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Old 24-Dec-17, 09:31
Alexios Alexios is offline
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Default How I Became a Plaything

Part One: My Little Sister

There are moments in your life that will stick with you forever, memories that will be as clear and vivid as if they happened yesterday even when fifty years have passed. I know that even when I’m so senile that I can’t remember what I had for dinner even when the plate is still in front of me, I’ll still remember clearly how it all began.

My name is Daniel and it started on a Saturday in early October, just after noon. I went downstairs from my room into the kitchen to make myself a snack, muttering to myself when I spilled a bit of orange juice on my book, “The Emperor Romanus Lecepanus and his Reign”. It shows how much of a nerd I am that it was something I was reading for fun, not school.

I was always reading, history mostly although I threw in some sci-fi and fantasy, a stereotypical high school nerd minus the glasses. I was a few months away from my 17th birthday but unfortunately I seemed to have stopped growing at 5 feet, 7 inches.

Taking my food and book, I sat down in a recliner in the corner of the living room. Next to it was the main couch, flanked on the other side by another recliner. Opposite this whole setup was a large flatscreen TV, with a broad empty stretch of carpet in between.

I’d only read a couple of pages when Jane walked in. She was my stepsister, some months younger than me, just short of her 16th birthday. Despite being younger than me she was an inch taller, with her long brunette hair, the same color as mine, done up in a ponytail. We also had the same color eyes, green, but her skin was a light olive hue in contrast to my pasty white. Her mother, my stepmother, was Latina.

I avoided making eye contact with her, focusing on my book and snack. I found it awkward when Jane was around because, to be blunt, she was hot. She had a long-limbed athletic build with visible lean muscle tone in her arms and legs and perky breasts. And like the usual shy introverted guy I got nervous around beautiful girls.

Now before you get after me, I hasten to point out that she was my stepsister and we hadn’t grown up together. In fact we hardly knew each other. My father and her mother had only married back in July and they’d only moved in with us at the beginning of the school year, just over a month ago. Before that had happened, we’d only met four times, including the wedding.

She was wearing a plain white t-shirt and dark blue workout shorts that clung every tightly to her ass and did not go very far down her toned thighs. I inhaled deeply, frustrated with myself, and willed myself to focus on the antics of medieval Armenian nobles. Still I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that she was doing some warm-up stretches, bending down to reach her toes, a feat I couldn’t come close to replicating. Unlike me, Jane was quite athletic, playing in our school’s volleyball team and participating in the cheerleading squad, as well as doing some gymnastics on the side.

But I am a nerd and the antics of medieval Armenian nobles do sometimes read like plots lifted from Game of Thrones so I was soon engrossed in my book. Until she turned her music on, some Ariana Grande thing, and it was loud, really annoyingly loud. I looked up. “Can you turn that down? I’m trying to read here.”

“Don’t want to,” she countered, doing the splits as she did. Just the thought of doing that made me wince in pain. “Besides you can read in your room.”

“I don’t have a recliner in my room. And I was here first.”

“Well, I need this space to practice. There’s no other place in the house that has the room. And I want my music.” She stood up and walked toward me. “If you don’t like it, go to your room.”

I wonder sometimes how my life would’ve turned out if I’d listened to her. I was going to say that I didn’t have a problem with her music, that I just wanted her to turn it down some, when she grabbed my glass of orange juice and downed it, putting it back down on the coaster. “Ah, that was good. Bring me another.”

“Get your own,” I snarled. “And fill up mine while you’re at it.” It was only fair that she did so.

“No, you do it. You could use the exercise, twig-limb.” Despite having a healthy teenage-boy appetite, I was quite skinny. I didn’t work out at all because that would cut into my reading time.

I got up out of the chair. “Fine. Be difficult. I’ll fill up my own but if you want some, get your own.” Before I could take the glass, Jane grabbed me and shoved me backward into the center of the carpet.

“You know, I bet I could make you get me a glass of orange juice, maybe a snack, even get you to cook me tacos or something.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh yeah. I bet you can’t even get to the fridge if I don’t let you.”

I looked at her, confused and now really irritated. I just wanted to read my book in peace; was that too much to ask? “I don’t know what’s wrong with you but just get out of my way,” I snarled, moving to step around her.

She grabbed and shoved me back again, causing me to stumble, and then tackled me, slamming me to my back on the ground, her crashing down on top of me and driving the air from my lungs. I was dazed a bit but pushed back and we rolled around on the floor in a tangle of limbs, bumping up against the couch, and then back to the middle of the room. There she rolled on top of me, snaking her legs around mine, and locked in what I know now is called a grapevine. I yelped in pain as she spread me out, her legs easily overpowering mine.

She giggled at my yelp, stretching me out a little further, making me hiss and whimper. I tried to roll away but she held me firmly down. “Put your hands on my thighs,” she growled.

“No.”

I screamed in pain as she stretched me more, then relaxed a bit so it was just ‘really hurts a lot’ as opposed to ‘my legs are on fire’. “That’s what happens when you tell me no. Put your hands on my thighs.”

I gingerly put my hands there. “Feel that muscle,” she ordered. Her skin was smooth and soft but her thigh muscles swelled up like granite pillars. “You’ve got nothing like that in your whole body. My legs must be almost twice as thick as yours.”

“Half again as much,” I countered.

“That’d be my arms compared to yours. How much do you weigh anyway?”

“125,” I muttered.

She giggled. “No wonder this is so easy. I’ve got an inch and twenty five pounds on you, all of it solid toned muscle.”

I bucked, trying and completely failing to budge her. She laughed. “I knew I could beat you. I didn’t realize how easy it’d be though. I can do anything I want to you and you can’t stop me.”

“That’s not true,” I protested.

She raised an eyebrow. One at a time, she reached back, grabbed my hands, and pinned them down to the ground by my ears. “Prove it. Try to get out.”

I struggled, I squirmed, I heaved with all my might. I could move my hands around on the floor but couldn’t lift them, or anything, off the ground. I was trapped. “Come on,” she said. “When are you going to start fighting?” The impish grin on her face showed that she knew I was. “You’re not going to get your ass kicked by a girl, are you? Beaten up by your little sister?” Her taunting spurred me to struggle more. I tried to roll to the side but her grapevine held me in place; I did manage to lift my right hand off the ground…perhaps an inch, for one second, before she shoved it back down.

I paused, panting for breath. She frowned. “Really, that’s it. That’s all you’ve got?” Jane raised herself up, smirking down at me, and then slammed her pelvis into mine, her hard firm abdomen crashing down into my much softer core, stunning me. She rolled on her left side, taking me with her as she uncoiled her legs from mine, snapping them shut around as we both faced each other on our sides. She straightened her legs around my lower abdomen, crossed her ankles, and squeezed my frame in a tight bodyscissors.

I gasped, putting my hands on her rock-hard and massive thighs, feebly trying to push them off. My struggles were more like rough caresses though; I was already so weak. “Please Jane,” I rasped. “Let me go. This isn’t funny.”

She giggled. “It is for me. I’m watching my big brother get his ass absolutely creamed by his little sister. What’s not to love?” She flexed a little harder, making me scream silently. It felt like her thighs are going to cut right through my insides, meeting up around my spine. Based on how hard it was to breathe, I figured they were already well on their way there.

Jane flexed her right bicep, a softball-sized orb in her arm. “It’s no surprise really. You’ve got no firepower and you’re up against these big guns.” She grinned impishly, chewing her lower lip. Somehow she squeezed even harder.

This was too much. I tapped her left thigh in surrender. She ignored it until I tapped again, frantically, and she lightened her grip slightly. Once again, just in great pain rather than agony. “Do you give?” she asked. I nodded. “Say it, out loud,” she growled.

“I give,” I whispered, barely audible.

“Say you submit to your little sister who is way too strong for you.” I managed to eke out the words, although she playfully pulsed her thighs a couple of times to disrupt the sentence. When I finished though she let go, using her right leg to push me onto my back, pulling her left leg out from under me.

I laid there on my back, dazed and sore. Jane sat on her knees next to me. “Now what should I do to my weak big brother who stands no chance against his little sister?”

“Please Jane,” I pleaded. “No more. I’m done.”

“You may be done but I’m just getting warmed up. These squeezes are a good workout for my legs.” She jumped onto my sore belly, slamming the air out of me in a rush. She straddled me, looking down at me, in no state to resist. “So we’re not done until I say we’re done.” I moaned, making her snicker evilly.

She chewed her lip thoughtfully, while I braced myself. Jane suddenly spun around, spread her legs out behind her, and used them to scoop up my head in a tight reverse scissors. I made a high-pitched ‘eeee’ sound which she found hysterical. She pulled my legs into a triangle shape so she could rest her chest on my thighs.

My eyes were watering from the tightness of the hold. She looked back at me, smirking. “What a nice shade of red. But I like blue more.” She tightened up. My soft core had been no match for her thighs; my neck was being completely blown out of the water. I tried desperately to pull her legs apart, even slacken the pressure just a bit before my head exploded. I tried to roll over, hoping that would help, but she kept me firmly in place.

I tapped and she relaxed her grip slightly. “Kiss my ass,” she ordered.

“What? No.” She slammed on the pressure, crushing my neck between her oh-so-powerful legs, until I could swear my eyes were about to pop out of my skull. After a minute, or more like an eternity, she relaxed again so I was just in pain, not agony. “Jane,” I rasped weakly. “If there’s anything I’ve done to offend you-oooo!” She cut me off with a pulse of her thighs.

“The only thing you’ve done to offend me is not kiss my ass like you were instructed. You don’t want to offend me again, do you?”

I didn’t want to go through that again. If that was the price of avoiding it, I guess I would just have to do it. I stretched my lips…but couldn’t reach. Jane didn’t take kindly to the delay. She poured on the pressure again, rocking from side to side as she did, taking me along for the ride.

After another eternal minute, she relaxed again. “I thought you were smart, Daniel. You’re clearly no match for me. I can do whatever I want to you and you can’t stop me. So why not just accept it? I’ll hurt you less.”

I noticed the word ‘less’ but I was in no position to protest. “I can’t reach it,” I moaned. She looked back at me. Her thighs held me trapped firmly in place, but far enough down so that my lips couldn’t reach her butt.

“Well, I can fix that,” she said. She loosened her grip on my head, reached back and grabbed my hair to pull my head forward. Simultaneously she transitioned into a reverse figure-four scissor, scooting backward a bit too. Now my face was right up next to it, her massive glutes eclipsing most of my field of vision. “No more excuses. Get kissing.”

I closed my eyes. This was gross. I really didn’t want to do this but the alternatives were even worse. I kissed her on the left cheek. “Good. Now the other.” I did. “Now keep going and don’t discriminate.” Reluctantly I obeyed, kissing her ass, alternating between each cheek. She cackled. “Look at you, forced to kiss your little sister’s ass after she kicked yours.” She held up her phone to take a selfie. I paused in alarm but a quick squeeze brought me back to obedience as she snapped some photos. “Very nice,” she said, looking them over.

Then her phone rang. “Oh, it’s Bethany.” That was one of her best friends, a fellow member of the school volleyball team and cheerleading squad. Without warning, she shoved my face deep into her ass. My mouth was completely smothered by the mounds of flesh. My nose was wedged tight into her crack, although I could breathe, pulling in air that smelled a bit of sweat and cherry-scented perfume. Thankfully nothing worse. I was already trying not to gag. Her glutes and thighs enveloped my head, her right calf keeping me from pulling back. I was completely locked in place. “Just to make sure you stay where you belong,” she said before answering the phone.

I have no idea how long she talked. There was no clock in my limited viewing area. All I could see was her muscled butt and powerful backside. It’s hard to tell time when your only frame of reference is the female body keeping you imprisoned. I have no idea what she and Bethany talked about either; my ears were covered by her thighs, the thick powerful muscles serving as quite an effective muffler. During the conversation she occasionally started rocking her hips, taking me along helplessly for the ride, but mostly I just lay there, my face buried in my sister’s ass, held there by my sister’s powerful legs. I just couldn’t believe how thoroughly I was under her control. Jane kept me trapped the whole time she talked, and you know how teenage girls can talk and talk and talk.

Finally she hung up, gave her hips and me another little rock, and let me go. My head flopped down onto the floor as she rolled off me, turning to sit on her knees next to me.

Then she jumped on me again, dropping her butt right onto my stomach, straddling me again. “Not again,” I moaned. “Please Jane, let me go.”

She pinned my arms. “No,” she giggled. “If you want to be free, you’re just going to have to overpower your little sister. Shouldn’t be that hard.” I bucked, trying to throw her off. I tried rolling but her legs kept me firmly in place. I bucked some more but all I achieved was sliding her up my chest. In a minute her crotch was up against my chin. She coiled her legs around my shoulders so that my arms were trapped between her thighs and calves and clamped her thighs to the side of my head, squeezing my face. It was a textbook schoolgirl pin.

She pulled out her phone and took some more pictures. “You look cute down there, big brother. I think this is where you belong, trapped, controlled, dominated by your little sister.”

“Now just a minute!” I protested. “This has gone on long enough.” This was most definitely not where I belonged.

“You talk too much. I’m just going to have to shut you up.” She scooted forward and sat on my face.

This was ridiculous! My little sister had pinned me down and was now smothering me with a facesit! This was even more embarrassing than the forced ass-kissing. Having my face wedged into her ass while she gabbed with her friend was a bit more, but this was still humiliating. My little sister really could do anything she wanted to me and I couldn’t stop her.

The humiliation was bad but lack of oxygen was a more immediate concern. My squirming was, as usual, useless, so soon I was forced to tap. She lifted off, allowing me to take in one big gulp of air, and then plopped back down on my face. She rocked side to side some, rubbing herself in my face to emphasize her superiority. When I tapped again she let me have one breath and then back to the smothering. She did it six or seven times; it was hard to keep track.

Finally she shifted back to the schoolgirl pin, although she pressed her pelvis down on my throat so breathing was still constricted. She grinned down at me. “I’m having loads of fun.” I didn’t respond.

She looked up at the clock which I couldn’t see. “It’s just after 2.” My eyes widened. That meant she’d been beating me up for close to two hours. “That means the parents should be home any second now.”

“Please let me go, Jane. Please. I’ll do anything you want.”

“I want to keep beating you up.”

“Please!” I thought I might burst into tears but I held back, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

“Shush. I’m keeping you here until the parents come home and that’s final.” Speak of the devil, I could hear the sounds of someone unlocking the door. Jane could too. She looked down at me, grinning evilly. I thought about struggling, but didn’t see any point. It was all of no use. Like it or not, I was under Jane’s control. A moment later my dad and stepmom came into the living room to see me trapped helplessly underneath my little sister.
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Old 24-Dec-17, 13:40
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ddelurker ddelurker is offline
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Default Re: How I Became a Plaything

Great story! i am looking forward to part two.
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Old 24-Dec-17, 14:01
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Wow! This story is off to a fantastic start. Thank you so much, mate.
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Old 26-Dec-17, 07:39
Alexios Alexios is offline
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Part Two: The Parents

“Jane, what in the world are you doing?” It was my stepmom, Francesca, speaking. My head was firmly wedged between Jane’s thighs so I couldn’t look at my parents, not that I wanted to. This patch of ceiling was just so fascinating….

Though if one could look at Francesca, it was clear from where Jane got her looks. She was in her mid-thirties, an even six feet tall, with a lean figure that came from her running at least thirty miles a week. Her hair though was black, running straight and long down to her shoulder blades, with brown eyes.

“Oh, just beating Daniel in a wrestling match,” she answered.

“Are you alright, Daniel?” That was my dad talking. He was three inches shorter than his new wife, a non-athletically inclined man in his early fifties, with some natural muscles but under fat, albeit evenly distributed so he only had a bit of a beer belly. What was left of his hair was mostly gray, although on top his hair state was mostly ‘nonexistent’.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, determined to continue my thorough analysis of this particular section of ceiling.

Jane giggled. “He’s just upset that he lost.”

“Well, he shouldn’t be,” my dad replied, a clunk sounding as he set something down on the kitchen counter.

My eyes bulged out in shock, but I don’t think nearly as much as Jane’s. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. I would think any guy would be mortified to be beaten up by his little sister.”

“Usually, but most guys’ little sisters are smaller and weaker than them. That’s not the case here. Daniel’s a smart lad, but he’s no Chuck Norris.” A pause. “No offense, Daniel.”

My face was getting even redder. I’d been beaten up by my little sister, and my dad wasn’t even surprised!

“You’re not going to pull some macho thing about how no man can ever be beaten by a woman?” Francesca asked, but her tone was teasing. A part of me wondered if they’d had this kind of conversation before.

Another clunk on the counter. “Anybody who says that is an idiot. Being a guy is a natural boost in that regard, certainly, but skill, training, exercise can make for much bigger boosts. Plus men and women vary a lot. There’s no shame in being beaten by someone taller, bigger, and more athletic. Gender is, or should be, irrelevant.”

“Wow,” Jane said. “I’m surprised. That’s very reasonable of you.”

“Well, I had to attract your mother somehow. I’m not exactly Mr. Sexy, I’m afraid.”

Francesca laughed. “I think you’re Mr. Sexy anyway.” Big kiss-smack.

My dad laughed. “Can I have that in writing?”

“Certainly,” she purred. Even then, I suspected that the writing medium was not going to be pen and paper.

“Excellent,” my dad replied. A pause. “Now where did that…thing end up?” he said.

“Uh, I think it’s in this bag over here…” There was the sounds of bags rustling, another thing clunking on the counter, something else falling onto the floor with a mild thunk and then said thing rolling around on the linoleum kitchen floor for a while. I’m not sure how long it lasted, no more than a minute I think, since I was too busy continuing ceiling analysis and ignoring Jane’s smirk looking down on me. My arms were now numb from my biceps being continually compressed between her calves and thighs.

“Oh, are you two still doing that?” Francesca said. “I think you can let him up now, Jane.”

“But he hasn’t admitted I won yet.”

“That’s not true!” I protested. Jane flexed her thighs slightly, not much, but enough to dig a bit into my neck and make the last word come out with a bit of a squeak.

“Daniel, that’s not very nice,” Francesca protested. “Calling your sister a liar.” NOT NICE! I wanted to scream. After all the things she’d done to ME, I was the one being told that what I was doing was not nice. But my dignity was long gone, I didn’t want to give it rocket boosters by admitting what exactly she’d been doing to me before the parents had come home. So I kept my mouth shut. “Now Daniel, I want you to apologize to your sister for calling her a liar.”

Silence. “Daniel, listen to your mom.” That was my dad. I really had no allies here.

“Jane,” I said. “I apologize for implying you were a liar.” It was a token gesture of defiance, but at this point I’d take any small victory I could get.

“Apology accepted, big brother. It’s alright; I understand that you’re upset right now.” I silently snarled back at her.

“Well I’m glad that’s resolved,” Francesca said. “Now Daniel, congratulate your sister on her victory and she’ll let you go.” I didn’t say anything.

“Now Daniel,” my dad chimed in. “There’s no reason to be a bad sport about it. She beat you in a fair fight.” A pause. “It was a fair fight?”

“Of course,” Jane said. “Absolutely. Just ask Daniel.” She looked at me.

I thought about claiming she’d sucker-kicked me in the balls at the start. That’d restore at least some dignity to me and maybe I’d finally get some male solidarity support from my dad. Then Jane gave me a look that clearly said ‘I know where you live’. “It was a fair fight,” I mumbled.

“Good. So go on and congratulate her. It’s always good to be gracious in defeat.”

I sighed, thinking that if I just toughed it out a little bit longer this would finally all be over. “Jane, you win. Congratulations,” I muttered.

“I couldn’t hear that,” Francesca said. NOBODY ASKED YOU! I screamed in my mind. “It didn’t sound very gracious.”

“I agree,” my dad said. “Try again.”

Another sigh. “Jane, you win. Congratulations on your victory.” It was audible this time at least.

Jane smiled innocently. “Thank you, big brother. It means a lot.” She got off of me and stood up. A moment later I did too, instinctively rubbing some feeling into my arms and getting a smirk from Jane in response.

“Now shake hands,” my dad said. “And we’ll call that the end.”

“Agreed,” Jane said, holding out her right hand. I really didn’t want to, but knew I needed to look like less of a sour grape right now. I reached out and took it, managing to avoid a wince as Jane’s hand, which I just noticed was slightly larger than mine, crushed mine in her grip. “It was a good match.” Her left lip, the side of her face that was hidden from our parents, was smirking even more. I nodded curtly, she let go, and I immediately reversed, fast-walking out of there, resisting the urge to run to my room.

When I got in, I closed the door, clenched my fists, and resisted the urge to scream in frustration and/or start smashing things. Taking deep breaths through my nose, I finally calmed down. ‘Well, this has been the shittiest Saturday ever’, I thought. ‘But it’s over now. Jane had her fun and now she’s done. Let’s just put this behind us, move on, and try to forget this little incident ever took place’. That seemed like a good plan. And then I realized I’d left my book downstairs.

I opened the door slightly, glancing around to see if anyone was nearby. I really was not in the mood to deal with anyone in my family right now. Going downstairs, my book was still sitting there on the arm of the recliner but Jane and parents were nowhere in sight. Sighing in relief, I grabbed it and headed back, again resisting the urge to run.

Right next to the top of the stairs was the upstairs bathroom, the door slightly ajar. Going right was Jane’s room and to the left was mine. I’d just turned left when the bathroom door opened and someone grabbed me, slammed me face-first against the wall, making me drop my book in the process, and twist my right arm up behind my back up between my shoulder blades.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Jane whispered in my ear. I struggled, trying to push back, but her larger stronger body had me pinned. “I think I’ll make it a daily thing.” Before I could protest, she let me go and stepped back into the bathroom, closing the door all the way this time.

‘So much for putting this behind us,’ I moaned silently. Bending down I picked up my book and then saw my stepmother standing in the door frame of Jane’s room, looking at me.
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Old 26-Dec-17, 08:45
james james is offline
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Great story!
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Old 26-Dec-17, 13:23
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Originally Posted by Alexios [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
“I had a lot of fun today,” Jane whispered in my ear. I struggled, trying to push back, but her larger stronger body had me pinned. “I think I’ll make it a daily thing.”
I was so glad to read this line. Thank you so much for this very exciting story, mate. I'm really looking forward to more of his sister's domination.
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Old 28-Dec-17, 02:46
Alexios Alexios is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mixfightor [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
I was so glad to read this line. Thank you so much for this very exciting story, mate. I'm really looking forward to more of his sister's domination.
I'm glad you're enjoying this. Don't worry; there's lots more to come. Unlike my usual stories I have a semi-planned out story arc with beginning, middle, and end, and right now we're still in the 'beginning' stage.

---

Part Three: Francesca

It had been twenty four hours, give or take a few minutes, since it had happened, and I was really hungry. I’d hidden in my room after the brief run-in with Jane at the top of the stairs the rest of the day, only emerging for dinner with the family. To my great relief the conversation had been on other things, although on what exactly I can’t tell. I focused on inhaling my food and getting out of there.

But then after using the bathroom in preparation for going to bed I’d stepped out to see Jane standing in the doorframe of her room, her light casting her face in partial shadow. She was dressed in her pajamas but she rolled up her sleeve, flexed her right bicep, a taut firm baseball, and then kissed it. Looking at me, our eyes met and she smirked, then pointing at my head, and then pointing at the gap between her legs. “Tomorrow, big brother.”

I’d spent the entire next morning in my room, not willing to come out. But now with the hour hand creeping past noon the demands of my stomach were becoming increasingly hard to ignore. Finally I mustered up the courage, heading for the kitchen. I was at the bottom of the stairs when I remembered that Dad would be on the other side of town; he spent every other Sunday afternoon with guy friends. Now while he hadn’t been any help yesterday, he wasn’t a threat, unlike Jane, and what was with that look from Francesca? But I was already this far so just kept going.

I quickly gathered up a really large snack, bundling it up in a paper towel when I suddenly heard footsteps. I wheeled around, my heart racing and climbing up into my throat. It was Francesca, wearing a t-shirt and running shorts that left most of her thighs bare. I took a slight sigh of relief. “Hello, Daniel. How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” I muttered.

She nodded. “I can understand that. We need to talk about yesterday.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I understand that too but we still need to talk.”

“I said I’d rather not,” I replied, snarl creeping into my voice at the end. All I wanted was to be left alone. Was that too much to ask?

Francesca shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” Before I fully registered that statement, her right hand clamped down on my wrist and she started dragging me into the living room. I tried to resist, digging in my heels, but a sharp yank overcome that impediment. She was bigger and stronger than Jane by quite a bit so I really didn’t stand any chance. When we got to the living room Francesca yanked me forward and let go, making me stagger forward a few more steps but I kept my balance.

I wheeled around. “I don’t want to talk, Francesca,” I snarled. I knew she didn’t care for me using her first name but despite my dad’s wishes I wasn’t calling her mom. My real Mom had died of cancer when I was thirteen and she wouldn’t have done anything like this to me, or let Jane do those sorts of things.

“I’m not going to ask you to call me Mom again,” she said. “I understand you’re not ready for that. But I married your father and that makes you my son as far as I’m concerned.”

“Fine. Then leave me alone.” I tried to walk around her to get to the stairs but she blocked my exit.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Whatever. Then how does it work?”

“Fight me.”

“What?”

“I said, fight me.”

“No!” I was thinking my step family needed psych exams or something.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Again, no. Enough with this fight club stuff already.”

“Have it your way.” I sighed, thinking this whole weird exchange was over…when she suddenly grabbed me in a bearhug, her arms pinning my arms to my sides as she lifted me over a foot into the air and squeezed me hard in my midsection, her biceps digging deep into my arms. They felt bigger than Jane’s.

Then she let go suddenly, tossing me forward onto the floor onto my back. She dropped down on top of me, slamming the air out of me. It was a good thing this had happened before I’d eaten that huge snack. “I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me,” I wheezed as she lay on top of me.

“Sorry, came down a bit harder than intended. And to be more accurate I should’ve said I won’t hurt you much.” She pinned my arms up above my head and scooted forward. I tried to buck her off or lift my arms but I couldn’t lift a dead weight of that size, much less a woman with arms definitely bigger than Jane’s; in this case ‘twice my size’ looked to be an accurate observation. After just a few seconds she had me in a schoolgirl pin, my arms pinned above my head by her legs, hands flailing uselessly as she let go of her handgrip on my wrists.

“I’d save my strength if I were you,” she said as I tried to squirm some more anyway. “Even disregarding leverage, you couldn’t get Jane off and she’s 150 and I’m 190.” I couldn’t deny the logic so I settled down. She had been wearing her hair in a ponytail and some of it was now escaping so she took the opportunity to fix it, taking her time and ignoring me pinned under her.

“What’s all this about?” I asked, this time keeping my annoyance out of my voice.

“It’s simple. You’re a sixteen year old boy, almost seventeen, almost a man, and both your little sister and your stepmom have been able to beat you up without breaking a sweat. That’s a problem.”

“Seems easy solution to me. You could just not beat me up and tell Jane not to do it. There. Problem solved.”

“That’d just be treating a symptom. The problem is that while you’re smart, you’re weak. I don’t mean that as an insult, but as a statement. The problem is that in the real world, the strong will take advantage of the weak. And in the real world you can’t rely on someone just ordering the problem away. So I’m not going to tell Jane to stop beating you up. If you want her to stop, you’re going to have to find some way to make her stop. Adversity builds character.” I really wanted to make a comment that taking parenting advice from the Dad in Calvin & Hobbes hardly sounded like a good idea but kept my mouth shut.

“I see you’re having fun with him too,” Jane said. ‘Where did she come from?’ I thought. And ‘should’ve gone with the starvation route’. I couldn’t see her. Francesca wasn’t sitting squarely on my face as Jane had, but my head was firmly sandwiched between her thighs which swelled so much that they blocked any side vision I might have. Francesca’s upper body loomed over me, blocking any view forward. But hearing Jane’s voice made me glad I was pinned under my stepmother. She hadn’t hurt me nearly as much, yet, and as long as I was here I was safe from Jane.

“Ah, good timing, Jane,” Francesca said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you some more about yesterday. There do need to be some rules.”

“You said it was alright yesterday!”

“I did. I was just telling Daniel that I’m not going to tell you to stop. That he needs to learn to fight his own battles. But there still needs to be some restrictions.”

“Alright, fine. What are there?”

“First obviously, no medical bills unless you want to be paying for college all out of your own pocket and never want to see an allowance again. I also don’t want any awkward calls from school or anyone else. So no marks and you leave Daniel alone in public.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m not finished. I don’t want you to do anything to him while your father is around. He was okay with it the first time but I don’t want to make it an issue.” That wasn’t as helpful as it sounded. Since his business worked a lot with the west coast, he worked a 9 to 6 rather than 8 to 5, meaning that there were at least three hours between end of school and his end of work. Plus he had biweekly business trips to the west coast as well, so he was gone every other week with few exceptions, including the weekends. And then on the Sundays he was in town he was off with his guy friends from late morning to dinner time. “You’re responsible for your chores, no making him do yours. Strength is no excuse for laziness. You’re to stay out of his room.” That was good since there wasn’t a lock on it. “And finally no more than an hour a day. He does have schoolwork after all.”

“Alright, I can do those. So are you done with him? I feel like doing my hour now.”

“No. There’ll be the occasional day when I’ll want him and it’s not fair to double-team him. So when that happens you’re to leave him alone that day, but the day after that you can have him for two hours to make up for it. And I want him today.”

“I can work with that. The girls were asking if I wanted to hang today so I’ll just do that instead.” She leaned over me so that now I could see her grinning evilly. “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, big brother.” I swallowed. Francesca kept me pinned there and a few minutes later Jane called out “Love you, mom, see you later!” The door opened and closed after that.

“Can you let me go?” I asked. My arms above where her thighs had been crushing them were numb.

She nodded, lifting up a bit and scooting back. I sighed in relief, pulling my hands forward…and then she suddenly rolled over, legs snapping back to catch my head in a reverse head scissor. She cinched it up, her flexing thighs swelling to an extent that made Jane’s seem merely decent in comparison. My head felt like it was going to explode and I pulled desperately, her thighs expanding until well over half my head was enveloped. My two arms combined didn’t even make up one half of one of her thighs. I tapped desperately and she mercifully relaxed, although keeping me firmly trapped.

“This is a continuation of the lesson, Daniel. If you don’t find a way to solve your problems, you’re going to be forced to do things in real life that will be much more unpleasant than what I’m going to make you do. Now you’re going to massage me and keep massaging me until I tell you to stop. Stop before then and we’ll go back to the squeeze. I don’t think you want that.”

I didn’t so I reached up and started massaging her upper back. This was not how I wanted to spend my weekend. My annoyance showed in a slacking of my efforts and she responded with a flex of her thighs. “I said not to stop.” I sighed and resumed.

It wasn’t a good massage. I didn’t know what I was doing, starting out by just pressing areas in a semi-random fashion although I did soon establish a pattern. It helped a little but not much. She had smooth soft skin but solid muscle rippling beneath the surface, muscle which was unimpressed by the pressure my fingers brought to bear. “Press harder,” Francesca ordered.

“I’m pressing as hard as I can.”

She sighed. “Very well. Just keeping doing your best. You’ll get better with practice.” I did for a little while longer, trying not to focus on what my little sister and stepmom were doing to me. Given the surroundings it was quite hard, especially since my distraction promptly earned me a punishment flex from Francesca. But then she squeezed one more, suddenly, and held it. Somehow it felt different but yet not painful, the way her powerful muscles compressed my neck like it was nothing…

“Wait, what just happened?” I asked, blinking furiously.

“I knocked you out with my legs.”

“Wow.” That was all I could think of.

“You sound impressed.”

“I…am.” I obviously had to accept that my little sister and stepmom both sorely outclassed me in terms of strength, but this was something else. “But you could not do that, please? My brain’s my best feature and I’d like to keep it.”

“Certainly. I wouldn’t want to damage that.” I blinked, surprised that actually worked.

Francesca rolled off me to my right, sitting on the ground next to but perpendicular to me, her legs bent and facing towards me. I sat up, taking a moment to rub my skull. Francesca grabbed my right arm, yanked me towards her, and clamped her thighs around my midsection, pulling me closer and rolling me onto her back. She squeezed, a steel bar squashing my belly, then relaxed and changed her legs into a figure-four body-scissor. “I thought you were done having fun at my expense,” I moaned. Her thighs rippled, pressing firmly but not excruciatingly. My abs were already crumbling and I knew she was barely even in warmup stage.

“Well, I do have to admit I am having fun. But I am doing this to help teach you some lessons.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Adversity builds character. This is all supposed to help make me tougher or something.”

“That’s part of it, but not all. You see, sometimes something you see as a problem can come to be a blessing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She cinched the figure-four a bit tighter. “It’s really nice doing this with you. I can make this hold nice and tight; I can’t really do that with your father.”

“My father?”

“Oh, yes. I do stuff like this all the time with him and he loves it. Do you know where he got that from?”

“Not a clue.”

“His older sister beat him up a lot when he was a kid.” My eyes bugged out; I had a hard time picturing sweet Aunt Mary doing that. “He hated it and was quite happy when he turned 13 and got big enough to fight her off. And yet, he discovered that then he enjoyed it. So what he had previously hated was now something he wanted. Jane’s father was the same way.”

“So you’re saying I should just learn to like this.”

“I’m saying that is a possibility you should consider.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good, while you’re thinking about that…” She flexed her thighs, squeezing my midsection flat, relaxed, hammered it with three hard flexes, and then another squeeze that felt like she was cutting me in half. I gasped as my abs failed under the onslaught. My hand reached out to tap. “Don’t!” Francesca shouted, but didn’t relax the pressure. “Hold for five more seconds!” She squeezed a bit more, although her face and body showed not the slightest hint of strain. But I held for those five agonizing eternal seconds, finally slapping the side of her thigh. The muscle was so huge that my hand, fully outstretched, was almost completely flat against it, only the tips of my fingers starting to trace the curve.

She immediately let go. I moaned in relief. “I’m proud of you, Daniel,” she said.

“What…for?” I rasped.

“You lasted for those extra five seconds.”

“It’s just five seconds and for you it wasn’t much effort your squeezing.”

“True but you still managed to take one step forward. That’s good.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.” She slid her leg out from under me and stood up, blocking the light. I must’ve cringed. “Don’t worry, Daniel, I’m done with you for today. Now I’m going to change and then I’ll make you sausage and pasta for lunch instead of that snack.” It wasn’t the fanciest of cuisine but it was my favorite.

She started walking out of the living room. I sat up. “Francesca, why?”

She turned back toward me. “I told you. Though you don’t call me that, as far as I’m concerned I’m your mother.”
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Old 28-Dec-17, 13:05
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Default Re: How I Became a Plaything

Jane is going to have so much fun with Daniel. I can't wait to read about it. Thank you so much, Alexios. This story is excellent.
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This is really, really good. Appreciate you sharing it with us!
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Old 01-Jan-18, 03:55
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Default Re: How I Became a Plaything

Part Four: A Week in the Life

Monday: Douglas Adams said that the key to flying is to forget to hit the ground. I still need to work on that part. Jane seemed to be trying to make me fly today, tossing me over her hip onto the ground, flipping me over her shoulder, and generally throwing me around the living room. I tried to push her back and got a girlish giggle (how’s that for emasculating?) and a more violent than usual hip-toss that bounced me onto the couch, over the back, and then flopping to the ground behind it. While I lay on my back, dazed and asking the world to please stop rotating so fast, she walked around, grabbed me by the front collar of my shirt, hauled me up, and then tossed me over it again.

As a slight salve to my ego, the effort of hurling my skinny butt around so much had actually caused my bully Amazon little sister to exert herself. Breathing a bit heavily and with a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, she picked me up just to hurl me down again on my back, this time with her right arm clamped in a headlock around my neck. Adjusting so that her sweaty armpit covered my mouth, she didn’t even acknowledge my hand tugging on her left shoulder trying to pull her back. Instead she wiped her sweaty forehead with her free hand, spreading it on my forehead. Then she rolled up her t-shirt to expose her armpit and made me a deal, I would get to breathe, sometimes, provided I licked said sweaty armpit. I agreed and she apparently liked it so much I had to do the other one as well.

Tuesday: Today was a return to Jane’s regular programming, AKA squeezing me flat between her thighs. She should try it with computer files; she gets a good compression ratio. Obviously, sarcasm is my coping mechanism as my little sister punishes me with her vastly superior body.

Her favorite is the reverse headscissor, probably because she can exert the maximum pressure through it, mashing my face up against her butt and rocking her body from side to side and often softly singing some nursery rhyme. But while she can hear the gurgling from my crushed throat and feel my plaintive pulls on her thighs, she can’t get a good look at my face as she tortures me.

For that she usually goes for the bodyscissors. My abs are able to put up at least a tiny bit of resistance against her thighs at the beginning and she enjoys the feeling of gently flexing her thighs, slowly overwhelming me, and then brutalizing my defenseless innards with long brutal squeezes and sharp pulses. I’m the perfect size for her figure-four bodyscissors, much to Jane’s delight, and she’ll swing me around in them to showcase her superiority, sometimes holding me suspended in midair as her thighs continue her ravaging. Occasionally she’ll throw in a neck choke at the same time, but mostly she prefers to lean back and watch my reactions to her leggy dominance.

She’s a fan of figure-fours in general, also trapping me often in regular figure-four headscissors. She loves the gurgling I make when my neck is crushed by her power; apparently my bodyscissor noises aren’t quite the same. She’s becoming quite the connoisseur of the noises I make as she dominates me, her favorite being the squeaks when she gives the first sharp squeeze against my neck.

While keeping me trapped in the figure-four she’ll sometimes draw letters on my forehead and make me guess them. If I’m wrong she punishes me. If I’m right she punishes me for ruining her game.

The one scissor she doesn’t care for is the classic headscissor. I’ve figured out that if I can uncross her ankles it relieves the pressure and I’ve managed it a few times. Jane immediately re-crosses them and I’ve never gotten anywhere close to escaping but blocking my resistance annoys her. Today though she did do it, then used my impudence to justify punishing me with a drawn-out reverse headscissor that brought me to the brink of unconsciousness four times. She dialed back the pressure when I was on the edge, gave me a brief time to recover (although not letting me out), and then back to the squeeze.

Wednesday: Today was a more relaxed day. Jane was having some trouble with geometry homework so Francesca offered to help her. I spent most of the study session under the table, trapped in my sister’s headscissor, face up tight against her jean-covered crotch, her muscular calves pressing into my back. Francesca knew I was there since near the end she had Jane haul me out and then my little sister and stepmom scissored me in various ways to help illustrate angles for Jane.

Thursday: While yesterday she wore jeans her ‘wrestling outfit’, as she’s started calling it, is the same as the one she was wearing when she started beating me, a t-shirt and short tight workout shorts. Jane says she likes the closer contact this outfit allows, feeling my body crumpling under her firm muscles without thick denim in the way.

She doesn’t wear the wrestling clothes on the way home from school; it’s already too cool for that. She changes into them first thing getting home, sometimes whispering a threat in my ear as we walk out of school. I hid in my room one time while she changed, planning on staying in there until Dad got home, but Francesca ruined that plan. She came in and told me that hiding wasn’t the solution to my problems. I could either present myself in the living room for Jane’s beatings or Francesca would rescind the ‘don’t go into your brother’s room’ rule and might up the time Jane would be allowed to dominate me every day. I went with presenting myself.

So now I find myself in a classic headscissor but this time with me facing her, my neck pressed up tight against her crotch, my chin resting on it, while she lay on the floor on her left side. She squeezed, enough to cut off my breathing but not as hard as she’s done before, and leaned back to watch me struggling for air. “I love watching you, trapped and helpless in my grip. My big, big brother,” she said, patting me patronizingly on the head. “You can’t stop your little sister from owning you over and over again. How does that feel?” She tightened her squeeze a bit more, making me gurgle. “Oh, right, your feelings don’t matter. I’m in charge and I’m…just…going…to keep…squeeze…ing.” With each word she ratcheted up the pressure a bit more. My legs were flailing, my hands pulling desperately at her taut thighs. She yawned. “Pathetic.” I passed out.

When I came to I was in the same position although Jane was gripping me loosely. “Sleepy time doesn’t count to the hour, big brother.” She pressed my face up against her abdomen, smothering me while again tightening her scissors. I spent the rest of the hour there, dependent on my sister for air as she kept me trapped.

Friday: This was a bit different than usual. Jane caught me in an armbar but rather than applying full pressure with it, thankfully, she instead smothered my face with the back of her left knee, using her slightly bent calf and thigh muscles to keep me in place. When I was about to pass out from lack of air she released the hold, rolled over, and trapped me in a crossbody pin, her legs pulverizing my left arm scissored between them while she pinned my right with her upper body. Then she smothered me with her stomach, giving me a breath every ten seconds. I turned my head to the right to stop more smothering but she scooted forward, using her rib cage to hook the side of my face, then pushed back to carry my face to where it was pointed up again, and then plopped down her stomach on my face again. She kept me there until I passed out.

When I woke up I was still on my back while she was sitting on my chest. Forcing her toes into my mouth as deep as she could, she made me suck on her toes and clean them with my tongue, ordering me to make sure I got the space in between the toes as well. The texture was rough and they tasted salty; I wanted to gag but was too scared of what Jane would do to me to try.

Saturday: She put on her wrestling outfit but I’m not sure why. I spent the whole time in one hold. Saturdays can be a free day for me but Dad was on one of his west coast trips so no luck for me.

I spent the whole hour trapped in a reverse figure-four headscissor, my face mashed up against her butt, my nose in her crack, while she talked on the phone with one of her friends. Sensory perception is barely possible in there. I can’t smell anything other than Jane; fortunately she is a very clean girl so I don’t have too much to worry about there but towards the end the close physical contact and lack of ventilation makes the air sweaty. With her thighs clamped around my ears it is near impossible to hear anything and the rounded glutes block out most of my vision. Jane’s also made it very clear that when she does this, my hands are to remain on her thighs, to help me remember what she has that ensures she’ll always win.

Sunday: I escaped my sister’s clutches today by falling into those of my stepmother, who claimed me for today. She’s gentler with me than Jane but there’s no time limit on how long she can play with me so I’m not sure if it’s an improvement.

We started with the usual, her trapping me in a reverse headscissor and then ordering me to massage her back. I don’t even try to resist Francesca even though I will sometimes with Jane. When I do with my sister, she’s usually more amused than annoyed. If that’s the response I get with a girl who has an inch and 25 pounds of muscle on me, why even bother against a woman who has 5 inches and 65 pounds of muscle on me? I do seem to be getting a bit better at massages though which makes Francesca happy but that also means I’m kept trapped longer.

After ending the massage Francesca crushed my midsection with her thighs that are the size of my rib cage, making me submit to her half a dozen times. She’s a fan of the bodyscissors, especially the figure-four, jerking her legs around with me trapped helplessly in her grip.

Then she put some DVD in, starting up some chick flick. Insisting on some mother-son bonding time she sat on the couch, keeping me trapped in a figure-four headscissor so that I was forced to watch. I had to keep both my hands on her right calf, the one that pressed against my throat, and she cut my air off periodically when I failed to do keep both hands up.

“What’d you think of the movie?” she asked as the credits started to roll after two mind-numbing hours, but she didn’t let me go.

“Not enough aliens.”

She chuckled. “Fair enough. What’d you think of the cheating boyfriend?”

“Complete tool. His girlfriend should’ve beaten him up. She could’ve too.” I blinked, surprised to hear myself say that.

Francesca patted me on the head and uncoiled her legs. “You’re doing well.”

At the end of the day I got out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed. I stepped out into the hallway only to be grabbed and slammed up face-first against the wall, Jane’s arms locking around my neck in a rear naked choke. I squirmed furiously. This wasn’t fair; I was supposed to be free of Jane for the day. But Francesca wasn’t around to free me and I couldn’t break my little sister’s grip. She slowly strangled me until I felt myself on the verge of passing out.

But on the verge she let go and stepped back. I collapsed on the floor on my stomach, my chest heaving as I sucked in air. She grabbed the back of my shirt, lifting me up enough to clamp her calves around the sides of my neck, and started doing calf raises. With every flex her powerful muscles cut into my neck, constricting the flow of air I desperately needed after the choke. Almost immediately I could feel my consciousness slipping. “Two hours tomorrow, big brother,” she sang and then let me go to collapse on the floor again.

And so another week begins…
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