Sisterly Love

"Sister"ly Love

Sam plodded down the stairs the afternoon of New Year's Eve, all ready to go meet her friend. She never wore make-up, her few teenage experiments with it having been disastrous, and her dishwater-blond hair was tied back in its habitual plain braid despite her mother's constant insistence that it would look so pretty if you styled it right! Sam wasn't especially interested in prettiness, at least where her own appearance was concerned. She walked into the living room to find her mother and sister following a yoga tutorial video, neither being particularly proficient. Sam didn't want to interrupt so said nothing, but she lingered for a moment too long, enraptured. Maddie, her sister, had her chestnut curls tied up in a messy ponytail that draped over her shoulder as she relaxed into a cat-cow. In a sports bra and yoga pants, the curve of her bare back drew Sam's eye, so smooth and inviting. Her voluptuous legs were highlighted by the form-fitting nylon, and without conscious thought, Sam ran her thumb over her fingers, an unsatisfactory replacement for caressing that tempting fabric. Sam would never admit to these feelings, and in fact had concealed them even from herself. But her twenty-two year old sister was the most gorgeous creature in the world, and Sam couldn't bear the thought of a life without seeing her every day. The pose changed, and Maddie caught sight of Sam. Her regal face, glittering with sweat, broke into a smile. "Hey, Sammy," she called. "Headed out?" "Yeah, I'm meeting Triana for coffee." The name instantly curdled Maddie's expression. Triana was Sam's only close friend, and she was only in town for the holidays, but Maddie resented any time her sister spent away from her. "Well. Have fun," she deadpanned, suddenly re-focused on her stretch. "Say hi from me!" said their mom, purposefully ignoring Maddie's brattish nature. <><><> Sam and Triana were best friends in high school. They looked about as different as could be, with Sam's sophisticated sense of style comprising entirely of ill-fitted hoodies and jeans while Triana preferred smeared-on black eye shadow, lace collars, and skirts puffed out with homemade petticoats. Nevertheless, they had similar difficulties socializing. After being paired-by-elimination for enough group assignments, they found joy in comparing their similarly dissimilar lives. They attended separate colleges and went on to live in separate states, but they kept in touch. Triana had a homeopathic goods (and tchotchkes) store scraping by in Brooklyn, while Sam stayed at home with her parents and sister, working as a bank teller. For a decade, they talked irregularly, updating each other on any notable events. Triana had numerous partners over the years and an ever-growing supply of friends. Sam did not. Her only friend aside from Triana was her sister. Triana often worried about Sam. So, on the year they both turned twenty-eight, when Triana's boyfriend offered to run the shop for the time between Christmas and New Years, she drove over to Idaho to spend the holidays with her friend. December thirty-first found them in the cafe they'd frequented in high school, sipping lattes. As it regularly had for the past couple years, the conversation turned to Sam and Maddie's largely-theoretical plans to move out together. "Have you and Maddie actually started looking for a place yet?" "No," Sam sighed, despite the time she privately spent scrolling through apartments and daydreaming. "She's soaking up the no-rent lifestyle. I honestly don't know if I'll ever get her out of there." "Your parents are too nice, that's your problem. If they were assholes, you'd both be long gone by now." "It is hard to argue a downside." "Uh, independence? Privacy?" "Bills? Her first time living away from home?" "Listen, we both know moving away would be good for her. If you need to force her hand a little, then do it." "Easy for you to say. She's my little sister, all I want is for her to be comfortable." Triana rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, that's all you want." Sam furrowed her brow, recoiling from something she didn't understand. "Wh--what's that supposed to mean?" Triana sighed, flicking a streak of pitch black hair from her face. "Nothing," Triana said without putting much effort into sounding honest. For as long as they'd known each other, it had been clear to Triana that Sam and Maddie had a... particular sort of relationship. They were close to their parents, sure, and the overall cozy-happy-family dynamic had fooled Triana for a minute, but to know Sam was to know exactly what Maddie was up to at any given time. Every other sentence out of Sam's mouth consisted of Maddie's hopes and dreams and her cutest new dresses. Sam was obsessed with her younger sister, and in return, Maddie made Sam her point of stability. She worked as a freelance artist, which had occasional monetary windfalls, but hardly consistent ones. Sam took her to restaurants and funded her fashion habit without a second thought. Maddie was grateful, sure, but also took everything as her due (precisely as Sam had unwittingly taught her it was). As far as Triana was concerned, Sam and Maddie were soulmates. She only wished that they would ever talk to each other about it. Or maybe that she could give Maddie some perspective on the things her sister did for her. Then, Triana had an idea. "I'll make you a deal," she said. "Tonight, when your family's going around saying their New Year's resolutions, you say that this will be the year you move out." Sam hunched over, unenthused. Triana continued, "You wouldn't be pressuring her directly, and I know the minute you leave, she'll want to follow you. Obviously you would never move without her in the first place, but it's just a resolution. Maybe it'll motivate her a little." Sam shifted, still curled in on herself but visibly considering it. "Well... that might be a good idea." "It is," Triana plainly assured, taking a smug sip of her latte. <><><> When she got back to her hotel room, Triana took stock of what few ingredients she'd brought from her home alchemical lab. She hadn't been planning on any specific spell when packing for this visit, but she liked having options, and she'd been waiting for Sam and Maddie to get their shit together for a long time. Triana gathered a few choice ingredients, filled up her mini-cauldron (good for travel) with tap water, put it on the hotel's crappy stove, and set it boiling. This spell would take a few hours to prepare, and she didn't have much time to waste before midnight. If Sam's resolution was going to achieve anything, Triana would have to have her magic ready in time. She turned down the heat and headed out the door, contemplating what helpful tidbits she might be able to get from the grocery store. <><><> "Three... two... one... happy New Year!" Sam and Maddie's father, Paul, popped open the champagne bottle (sparkling wine, technically) and filled up each of their four glasses. Simone, their mom, kissed him on the cheek in congratulations for not getting foam everywhere. "I think I'll go first with my resolution this year," said Simone, spinning the fizzing drink around her glass. She did, then Paul and Maddie followed suit. Sam half-heard Maddie's art commission goals, but she was terribly busy panicking over what she'd planned to say. It should have been easy--they'd been discussing moving plans for ages, it was no secret. But this was putting a timeline on it in a way that scared her. Or, more accurately, in a way that she worried would scare Maddie. But then they were all looking at her, waiting. She ducked her head, cleared her throat. "What've you got for us, Sammy?" prompted Paul. "This year..." she started, then took a deep breath. "This is the year I'm going to move out." (A fifteen minute drive away, Triana's brew exploded. "Fuck!" she screamed in fright. Then, taking in the potion bits splattered on the walls and ceiling, she groaned, "Fuuuck. Well, this better be worth it.") "That's great!" Simone crooned. "Have you found a place?" Sam raised her eyes, tentatively looking for Maddie's. She found them, wide with surprise. Sam expected it, but damn, how could Maddie be surprised? How many times had they talked about this? "N--not yet," Sam answered, looking down again. "But I've been... putting this off for a while." "You know we're happy to have you here as long as you'd like," Paul smiled. "But we're here to help you however you need." "Thank you," said Sam. "Here's to the new year!" Simone proposed. The four glasses clinked together, and everyone downed their drinks. Sam coughed, the liquid feeling oddly slimey in her throat. But no one else complained, and as Paul poured out more, it looked perfectly normal, so Sam guessed her nerves were simply confusing her even as sweat began to break across her brow. "I uh, I think I'm going to head to bed," she said, standing from the table. "Midnight is pretty late for me." "I never thought I'd live to see my daughter get older than I am," Paul joked. "Get some good rest, honey," Simone chirped. Maddie stared at her, still off-balance, her face frozen. Then, a fragile smile. "Goodnight," she said. "Goodnight," said Sam, just to Maddie. Sam headed to her room, her legs feeling oddly weak. <><><> Sam tossed and turned, finding it impossible to find a comfortable position. Her whole body felt off. Too sweaty, too clumsy, ill-fitting in her own bed. It didn't help that there was an aching pain spreading through her limbs, reminding her much of her first growth spurt during puberty. As she tried to calm her churning mind, her bones seemed to be groaning, everything is wrong, nothing is as it should be, which was exactly how she felt at the moment about her life as a whole. To begin with, it was simply another cause of frustration. But the pain kept spreading. Her hips. Her rib cage. Her fingers, her jaw, fuck, even her organs seemed to be squirming in the discomfort of their shape. "Ohhh, what the hell," she hissed, and quickly discovered that her throat felt raw, like she hadn't drunk any water in weeks. Thinking vaguely of taking any action possible to lessen her pain, Sam slowly propped herself upright on unsteady limbs, and she stumbled on feet that screamed with each step to the hallway bathroom where she shakily filled a glass with water and began to drink. She had five more cups before she could bring herself to stop. Sam panted, trying to catch her breath and blinking blurry eyes at her silhouette in the mirror. The ache in every part of her body persisted, but it had lessened to a slowly-weakening pulse. Just as she was starting to feel steady again, she realized. The silhouette did not look as familiar as it should have. Her heart froze. She noticed the laughter still present downstairs, and she closed the bathroom door, not wanting to draw any attention. She reach out her hand (fingers bumping into the wall sooner than expected), and she switched on the light. For an instant, as her eyes adjusted, she thought perhaps nothing had really changed. Once she could fully take in the image, she stumbled backwards, hands flying to cover her mouth and mute her tiny shriek. She had grown at least half a foot, and her shoulders had broadened along with her hands (and her feet, as she glanced down to see). Her hair was as long as ever, but it had gained some waves, and as her eyes traced its length, she noticed that, where it used to rest on the soft swell of her chest, it now fell perfectly flat. Sam's hands dropped from her face, revealing her newly angular jaw, and she felt out her chest. There were no breasts to speak of. Her nipples were smaller and further apart. She leaned in close to the mirror. There was a shadow of facial hair, like it had been shaved that morning and was making its return. Like it had been growing there for years. Sam began to hyperventilate. <><><> Triana picked up on the forth ring, her hands full as she tried to clean the last of her brew from the ceiling. "What the hell, Triana," came an unfamiliar voice. Triana double checked the caller ID. "Sam?" "I'm sure you were just trying to help, but I need you to undo this now." Definitely Sam; always too forgiving. "Okay, sweetheart, I need you to take a deep breath for me. What happened?" "What do you mean what happened? Didn't you do this?" "Well... I did something, but you sound..." Like a different person?"Listen, don't panic, but I think something may have gone wrong." No response came but the sounds of spiraling anxiety. "The spell shouldn't have been that strong, it was just a sort of for... intention setting." "Intention setting?" Sam wheezed. "Seriously, honey, breathe." She waited until Sam no longer sounded on the brink of passing out. "So... you made your New Year's resolution, right? The one we talked about?" "Yes?" "Okay, so, all my spell should have done was make sure that sometime this year, you'd either achieve the goal or fail. No more putting things off. That's all." Plus, Triana thought, a side order of "make Sam face what she's ignoring." "That's all?" Sam echoed. But maybe she doesn't need to know that. I was kinda overstepping. "Yep," Triana lied. "But... but then..." A sniffle, its sound familiar and different in Triana's ear. Dissolving into tears, Sam choked out, "That means something went really wrong." "Hey, hey, it's okay, honey. I'm sorry about all this, but we'll get it figured out no problem. Now tell me, Sam. What happened?" "I... I..." Sam looked down at herself, her altered body hiding beneath her fluffy, formerly over-sized robe that had become too tight around her shoulders, its length only reaching her knee, as her feet stretched out her favorite red wool socks. "I look like a man, Triana," she whispered. "My whole body is different. I barely fit in my bed. Everything feels so weird." "...Huh. That's interesting." That was not the response Sam had expected. "What?" she pressed. "What does that mean?" "Ah, uh. It sounds like there was a reaction between you and the spell. Question: do you have a dick?" "What?" "I'm going to give you advice, but I need all the information first! Dick or no dick?" Her voice sounding minuscule, Sam answered, "No, um. It's still... that's the same." "Got it. This is my honest advice and I need you to take it seriously." "Okay?" "I think you should masturbate." Incandescent with either rage or horror, Sam couldn't speak. "Sam?" Triana prompted. "Triana, please tell me you're joking." "...Sorry, honey." Sam let out a whimper. "Listen, there's a way these things go. You come, and maybe this will all be over." "Maybe?" A brief pause. "Probably?" "Triana--" "Look, I'm going to hang up. Have some alone time. If it doesn't work, call me back." "Triana, I really don't think--" "It's going to be fine, Sam. Just try to relax, and... enjoy yourself." And her phone beeped, indicating the conversation's end. Sam buried her head in her hands, controlling her breathing but consequently filling her nostrils with her own unfamiliarly masculine scent. Not that it didn't smell good. She stroked calming patterns over her arms, now dusted in soft hairs that she found comfortable under her fingertips. As her mind slowed and turned over Triana's suggestion, she realized that she was, under all the anxiety, aroused. There was that pressure low in her gut, an awareness of her clit hard and slick from desire. Maybe this was the spell telling her what it needed. She stood from where she'd curled up on the floor, approached the bed on clumsy legs, and positioned herself how she always did for moments like these: head propped up, knees spread. She opened her robe and took in the sight. If Triana was right and an orgasm would return her to her regular body, then Sam wanted to absorb the experience while she could. She'd always wondered how she would look if she'd been born a boy. The answer, it seemed, was... pleasing. She was handsome. As her heart rate settle, she felt increasingly grounded. From downstairs, the loud laughter of her parents pierced the air. Sam hoped they wouldn't see her like this. Even this moment of enjoyment felt like a betrayal of the daughter they loved. The dim light of her bedside lamp cast a warm glow on her hand as it carded through the hair on her chest, down her stomach, and into her familiar bush, finding her cunt sopping wet. Tender ministrations revealed subtle differences. The course hair felt thicker, and her clit was so hard it peeked out from under its hood, demanding pressure it would have complained under the day before. After a few unsatisfactory minutes of Sam attempting her usual techniques, she took her engorged clit between her middle and pointer fingers and stroked its length, eliciting a loud moan. The pleasure was so focused and intense that Sam's mind went blank, replaced with the slick pumping of her cock. Clit, a distant thought tried to remind her. Still a clit, still a cunt, still a woman. The thought was difficult to pay much heed to when the rest of Sam's mind was busy providing images of soft brown curls, a delicate waist, curvy legs stretched in attractive poses amplified by skin-tight yoga pants. Sam bit down on her hand (her skin's flavor ever so subtly altered) to muffle the deep groans in her throat. She pictured lush lips kissing down her torso, teasing at her thighs, tongue drawing swirls over sensitive skin, then a nose buried in her bush, inhaling the salty musk of her balls until that tongue trailed up the thick vein of her cock and those perfect lips wrapped around her, dripping saliva down feverish flesh. Maddie's eyes smiled up at Sam, dick resting against her cheek, and she asked, "Will you come inside of me?" The orgasm hit Sam like a gunshot, her teeth biting red marks into her hand as her hips uselessly thrust into the air, fucking her fingers without mercy. As the waves of joy receded, a calm fell over her. All the torment of the evening seemed to fade from view as she stretched, relaxed, and breathed. Then the searing desire to fuck and to fill struck again, redoubled, tripled. Sam suddenly remembered what she'd hoped would happen when her clit, aching like a brutal vibrator had been held to it for thirty hours straight, grew, its skin stretching an inch, two, three more. "No no no," Sam babbled, eyes glued to her warping genitalia. "Fuck, please, stop, please!" Her body didn't listen, and the orgasmic pleasure of her growing cock was undercut by terrible cramps as her reproductive organs began rearranging themselves. She threw her hands over her eyes, hiding from the pain, the petrifying joy, and the unavoidable changes. Sam was scared. Triana had seemed so confident in her advice, and it had backfired. Would Sam ever again see the body to which she'd grown so accustomed? What would she tell her parents? Her boss? Maddie? The pain faded, leaving only a throbbing need. She lowered her hands. There it was. An uncut, flushed penis with a set of heavy balls to match. It begged for touch. Sam stared. It twitched. Entranced, Sam's hand reached out, her fingertips just grazing the engorged flesh when-- Two quiet knocks feel upon her door.