Sib Games

It's more common than you'd imagine. And it's not from lack of trying, I can assure you. Quite the opposite.

I've had a lot on my mind, I guess.

Exams. Climate change. The heat death of the universe. Boys. One boy in particular, really, but we'll get to that later.

What I'm trying to say, in a round about way, is that the one thing I really needed, the one thing that might have helped make all the other problems bearable, is the one thing I couldn't have. Try as I might.

And, boy, did I try.

--

"It's time to accept it, my life is over."

"You're being dramatic," Tim laughed, "what's the big problem?"

That's my older brother, Tim. It's amazing the difference a few seconds can make. We're twins but you'd never guess it.

Sure, we've both got crazy blonde hair, but that's where the similarities end. Tim has the easy going attitude of a surfer dude and the body to match. Six-two and built like Adonis. The kind of guy all your girlfriends want to fuck. And don't they let me know it.

I'm five-two. Short and sweet. Neurotic, anxious, and just a tiny bit dramatic. Flat chested but a killer ass.

"What's the problem? I got ten thousand problems. I got little bitty mole hill problems."

Tim glanced around the bar, blushing, as I pointed to my modest chest, "Syke..."

"And I've got problems so big they make you wanna get swallowed by a black hole. That's problem number eight hundred and six. They're out there, you know, and they're fucking invisible!"

"You've got a lot of problems," Tim acknowledged, waving down the barman for another round.

"Correctamundo. So what I don't need is some admissions officer rejecting my scholarship. How am I going to afford university now?"

Tim slid a vodka and soda in front of me.

"Are you even listening," I cried, "I can't pay for that, you know?"

"Don't worry about it, kiddo. I got you. Something will come up. It always does."

--

Your chances of meeting a crazy person on the Northern Line are always pretty high. Those odds double after midnight.

It's one of the fun quirks of the London Underground.

You get used to it.

Even so, the businessman smiling unnervingly at us gave me the heebee-geebees. You NEVER smile at anyone on the underground. That's a rule. You can get banned for that shit.

"Madam, do you have a minute?"

Tim and I looked up and down the platform. There was only the businessman and us. Code red.

"We already support Cancer Research, bro," Tim cut in, "and a donkey in Botswana."

"He's lactose intolerant." I explained.

"It's not that," the businessman smiled, "I'd like to offer you a great opportunity."

"Really, dude, she's not interested."

"Madam, would you like to play a game with me?"

"Back off, man. I said she's not..."

Tim's words died off.

The businessman had opened his briefcase. Inside were three thick stacks of twenty pound notes.

"You've played chicken before, haven't you?"

I nodded.

"I will give you a thousand pounds each time you win."

"There's easier ways to get a girl to kiss you, dude."

"Not me," the businessman smiled at Tim, "you."

"I'm in a really bad mood today," I warned the businessman, "if this is some kind of stitch up, I'm probably going to throw you onto the tracks."

The businessman smiled.

"All we have to do is not pull away and we get a thousand pounds?"

The businessman nodded.

Tim and I glanced at each other.

"It's a lot of money."

"It would cover a term of tuition fees."

I really needed that money.

"Kind of weird though."

"It's just a game." I reasoned.

"But you're my sister."

My shoulders slumped.

"I guess it wouldn't be so bad." Tim weakened.

I looked at Tim. Was he suggesting what I thought he was suggesting.

"Just until the clock is up?"

"One minute." The businessman confirmed.

"A minute isn't so long..." Tim pondered.

But Tim was wrong. A lot can change in a minute.

--

Ten seconds. It's fine. A peck on the lips. Totally normal in France.

Twenty seconds. But we're not in France.

Thirty seconds. And that boy I mentioned earlier?

Forty seconds. Uhuh. You guessed it.

Fifty seconds. This was a dream come true.

Sixty seconds. I was kissing my crush.

--

"That's time."

The businessman handed me a wedge of notes. I flicked through the twenties then held one up to the light to check the watermark.

"It's the real deal."

"All we have to do is kiss again?" Tim asked, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

"This time with tongues."

"That wasn't the deal, man."

The businessman shrugged.

"Please, Tim." I begged, "I could really use this money."

He sighed.

"Okay then."

"Ready?"

"As I'll..."

I reached up on tip toes and planted another kiss on Tim's lips before he could change his mind. His mouth was half open, making it easy for my tongue to tentatively slip in.

My tummy somersaulted when I felt his tongue exploring mine. He was cautious to begin with but as the seconds dragged on it started to feel, sort of, not natural exactly, I was frenching my brother after, but, well, hot.

It was hot as fuck.

I'll admit it. I lost my cool.

My tongue did a full survey of my brother's mouth, twirling around his like we were dancing the salsa.

"Time."

Reluctantly I pulled away from my brother, wiping away the bridge of saliva that momentarily hung between our lips.

The businessman was smiling encouragingly. The little pervert was really getting his rocks off. And he wasn't the only one. I could feel a wet heat in my knickers as he handed me the second stack.

"What's next, creep?" I asked.

The businessman extracted the final stack of twenties from the suitcase.

"You kiss again, the same as before," the businessman said as he removed a false bottom from the briefcase to reveal four more stacks of twenties, "another grand for each minute you continue."

"What the fuck, man?" Tim was clearly ruffled. "Let's bounce Skye."

"But, Tim, that's seven THOUSAND pounds."

"Have you heard of quitting while you're ahead? You can keep it all, I don't want it."

"It's no different to what we've already done. Just, well, longer."

"Skye, come on, he's a creep."

"Please, big brother."

I pulled my best puppy dog eyes. I can be pretty damn cute when I want to be.

"Pweeease?"

Tim rolled his eyes.

"Fine but I need to sit down. I'll crick my neck leaning over you for five minutes."

"What about my neck?"

"Just sit on my lap, dummy. Then we'll be the same height."

Tim sat on one of the wooden platform benches and I straddled his lap, plonking my peachy butt on his thighs. Let me just say, what I lack in boobs I make up for in butt. Ten years of track and squats will do wonders for a gal.

"Umm, Skye?"

"Yeah?"

"I meant, like, sit sideways on me. Not, you know..."

Now he mentioned it, it did look like I was about to dry hump the shit out of him.

"Oh, right, opps."

My cheeks glowed with embarrassment as I started to climb off but Tim held me in place.

"It's fine," he said, resigning himself, "let's just get it over with."

"Ready?" Asked the businessman, sitting beside us.

Tim and I stared into each others eyes. He nodded once.

"Yes." I whispered.

"The clock starts when you do."

Somehow it seemed more intimate in this position. I suddenly felt shy.

"Frick, maybe this is a bad idea. What am I saying, of course this is a bad idea. A terrible idea. Literally the worst idea since marmite humus. I want to meet the guy who invented that and..."

Tim cupped my cheek and pulled me forcefully into the kiss.

My anxiety melted away in an instant. The previous kiss had felt clinical in comparison. This time it was passionate. Needy.

Tim's hand slipped onto the back of my head as he made out with me like we were on a first date. I draped my arms round his neck and pressed my body against his muscular torso as his other arm slipped around my waist.

I lost track of time, totally consumed in my brother and him in me. I desperately pulled him closer and felt him freeze for a moment. Our lips stayed connected but I sensed the moment suddenly slip away.

Then I realised why.

In my eagerness, I'd shimmied up his thighs until our hips met. Now my perfect ass was positioned directly over the thick, twitching lump in Tim's pants.

In that moment, for the first time in my life, I swear I nearly came.

In for a penny, in for a pound, I reasoned, kissing Tim with renewed passion.

I felt Tim's grip tighten in my hair as he gradually began kissing me back. The hand around my waist slipped down to rest on my ass. I felt an uncertain squeeze through my jeans. Damn, I wished I'd worn a skirt.

Slowly at first, then with vigour, I began shifting my hips as I tried to nestle the thick bulge in Tim's trousers between my pert cheeks.

There was no disguising it, I was dry humping my brother.

"Mind the gap."

Huh?

The doors of the tube were opening before Tim or I even realised it had arrived at the platform. Passengers piled out. Drunken revellers, bleary eyed shift workers, a horde of school kids on a German exchange. All of them staring at the couple grinding against each other like animals on heat.

"Oi oi!"

I buried my head against Tim's neck, wishing the heat death of the universe would hurry up and arrive.

--

The businessman handed me a neat, ivory card while Tim counted the notes.

"You can make big money, playing games like this for a few days. Would you like to give it a try?"

"If this is some fucking casting couch shit, you've got the wrong person. I'm not interested."

"Skye Deller."

"How do you know my name?"

"You signed up on OnlyFans today, right? Skye Deller, 19 years old. Three A-levels but no scholarship offers. You work weekends at a pub in Putney. The King's Head. It pays minimum wage and the manager keeps the tips."

Tim froze midway through a stack. "What the fuck, man?"

"As of now you have thirty six pounds in your current account and ten pence in a lifetime ISA."

"I was GOING to pay into that, okay."

"No boyfriend, which explains your browsing history. DP. Creampie. CNC. Ince..."

"Who are you?" Tim demanded, fronting up to the businessman, "how dare you run a background check on my sister."

The businessman offered Tim his card.

"We don't have many spots left."

Tim ripped the card out of the businessman's hand.

"Give me a call."

--

It's kind of a conversation killer, making out with you brother.

We sat in silence all the way home then dashed up the stairs with only a quick goodnight to our parents and elder sister, Amber.

I lingered outside my bedroom and Tim outside his.

"Let's agree never to discuss this again."

"Totally," I agreed, "it never happened."

"What didn't?"

"Exactly," I laughed, glad the tension was easing. "Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you keep the card?"

"No, I tossed it in..."

Tim's hand slipped to his pocket. A moment later, he pulled out the businessman's card.

"Huh. I could have sworn I ditched that."

"We're not going to call it though, are we?"

"What? Obviously not."

"That's what I thought," I said, sweating as the awkward tension returned.

"Goodnight, Skye."

"Goodnight, Tim."

"Oh, Skye?"

"Yeah?"

"Onlyfans?"

"Ugh!"

Tim ducked beneath my hand and slipped into his bedroom. I could hear him laughing through the door.

"Shut up!"

--

I woke up in the arms of a stranger.

It was odd because I'd definitely fallen asleep alone, but I was cozy and the stranger had nice arms, so I didn't question it too deeply.

It was probably a dream, I reasoned, a fucking nice dream. The stranger's hard cock was pressed up against my back. I groaned sleepily and wiggled back against him.

"Skye!?"

In an instant I was wide awake. I knew that voice.

"Tim?" I rolled over and found myself face to face with my brother.

"What the fuck are you doing in my bed?"

"Your bed? What are you doing in mine?"

A blazing white light suddenly dazzled us both. We sat up shielding our eyes, and looked around. We were in a huge hall lined with bunkbeds stacked five high. All around us couples were emerging from beneath duvets. The women wearing identical silk, thigh-length nighties and the men in loose silk boxer shorts.

"Fifty, fifty-one, fifty two..."

An elderly gentleman in his eighties was counting in the adjacent bunked.

"Excuse me, sir. Where are we?"

The elderly gentleman's bedmate, a petite eighteen year old girl with pony tails, shushed Skye.

"Don't disturb him!"

"Fifty was it?"

"You're counting how many couples are here?" Tim chipped in.

"Yes," the girl sulked, "so stop disturbing Grandpa!"

"Wait, where was I?"

"Oh now you've done it." The girl huffed.

"Sir, look over there. There are 100 couples in here." Tim pointed to a huge screen on the far wall displaying glowing yellow digits.

"Where is here?" I asked, looking around at the drowsy couples slowly descending from the bunkbeds.

"You prick!"

A sudden scream from the middle of the hall caught our attention. A crowd of people had gathered around a woman in her twenties struggling viciously to break free from the silver-fox struggling to hold her back from a smugly smiling athletic man her age.

Tall, dark, beautifully built, you'll come to know this douche, also know as Apollo, later. Just believe me when I tell you she's got him pegged.

"Easy, Ellie," the silver-fox calmed, "he's not worth it."

"Didn't think I'd run into you here," Apollo drawled, "you always were sexy when you were angry."

A gorgeous, Amazonian princess of a woman sashayed up to Apollo and hooked her arm through his.

"I'll kill him, Dad!"

Every man in the room gawped as Ellie wrestled against her father, her huge, gravity defying breasts threatening to break free of her sheer nightie, which rose tantalising up her thighs to expose the underside of her million dollar ass. Hell, even I gawped.

A fog horn suddenly cut through the pandemonium.

A pair of aircraft hangar doors opened beneath the screen and a platoon of masked goons wearing pink jumpsuits marched through them.

One of the goons stepped ahead of the others.

"I would like to extend a heart felt welcome to you all. Everyone here will participate in six games over six days. Those who win all six games will win a life-changing cash prize."

The penny dropped. I whipped round to face my brother.

"Did you call the number?!"

Before he could answer, a lithe blonde woman in her thirties yelled at the goon.

"How are we supposed to believe you? You drugged and kidnapped us!"

A young man with the look and IQ of a naughties Abercrombie model chipped in.

"Yah, and, like, what's with the mask, yah?"

"Yeah," squeaked a mousy girl with bottle-top glasses, "give us one good reason to believe you!"

"Team 44. Lisa and Dwight Lebowitz," the goon announced, pointing at the mousy girl and the nerdy boy beside her, "co-owners of the Battling Aces board game cafe."

The screen above the goons suddenly cut to hidden camera footage of the Lebowtiz siblings making out sloppily but enthusiastically at a tube station.

"Invested family savings in the business and facing bankruptcy due to spiralling overheads," the goon continue before pointing at the Abercrombie model and the doppelgänger beside him, "Team 71. Aberforth and Hugo Hunter-Thwaite."

The screen cut to another hidden camera recording of the brothers making out tentatively.

"The family seat in Balmoral requires seven million pounds of repairs to avoid dereliction," the goon continued, pointing at the lithe blonde and the leggy beauty beside her, " Team 9. Antonia and Zara Micholev."

Another recording, Antonia blowing the smoke from a cigarette into Zara's mouth before their lips joined in an indifferent kiss.

"Assets seized by the Russian state following their outspoken criticism of the regime."

We watched, horrified but fascinated, as the screen split up into dozens of smaller windows displaying similar hidden camera footage.

"All of you in this room have crippling debts. We played a game, you won, so you trusted us and volunteered to play according to your own free will."

"Yo!" Apollo called out to the goon, "how much we playing for?"

"Team 1. Apollo and Riley Jackson."

The screen filled with footage of the siblings enjoying their make-out session way too much for it to have been there first time.

The goon pointed to the ceiling where a giant, glass piggy bank hung.

"The prize money will accumulate after each game. The amount will be revealed after the first game."

With that, the goons turned and marched out of the hall.

"Tim! We agreed not to call the number!"

"I didn't think anything would actually come of it."

Brothers, I rued as a strange gas hissed out of vents on the floor, you can't live with them and you can't live withou...

--

I was pretty over being gassed by the time I next woke up.

We were in another vast hall. I was bound to a chair with my hands tied behind my back. Tim was shackled to a stake in the ground in front of me. Between us was a large buzz wire game.

All around us, teams were arranged in the same formation.

I shifted on the chair in attempt to shimmy the short nightie lower down my thighs, suddenly conscious of the view Tim would have between my legs if I opened them.

That's when it hit me.

There was something between my legs. I felt a little rubber tail rubbing between my thighs and a slight fullness inside my pussy.

The goons voice blared out through speakers positioned high on the walls.

"The first game is buzz wire. The player must move the ring through the puzzle without triggering their partner's orgasm. If a player orgasms, the team is inseminated."

"What the fuck!" My voice joined a chorus of outraged yells.

"Those who complete the game inside ten minutes without triggering an orgasm will proceed to the next round. The rest will be inseminated."

"Did he say inseminated?"

"On your marks, go!"

Tim stared dumbly at the buzz wire. Beside him, a nervous man picked up his stick and called to the woman bound beside me.

"Are you sure about this, mom?"

"It's okay, Stevie," his demure mother called back, "what's the worst they could..."

BUZZ!

The man's unsteady hand nudged the ring on his stick against the wire and his mother squealed in shock as a loud buzz emanated from between her thighs.

BUZZ!

"Uh, brossif, be careful with the widget, yah?"

On my other side, Hugo wiggled in his chair. His thin boxer shorts were tented by an erection that nudged towards the opening in the shorts as he struggled.

"I think there's a whatnot in my chufter, yah?"

BUZZ!

Aberforth nudged the buzz wire and Hugo jerked against his bindings, causing his cock to slip free of his boxers.

A clear bead of pre-cum seeped from the tip.

BUZZ!

"Skye, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you?"

Sporadic buzzes and moans filled the hall around us.

"Yeah but I think you should get started already. The clock is ticking.

"Are you kidding?" Tim said, outraged, "we're not playing. No way."

"You heard what they said. The teams who don't complete the game get inseminated."

"Yeah but they can't actually..."

"Are you sure? 'Cus that's a risk I don't feel like taking right now, bro!"

Tim tentatively picked up his stick.

"But what if I make you, well, you know. You're my sister."

"It's okay, Tim. There's something they don't know."

"What?"

BUZZ!

"Grandpaaaaa!"

Akari spasmed as the egg inside her stimulated her G-spot with a strong buzz.

"I remember this game," her grandpa smiled, "we used to play this at school."

"Please be careful, Grandpa," Akari begged, watching as his arthritic hand edged the ring along the wire.