Twin Tonic

My twin sister Rona and I had a pretty good life up until the time our mom ran away with this other woman. She just quit on dad and dad took to drinking pretty heavy. That was just after our eighteen birthday. It was really a shock to all of us but like Rona said, it wasn't really a surprise; dad, though not abusive, just wasn't there for mom in any kind of meaningful way.

About a week after mom was gone dad started hitting the bottle pretty hard; he'd see us and curse at us and yell for no reason, so Rona and I just kept to ourselves and stayed in our rooms. We were scared that something would happen or he'd hit us or something so we just avoided him whenever we could. Pretty much though, by nine o'clock every night he was passed out cold in the living room with the TV going, and that's when we'd come out and make our supper as quietly as possible and then sneak back to our rooms to eat. We were like little squirrels scurrying around but we got used to this new routine pretty fast and things went on like that for a couple of months.

Then dad switched from beer and wine to vodka and things got worse. He was more irritable and belligerent than ever, always going on and mumbling about mom and her "whore lover-woman" and how he'd show them both "what a real man could do" and Rona and me just hid in our rooms till everything would go quiet outside. One night I'd forgotten to get groceries on the way home from class (Rona and I attend a college just down the road from where we live) so I told my sister to stay in her room and lock the door while I went to a Burger King to get some dinner for us. Dad was already in his silent mode watching TV—drinking straight out of the bottle and staring blankly—and I went quickly past him and out the door without saying a thing. But as I headed back after picking up food from the drive-thru, I got this terrible, aching feeling in the pit of my stomach and I knew something awful was happening or about to happen. I blew through a couple of intersections trying to get home as fast as possible and when I finally came in the front door and saw what had happened the bags of food just fell out of my hands.

I recognized my sister's clothes strewn all over the living room floor. Now I'm not the kind of person who would know what kind of panties she'd had on but I saw a pair of them on the floor and recognized the shorts and tee-shirt she'd been wearing when I left. The TV was still on and that was the only light in the room, but from where I was standing behind the couch I could clearly see a bare foot sticking up, silhouetted by the glare of the TV.

Now even though I'm male and Rona's very much female, we're identical in just about every way twins can be. But even if we weren't so much the same I still would've known that the foot sticking up wasn't dad's—it was too pretty.

I moved toward the couch feeling like I was trying to push through a wall of cold molasses but when I finally peered over the edge, though I'd been expecting something horrible, I was still shocked at what I saw.

Dad was laying face-down on the couch snoring and completely unconscious. Normally I would have felt sorry for him but not this time. Pure hatred filled me to the point where it almost overflowed, but from beneath the naked, hairy bulk of our father came the soft, hushed sobs of my sister and that kept my mouth shut. She lay there on her back, one leg up against the back of the couch, the other spread out and hanging off the seat cushion with the motionless mass of dad laying between them. I could only see her legs and an arm so I hurried around to the front of the couch and stared at a sight so pitiful my heart just broke.

Rona was pressed down into the seat cushions by dad's sheer weight, her head turned away from me, weeping disconsolately into her hand. She'd been stripped of all her clothes—even the old pair of socks she wore around the house—but worst of all, her self-respect and dignity had been ripped away. I remembered the times she'd shown me a new dress she'd bought or a new pair of sandals. I remembered picking her up after getting her hair done. I thought of her running and jogging and dieting to keep fit and healthy or telling me how scared she was of going to the dentist for her bi-yearly check up, and now here she was, pressed down and trapped beneath an unconscious, unthinking brute who hadn't seen all those other, happier, sweeter sides of her and had only wanted a fleshy, convenient hole to fuck!

The feeling I'd had back at the drive-thru when I'd sensed something wrong now clutched at my chest. She and I had always shared a certain special wordless connection between us and now I could feel how empty and desolate she felt; how shamed and humiliated and broken—especially by someone you're supposed to trust!

Kneeling at the front of the couch I reached out and touched her shoulder but Rona wept even harder, shaking her head, refusing to even look at me. I sat back on my heels, trying to figure a way to get our 250 pound father (if I could still think of him as that) off of her. She was laying trapped beneath him and though I'm a bit stronger than my sister, dad was just dead weight now and Rona and me are not exactly weight-lifters. I got up and went around picking up Rona's things while I tried to think of a way to get her out of there, took off my jacket to cover her when and if I did and finally came back. It still looked like the only thing I could do would be to try and roll dad off her and hope he didn't wake up.

Reaching over, I grabbed his shoulder and one leg and pulled, and after a little bit got him to tip and slide to the floor. Rona moaned a little as his weight ground over her thigh and knee but then he was down, still snoring, still passed out. I rushed to cover her with my jacket, helped her sit and when she was able, I got her on her feet and guided her out of the living room and down the hall to her room. I helped her get in bed, asked her if she wanted to shower or bathe but she didn't say a word and just shook her head. Then she told me to get out and not bother her anymore, and just hearing her—my own sweet sister—talk to me so coldly and to dismiss me like that was a change that hurt almost more than anything else I'd already experienced. But as I walked out and closed her door, I realized that I could never know hurt like she'd just experienced and just left it at that.

Alone in my room I started thinking of ways to get even. I thought of tying dad up and leaving him there, naked on the living room floor, until he sobered up. I thought of going out there and kicking him in the head so he'd never wake up, but there was another part of me that still really pitied him. Sure it was maybe his fault he was always so busy he never had time for mom but nobody's perfect. He'd provided. He'd never been abusive to her. She'd simply found someone else. I knew it had hurt him to the core but that still didn't give him the right to take it out on my poor sister—his own daughter!

Rona was crying again. The sound came through the wall that separated our rooms and a cloud came down over me once more. I felt heavy, fatigued, tired, sad. All my anger had drained me so I shut my eyes for just a moment to clear my head and think but when I opened them again it was morning. I lay there listening, hoping it had all been a nightmare, but trying to hear if anything was going on. I listened hard—especially for dad's voice—but couldn't hear a thing. I glanced over at the clock, saw it was almost nine and knew that dad, if he was awake at all, would probably be well into another bottle. Getting out of bed quietly I crept to the door to listen, didn't hear anything unusual, opened it and went down the hall. I stopped at Rona's door, listening, wishing again that none of this had ever happened, but didn't hear anything and went on down to the living room.

"Gawd, yer sweet, sweet ass baby!" dad's voice growled and I froze in place. From where I was, just where the hall opened onto the living room, I could see dad's head moving above the back of the couch as he stared at something in front of him. "You got just the silkiest legs—mmm...."

I had to squint because there were no lights on and the room was as dark as it gets at night because of all the curtains being drawn shut. There was a little splash of light where I was, beaming in through the kitchen window, so I held my place, not daring to move or even breathe. Dad hadn't sounded so drunk but I couldn't really tell, and though I doubted he'd be able to recognize me if he saw me, I was still cautious when I stepped out of the light to get a little closer to the couch. I stopped short again and stood there stunned, staring at a repeat of the previous night's outrage, hearing the moist squishing sound dad's cock was making as it forced in and out of my twin's body. My heart rate flew out of control!

Rona was on her knees, bent over against the front of the couch with dad right up behind her, shoving away. She wasn't crying so the only sound was dad's grunts and heavy breathing and the slapping sound of his front against her butt—and that wet, soggy, squishy sound.

I felt like dragging him off her and beating him. I'd probably get my ass bludgeoned but I had to try something! But as I stood there I suddenly felt that comfortable, reassuring empathy with Rona—the sort of link we'd always shared—and though it was only for a second and certainly not the best time to be feeling this way, the familiarity of this growing link put my mind somewhere else. It was almost as if I'd traded places with her for just that one moment and though there was a burning in my groin and a tightness all over my body, I felt at ease; calm, patient; maybe tolerant of what she was being subjected to right then. But we'd always shared this secret empathy with each other and even when things were difficult or scary or confusing, simply touching each other in this silent, private way had always helped whichever of us was in trouble at the time. Staring at my sister in all her natural beauty—her pretty butt and silky legs that dad had so eloquently mentioned—I felt some of the things she was feeling right then and wished somehow I could really and truly take her place.

It wasn't such a stretch: with me not being as broad-shouldered and muscular as most guys my age, and Rona not being as big-busted and curvy as other girls her age, we were more alike than most identicals. Even my longer hair and her shorter hair met in the middle somewhere, leaving us almost mirror images of each other if seen from across a room. I remembered Aunt Ellen mistaking me for Rona at one of the last family get-togethers before mom left and even after she spun me around laughing and kissed my cheek she didn't recognize me; not until Rona came up giggling and stood beside me. That's why I'd started growing a mustache, though not being very hairy to begin with, I'd started to lose confidence in ever getting it beyond the stupid stage.

I stepped back, still focused on the connection I had with my sister, wanting to save her but knowing there was now nothing I could do to rescue her short of getting the heavy fry pan and knocking dad out, but then a thought came to mind and I turned and hurried silently up the hall and into my room. After closing the door I went and ran my shower nice and hot and as steam filled the room I selected a new safety razor and shaving cream, and then I stripped down and stepped into the tub.

When I came out about fifteen minutes later I was more identical to Rona than I'd ever been in my life, with my face clean shaven and everything but the downy hair on my arms now shaved completely off. Even my cock and balls were smooth and hairless but I'd left a small V-shaped patch on my crotch to make myself look even more like a girl—which is what I was going for; it was my "bush". Then, still toweling off, I sneaked out and down to Rona's room, went in and found one of her bottles of body-splash and put some on, then stopped dead in my tracks.

One lingering difference between my sister and myself was now standing stiffly out before me. But it was only a part of the way I felt: my whole body felt like an erection! I could feel my freshly shaved skin tingling like I'd never felt before and even though it was completely inappropriate, I realized I was hornier than I'd ever felt in my entire life. I looked down at myself, at my shaved chest and nipples, my hairless belly, and then ran my hands slowly down my sides and then up again till my fingertips found the satiny concaves of my armpits. My cock stirred and flexed up even harder and was grateful that I was "endowed" down there just about as well as my sister was in the boob department; at full erection it was just under five inches long and was not even as big around as my big-toe.

It was more than simply being shaved hairless though; it was the fact that someone in the same house I was in, close-by, was having sex. It didn't matter that it wasn't appropriate and under duress; it was sex. Sexual intercourse, or from what I could gather from my dad's words, butt-fucking. But it wasn't only the fact that my own twin sister was a part of it; it was the fact that even though I knew her so well and had grown accustomed to seeing her, she was in fact a very beautiful, vivacious, sexy young woman. And as I thought of her, about her laying naked with her legs spread the night before, and bent over the front of the couch just outside in the living room, my body responded. I'd never thought of Rona as sexy or a sexual being, but now, having seen what I'd seen excited me, but in a way that was stranger than what I would've thought: I wasn't necessarily attracted to her sexually—as in wanting to have sex with her—it was more like wanting to

be

her while she was having sex.

But what was happening outside wasn't even sex as far as I could think; and it especially wasn't making love! It was all about convenience and lust and abuse and humiliation and one person taking advantage of another and controlling them. But I still had to do something about this awkward thing sticking off my crotch in order for this weird, hazy crazy plan of mine to ever happen, so I crept back to my room to try to figure something out. I looked at athletic tape, electrical tape, anything that might let me tie my cock down enough to make it disappear but the more I tried to push it downward and backward and bend it out of the way, the harder it got. The fact was I was touching it more than I normally did even when jerking off and now with no hair down there to get in the way, everything was ultra sensitive.

Somewhere around there I think I must've drifted off into some other reality because I wound up on my knees right where I'd been standing, my cock tucked down between my thighs and feeling like my whole body was humming. I looked down and saw the feminine looking V-shape I'd trimmed in my pubic hair—which was now the only thing showing of my crotch—and the pale smoothness of my thighs and knees and belly really made me feel different. It was like I was suddenly a female version of myself and as this wonderful warm daydream kept me in its grip I started touching myself, wondering, as I ran my fingers up and down my thighs, if girls felt these same kinds of things. I wondered if they caressed their own legs when they masturbated or whether, like guys, they simply "went for the gold" and forgot about everything else. I got my legs out from under me and leaned back on my hands, staring at my legs.

I was never very hairy, not like some of my pals, but now that my legs were shaved (with a few nicks I have to admit), they were even paler, without the hair giving them that dusky look. Still gazing down at myself I realized it was almost like looking over the shoulder of some pretty girl, looking at her as she looked at herself, and then without really thinking about it I brought my right knee back—the lower leg bending down and with the foot pointing—and the feeling of being some strange inner voyeur became even stronger. I thought of Rona and how pretty she was and realized that the leg I was staring at now was exactly like hers; the thigh, the knee with its dimples, the calf and shin, and the foot. I'd never really compared the both of us so closely before but our sameness really struck me right then.

Then, still drifting on this breathless, timeless cloud, I reached down and ran my hand under my bottom. I'd shaved there too, even the crack of my ass, and as I felt around down there, enjoying the silky feeling of my hairless skin, I remembered what dad had said to Rona, about her "sweet, sweet ass" and remembered that he'd been fucking her butt-hole. Not planning it or thinking much more about it I got up, went to the bathroom and found my bottle of skin lotion, came back and knelt with one leg under me, the other knee up in front, and began applying the lotion to my own butt-hole. I massaged it around and round my pucker then slipped a fingertip in and rubbed the stuff in.

I lost track of things for a few moments after that because of how incredible it felt to be doing that to myself, but by the time I remembered what I was doing and where I was, I had two slick fingers moving in and out of my ass, stretching my hole, relaxing and opening it nice and wide. It was such a wonderful sensation I would've gone on doing it for the rest of the day but I finally pulled my fingers out and got to my feet. I was shaky, excited—more than ready to do what I'd been planning—but just then I heard dad yell from the living room "Hurry back honey-girl! And don't forget to bring that pretty ass of yours back!"

Then I heard the sound of bare feet walking lightly and quickly down the wooden hall floor, right past my room toward the main bathroom at the end of the hall. There was the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing and I knew it was time! I still had a boner I couldn't hide but I opened my door and went out—feeling so nervous there was a knot in my stomach—and tiptoed down the hall until I could peek around the corner into the living room.

It was still dark in the house because of the curtains but I could see Dad sitting on the floor facing away from the couch, staring at the TV. It was on some baseball channel now but the sound was down and as he sat there he was downing some vodka from a glass. I was so scared, yet so excited, I couldn't budge! I was almost going to turn back and forget the whole thing when dad happened to glance back just then and caught me looking.

"Aw girl, now come on!" he said, but he didn't sound as drunk as normal. I smiled and stepped out from behind the wall and was really glad that dad had turned to look at the TV again because the back of the couch could only hide my boner for a little distance. I took a couple of steps and then dashed around to the front of the couch and got down on my knees right where I'd last seen my twin kneeling. I pulled my cock up against the front of the seat cushion and then just waited there, breathless.

"There's my girl!" dad said, and I heard him moving behind me and then felt his hands around my waist. I shivered uncontrollably, gasping, and my whole body flushed with expectation and fear. Even in the gloom I wondered if he'd know the difference, that I wasn't Rona. I only hoped he was drunk enough not to notice, but then the dull end of his dick was pushing against my bung-hole and then there was a little more pressure, a little more, and it popped right in.

I'd never felt anything so completely erotic and sensual in my life (not that I'd had that much experience with those things up until then), but every part of me rose in goose bumps as dad kept pushing and his dick kept sliding and squeezing into me. It was like when I was fingering myself in my room, only a hundred times better! Dad's cock was longer and thicker than three of my fingers put together and I held on, trying to be quiet, trying not to bring attention to my voice; even though Rona and I sound very much alike, I didn't know if we moaned alike and that was what was going to happen next if I couldn't get control of myself!