from the way it fell between them. I could see the outline of their genitals, which, according to this particular skirt, were hanging out of their panties. I dragged my eyes across their whole body. Micheal hadn't finished getting dressed, so the only thing besides their skirt was a thin white camisole that was tight over their body. A little bit of belly showed as they laid on my bed.
Half a minute went by before I realized I had been looking at them like a creeper. They weren't saying anything but it looked like their face was redder than mine. I apologized for pushing them and they replied, "You can keep looking if you want." They still hadn't moved. I was mumbling about how that wasn't necessary as I looked at their neck. It was still so thin. I never really noticed how thin their neck was. I know what would suit them. I ran over to my drawer and pulled out a wide black silk ribbon. I rushed to them saying, "Hold on, I got it!"
"Got what? Oh fuck your knee just went into my ribs!"
They complained but I was already lifting up their head and pulling their hair behind the ribbon. I tied it snug, but hopefully not too tightly, around their neck in a bow. They looked just like a present. They were fingering the impromptu choking and I slapped their hand away. "Quit it! You look so cute like that, don't fuck it up!"
"Could you get up?"
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, haha. Sudden Inspiration." I had been sitting on their belly in my underwear without even thinking. I got up off of them and looked back to see they had sat up and hunched over. "Hey could you lay back down? You had this kind of modern, princessy vibe with the way your hair was spread out. It looks really good long by the way."
"Sure, but don't freak out."
"Why would I freak out?"
"Well, uh, I got a little hard while you were tying this ribbon."
"Oh. Oh! Yeah, that's just like a physical response, haha. You didn't do anything, haha."
"I feel like you're freaking out. I'm sorry, but it'll go away in a second."
"No! I just. I guess I thought you were gay? I mean queer. I mean, uh, I mean that you liked men?"
"I don't but it's fun that you are somehow more embarrassed right now."
"Well I've always been clumsy, haha... ha."
I sat on the bed at their feet and kind of slumped in defeat. I didn't want to look at them for fear of making this somehow more awkward. They started poking my thigh with their toes. Their calves were so smooth. They said I could keep looking right? I looked up and they were still laying back, with one hand on their lap. It looks like they tucked it under the band of their panties. Their hand covered some of it, but the thicker material at the top of the skirt didn't hide as much as I think they were planning on. It was dangerously close to being outside of the skirt. The very top of the band was raised. They said I could look right?
"You're so pretty, Sis."
That startled me, but I squeaked out a "you're pretty too, baby." I know how it sounds, but I'd been calling them that in a jokey sort of way ever since this dude hit on us at a cafe. He called Micheal baby and I say a confused mixture of joy and discomfort dance across their face, so I teased them a bit on the way home.
"I like it when you call me baby," he said gently, "it reminds me of Mom."
"I miss Mom too," but I was still staring at the way their hand cupped over their skirt. I was looking up at them every now and then to make sure they weren't uncomfortable. Every time our eyes met they just smiled. The subtle movements in their neck flex the bow I'd tied. Their camisole was riding up the torso. I was getting wet. This last realization kind of scared me, but I liked that too. I don't think I've ever really thought of them in this way, but so much has changed. I asked them in a voice I nearly hoped was too quiet to hear, "You said I can look right?"
"Yeah."
