Step Sister Succubus
Marc was grumbling internally as he leaned his head on the window by the front passenger seat.
His father, Peter, was quiet, but in good spirits compared to Marc, focusing on the road and also knowing that there wasn't anything much to discuss; they'd already talked about how they were moving in with his new wife, and how it was a better place than the cramped apartment they were renting before and still in the same area so he wouldn't be missing his friends.
That didn't mean Marc was any happier about it.
Especially since he barely
knew
this woman. He'd only met her once before at his 19
th
birthday just a month back, a taller Hispanic woman in her thirties like his dad, in a tight grey business suit that didn't help much in hiding her curves. She had her hair tied in a pony tail then and her eyes were obscured behind glasses. Or rather, Marc barely paid attention to her then despite her admittedly bombshell looks.
Maria Callisto was her name. A rather bizarre surname to Marc, but frankly, the idea that she was now her step-mother was more of a crazy thing to him.
He never even got to go to their wedding because he ended up getting his nose fractured the day before because some tank of a mutt barely reaching his knees still managed to barrel through his legs like he was nothing on its way to chase a bird. Flat on his face.
At least that had healed up just fine. But inwardly, he was still kinda hurt by the developments between Maria and his dad, though he never really voiced them. He respected his dad's decision, most of all because Marc's biological mother, his dad's first girlfriend, gave birth to Marc but after, she left. Marc never met his biological mother, but his dad insisted there were a variety of reasons she left, both her saying she wasn't ready to be a mother, and family pressures, but he'd never gone into more detail than that.
His dad had every right to move on, find a new partner after so many years a single parent. God knows it was hard finding a relationship when in one's 30s, if all the jokes and comments on the internet were to be believed.
That still didn't alleviate much of Marc's discontent.
Mostly because Maria had her own daughter, whom he'd never met before. And he wasn't sure what he was going to make of having a sister, 'in-law' or otherwise.
After a while, his dad spoke.
"I know you're not happy about this," he said as politely as he could. "It's a big change, and you don't know her all that well. But try to stay positive, yeah? You're an adult, things like this shouldn't be hard to adjust to."
"Barely an adult," Marc retorted. "But you don't need to tell me, dad. I'm not gonna object to your relationships."
"Object, no, but handle? That's what I'm worried about," his dad responded. "This will be the first time you've been in a full family, for lack of a better term."
"First time for everything, right?" Marc said, managing a thin smile, his father returning the same, but it was obvious to both that Marc wasn't quite so enthusiastic.
The conversation died down and the rest of the drive was in silence, until they pulled up to a two storey house in some upper middle class neighbourhood. It had a small lawn out front with a paved stone path leading to the front door. It was a fairly blocky building, one of those semi-artsy 'modern' architectural homes with overhanging awnings over the second floor balcony overlooking the street, with half the lower floor taken up by a two-car garage, though even then the ground floor seemed plenty spacious. There were windows everywhere, but he couldn't see inside because all the blinds seemed drawn.
They pulled up onto the concrete driveway, and Marc and Peter both got out, stretching their limbs.
"Well, we're here," Peter said.
"Fun," Marc grumbled. His father didn't answer and instead made for the door, Marc in tow. Peter already had a key given to him by his new wife, so he didn't bother announcing himself until he had unlocked the door and gone inside.
"Maria?" he called out.
"I will be down in a moment," came a rich voice, soft yet inexplicably commanding. It made Marc feel weird, especially knowing she was now his step-mother.
He looked around; the place was 'fancy' by his standards, but ultimately nothing too crazy for an upper middle class home with a 'modern' look; white walls with glass and steel furniture and railings for the staircase leading to the second floor, just off to the left of the entrance, with a door further leading to the garage. To the right was an open-plan lounge room, with a hall going directly ahead.
The floor was made of polished wood panelling, possibly faux, but Marc couldn't tell with his shoes on. There were small lights embedded in the walls, whilst the other fixtures were low-energy bulbs in frosted housings.
Overall, the aesthetic was simple and 'modern'. Minimalist.
Marc admittedly liked it, he hated 'busy' buildings.
He heard steps from the stairs and he saw Maria coming down, once again in a tight grey business suit, albeit bare foot inside the house, showcasing her polished toenails.
Why anyone would bother polishing their toenails, Marc would never know, not when Maria probably spent most of the day in some office wearing shoes.
Either way, even with a business suit, Maria would turn heads with her shapely figure and her looks; she had that air of maturity, but she was a bombshell with perfect features. She wasn't wearing glasses this time, so Marc could see her eyes properly, and he found them strangely striking, bright brown in colour but they didn't seem bland at all. Her hair was still in a pony tail, but it seemed shiny and bright like she'd just recently shampooed it.
She smiled broadly upon seeing Peter and Marc, quite a pleasing expression with her glossy lips.
Marc hated it. She was his stepmother now, and it was already feeling weird for him to notice how good she looked for her thirties.
"Peter," she greeted, leaning in to give him a kiss on the lips which Peter returned, both giggling affectionately. "I hope the place is to your liking."
"A lot better than our old apartment," Peter remarked.
She laughed softly, and then turned to Marc.
"It's good to see you again, Marc," Maria said. Marc did everything he could not to stare at her chest.
"You too, Miss," he answered, before pausing; she wasn't 'miss' anymore, even if she kept her maiden surname, but calling her 'mum' felt wrong too. "Sorry."
"It's alright," she conceded. "I know we haven't had time to get to know each other. I hope we can learn to be a family in time."
"Well, nineteen years, I guess better late than never," Marc murmured.
His dad patted him on the back.
"He'll be fine, he just needs time to adjust," Peter said. Marc flashed a glare at his father, but sighed out and moved to take his shoes off.
"Is that them?" came another voice from upstairs. It was eerily similar to Maria's, only much younger, but that richness was still there.
"Yes, your stepfather and brother are here," Maria responded.
Uncomfortable shivers raced up Marc's body hearing that. He didn't know how to feel about it.
Rapid steps were heard, and Marc laid eyes on Maria's daughter; now, also his stepsister.
She looked much like a younger version of Maria, with a slimmer frame but still curvy. Unlike Maria, she had her hair down, the chestnut lengths hanging almost to the small of her back and very glossy. Like her mother, she had that slightly tanned complexion owed to their Hispanic roots. She wore a white T-shirt with tight fitting jeans, also barefoot in the house. Upon seeing Marc, she gave him a smile that made him feel uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't explain. She didn't have any lip gloss on like Maria, but they still seemed plush and glossy.
But very much like her mother, she looked gorgeous, even casual like this, the kind of girl that was probably insanely popular during highschool and still had influence over her old schoolmates.
Marc had no idea how his father managed to woo a woman with looks that good. His dad wasn't ugly, but he was more 'conventionally attractive', and he worked a regular-ass nine-to-five blue-collar job.
Marc honestly hated it, because regarding his new family as 'hot' made him feel real weird.
Maria turned to her daughter, who was still smiling with an almost mischievous edge to her expression.
"This is Sofia, my daughter," Maria introduced. "She's nineteen, same as you, Marc."
"You know, you probably went to the school in the district next to mine," Sofia remarked. "Otherwise we probably would've met."
"Probably," Marc answered with little enthusiasm, but it seemed to amuse Sofia, his step-sister flashing him a grin.
"Anyway, now that we're all introduced, I should show you around the house. Get you acquainted with the place," Maria said.
"Sounds like a plan," Peter agreed.
It was the only thing Marc was really excited for.
---
The house was pretty nice. Nothing crazy, but also spacious and with plenty of rooms. The one they were giving to Marc even had its own TV, though the room itself was pretty barren otherwise, purposely so, in order for him to set it up how he wished.
He wasn't sure what to make of his stepsister having her room right next to his though. And throughout the whole tour, Sofia was glancing at him, this weird mix of teasing mischievousness and curiosity. Marc didn't dare call it out, but it made him feel real funny.
They had gone back downstairs into the lounge room, the evening news coming on as the sun dropped below the horizon and the lights inside came on automatically, but no one paid attention to the TV as they conversed.
Well, Maria and Peter talked.
Marc did his best to check his phone and contribute to the conversation only as minimally as possible.
Sofia made it difficult, however; the lounge room was arrange around a central steel frame and glass-topped coffee table with a TV cabinet and flatscreen nestled in the corner, the front at a 45 degree angle.
