It was such a small thing—just a fold laid wrong—you or I might not even notice it, but Debra was instantly aware that someone else had touched her panties. Neatness was something she prided herself in and took special pains to maintain. Not even her mother dared to arrange her clothing or put it away once it had been washed.
Debra pulled the delicate garment from the drawer and held it open, looking closely for any signs of violation. She examined the lace trimmed waistband and leg openings, and then studied the small cotton crotch panel. There were no rips or stains that she could see. She sniffed both sides of the panel, but could detect no scent other than the faint clean smell of detergent.
She lowered the panties slowly, caressing them to her cheek, then along her slender neck, finally brushing them across her firm breasts. Her hand lingered there, rubbing the smooth material against her skin until she felt her nipples harden beneath it. A stirring in her loins caused her to sit down on the bed and bring her other hand up until her fingers found the moist source of her arousal. She lay back with a sigh and spread her thighs. She would be late for class again, but college biology lectures were crushingly boring. Anyway, she thought—as she felt her clit swell beneath her busy finger—wasn't this a better way to learn biology?
Afterward, as Debra finished dressing and smoothed the front of her skirt, she felt the hem of her panties pressing against her taut stomach, and remembered. She opened her underwear drawer and made some careful adjustments, then hurried off to her classes at the local community college. Maybe her suspicions were unfounded but if they weren't, she damned well needed to know. If that little bastard of a brother was getting into her stuff she would soon know it.
Henry got out of high school at 2:00, which put him home two hours before his older sister Debra. Since his mother worked even later, and his father was fishing in Alaska, Henry had learned to use his "private time" in the manner of most oversexed teenagers. He masturbated every chance he got. Having just turned eighteen, Henry knew he should be moving on toward real relationships, but it wasn't happening. Part of the problem was physical; he was smaller than most boys his age, and his effeminate features and small penis often made him the butt of locker-room jokes. So Henry kept to himself, comforted by a line from an old Woody Allen movie that he once saw on cable: "Hey, don't knock masturbation – It's sex with someone I love."
Henry had gotten a stronger push down the road to self-indulgence than most boys his age when—three years earlier—he discovered his parent's stash of erotic literature, along with some nude Polaroids of his mother. This had fueled his fantasies like nothing before. Then, last year, he caught a glimpse of his sister's tits when her towel slipped as she came out of the bathroom. After that, Henry's sexual fantasies always included his sister, and sometimes her college friends as well.
Since the photos of his mother had been hidden in the back of her lingerie drawer, it was inevitable that Henry's interest in female undergarments grew along with his fantasies. It wasn't long before he began trying on some of the strange garments. The first time he put on a pair of his mother's panties he came almost instantly. He had to wash out the stains and then dry them before anyone got home, but unfortunately he put the dryer on "high" and scorched the panties. He hid them in the trash and prayed his mother wouldn't miss them. Debra came home and interrogated him about the smell in the laundry room, so Henry made up a story about drying out his wet tennis shoes. Debra was skeptical, but let it pass.
Eventually Henry tired of his mother's things. His mother was a big woman, and her things didn't Henry's narrow build well at all. One day, as he pranced in front of her big mirror and stroked his cock, he saw how poorly they fit and knew the illusion just wasn't good enough anymore. That's when he decided to try his sister's underwear. She was slender—except for her breasts, which were like ripe peaches—and though her hips were wider than Henry's, he knew she'd be a better fit than their mother. Then he thought about the risk. Debra was very sensitive about Henry touching any of her stuff. If she ever found out, she would beat him to a pulp.
Finally one day Henry was unable to contain his curiosity any longer, and he decided to throw caution to the wind. He crept into Debra's room as soon as he got home, and was ultra-careful not to disturb anything she might notice. He felt giddy the moment he opened her underwear drawer and saw the neatly folded piles there. He carefully noted the exact placement before he touched anything. At last—holding his breath—he took out a pair of her panties and held them out. They were small yellow cotton things with lace trim. He rubbed them against his face for awhile. His cock surged with anticipation. Henry pushed his pants down around his ankles and began rubbing the thin material along his penis.
The neighbor's car pulled in and Henry heard their door slam. Panicking suddenly, he quickly folded the panties and put them away, then scurried out of his sister's room. There was always tomorrow he thought, closing her door. Poor Henry was blithely unaware that his less-than-perfect folding job would soon be his undoing.
The next day, Henry came home and immediately resumed his exploration of his sister's underwear drawer. He took all of his clothes off first, and then tried on several pairs of Debra's panties, carefully folding each one and putting it away before grabbing another. In his excitement he failed to notice several fine hairs falling loose from where Debra had carefully placed them.
Debra came home that afternoon and found Henry—as usual—watching television. She went up to her room and immediately discovered that her trap had been sprung. Henry had been rummaging through her underwear! She suppressed the urge to run downstairs and strangle the little fucker. Instead she paced her room like a caged lioness. Soon a plan began to form. She would catch him in the act, prove his guilt beyond any doubt, and then exact her revenge.
The red lace body-stocking was a gift from a male admirer who had hoped to see Debra wear it. She was not inclined to grant his wish however, and had placed it—still in the original box—high up on her closet shelf, under a pile of sweaters. Now she retrieved the provocative garment and laid it in the underwear drawer where Henry would surely see it. Then she quietly slipped into her parent's room and grabbed the Polaroid camera, along with some film and flashbulbs.
Henry hurried home from school the next day, planning to use as much time as possible exploring the wondrous things he had discovered in his sister's room. This time he stripped off all of his clothing before beginning his explorations. The vulnerability of being completely naked seemed to excite him more. With his little penis wagging in front of him to point the way, he carefully opened Debra's bedroom door and went inside.
Something caught Henry's eye as soon as he opened the underwear drawer—a red filmy garment he had not seen on his previous visits. Carefully noting how it was folded, he lifted it out and held it open. It looked like a one-piece bathing suit except that it was so sheer he could see right through it. Examining it closer, he noticed two tiny snaps right in the bottom of the crotch. This excited Henry so much he knew he had to put it on immediately.
Debra looked carefully out from her hiding place in the darkened closet and watched Henry fumble with her underwear. She felt the rage building within her and struggled to suppress it, gripping the Polaroid camera so hard that her knuckles turned white. She wanted to rush out and beat the living shit out of her little brother right then, but she held on for the more satisfying vengeance taking shape before her eyes.
Henry shimmied the garment up over his narrow hips and flat chest, and then pulled the delicate straps over his pale scrawny shoulders. He turned to look at himself in the floor-length mirror. He was stunned at how much it made him look like a girl. His little cock stiffened and begged for release. Henry squatted and felt between his thighs. His fingers found the two crotch snaps, and he pulled on them. The snaps parted and his little cock popped free...
FLASH!
Henry whirled around to find his sister facing him, aiming a camera right at him. He froze, and everything seemed to go into slow motion. He heard the whir of the camera motor as the photo rolled out. Before he could reach down and cover himself, another bright flash caught him in a full-frontal exposure. Stunned, blinded, Henry's mouth flapped open like a fish out of water. He couldn't think of what to say. Even in that first moment of discovery Henry sensed that somehow his life had changed forever.
"You fucking little pervert!" Debra screamed.
Henry finally overcame his shock and turned to flee.
"Come back here!"
A final flash captured his white ass-cheeks in retreat, pumping hard below the flapping tail of red lace. Henry ran into his room, slammed the door, and leaned against it. He expected Debra to come banging on the door any second, but there was only silence. Finally he heard soft footsteps approach the door.
"Henry," Debra called softly, "Please open the door honey."
"No! You'll hit me!" Henry replied.
He was frantic—he knew she could force her way in if she really wanted to. He stood there shivering in the thin garment, ashamed and frightened. His sister's voice came soft and reassuringly from the other side of the door.
"Nonsense. I understand how little boys are—I won't hurt you. I just want to show you something."
"W-what?" Henry blubbered, nearly in tears.
"Why your pictures, of course," Debra replied. "They came out real nice. Of course if you don't want to see them, I'm sure someone will. Maybe I'll give them to the yearbook committee. This one here might make a nice senior picture."
"Noooo! Please don't!"
"Then come out here right now and we can discuss this." Debra's matter-of-fact tone made it clear to Henry that he really had no other choice.
The door opened a crack and Henry peered out. Suddenly his ear was being pulled so hard he felt it would come off. He stumbled out into the hallway screaming and falling to his knees. Debra pushed him down and kneeled across his back and neck, immobilizing him.
"You pathetic little bastard!" she hissed, "I should beat the shit out of you."
"I'm sorry. . ." Henry whined.
Debra pulled up the back of the garment, exposing Henry's small white buttocks. She spanked him hard with her open hand, eliciting more screaming. Henry struggled but was unable to move.
"Shut up!" Debra commanded.
Henry continued crying, so she beat his ass some more and told him to be quiet again. This was repeated until he finally learned that the only way to stop the punishment was to be quiet. By this time his bottom was beet-red and burned fiercely from Debra's blows. He sniffed and whimpered in pain then fell silent.
"Okay, that's better," Debra said. "Now we have to figure out what to do with you."
"What do you mean?" Henry whined, then cried out as she viciously struck him again.
