Archive of Our Own

Alex grunted with pleasure as Sheldon's cock throbbed in their ass.

The 16 year old rubbed their nipples and caged cock vigorously as their 19 year old boyfriend's thick length stirred their prostate. The teenager moaned softly, precum leaking from the small slit in the cage.

The cage wasn't a permanent feature. Sheldon just insisted that he wasn't gay, so as his "girlfriend" Alex had to make sure no boy-parts came out during their lovemaking.

Except for their penis, Alex looked precisely as one would imagine a female teenage bombshell would, with long, slender legs, supple, well-developed breasts with pink eraser-like nipples, and a smooth, rounded butt. A face that could belong on a teen magazine cover crowned the ensemble.

If they weren't a biological boy, Alex could have been the captain of the cheerleading squad. And this was rare.

Traces of maleness tended to remain for most transgender women, but Alex's mother had started their hormone treatment years before the onset of puberty, over the objections of their father. The result was that Alex had grown into exactly the daughter their mother wanted: fully feminized, soft-bodied, and smooth-skinned. Then their mother died.

"Ah, Alex," Sheldon breathed as he felt the familiar tightening of his imminent orgasm. "Oh god, I'm close... I ca-I can't hold it…"

Sheldon's grip tightened on Alex's small waist as his thrusts became shorter and faster.

Alex loved this part. He became primal, selfish.

"Yes," Alex moaned, clamping down hard on Sheldon's shaft, making him yelp and cry out as his orgasm approached.

But when the first thick ropes of his load shot into Alex's ass, Sheldon didn't stop. His hips kept slamming into Alex, making a soft slapping sound with each impact, his cock releasing more and more cum into Alex's rectum.

"Yes!" Alex cried out, not caring that the apartment walls were thin, and the neighbors could probably hear them.

"Shit..." they added. "I-I'm also gonna..."

"N-No!" Sheldon yelped, and quickly pulled out of Alex.

Alex whined and tried to keep from climaxing, but couldn't hold back. They knew Sheldon hated seeing them ejaculate.

With a soft, high-pitched groan, their caged cock began to weakly spurt ropes of cum from its metal prison, their seed splashing onto the bedsheets below.

Sheldon scrambled away and off the bed. He sighed, running a hand through his short brown hair, his eyes fixed on the floor as Alex came.

"Damnit, Alex," he said quietly.

Alex sighed.

"Sorry, honey," they pouted.

"It's alright," Sheldon said, walking toward the bathroom. "Just please clean up."

"I will," Alex called after him. "Love you."

"Yeah, love you too," Sheldon responded as he closed the bathroom door.

Alex waited until he heard the water turn on, then got off the bed, clenching their sphincter to avoid spilling Sheldon's cum onto the floor. They grabbed the empty wine glass by the bed, placed it under their ass, and pushed the semen out into the glass. The thick, white fluid pooled at the bottom.

It wasn't much, as most of it was already deep inside Alex's intestine. But it was enough.

They swallowed, feeling the warm, slightly salty liquid coat their throat. It tasted like Sheldon, and Alex cherished that taste. They closed their eyes and moaned softly, finishing the last few drops.

They put the glass back on the nightstand and grabbed their purse, fishing out a bunch of tissues and the key to the chastity cage. Alex unlocked the device, their cock springing free, still slick with their own ejaculate. They cleaned themselves off, wiping their penis and the cum stain on the sheets. Then they laid back down on the bed, a contented sigh escaping their lips.

The sound of running water stopped, followed by the sound of Sheldon rummaging through the bathroom closet. He emerged a moment later, still naked.

"Wanna take a shower?" he asked Alex. Sheldon usually dropped Alex off at school when they stayed the night.

Alex smiled up at their boyfriend.

"No," they said. "I'm cleanest when covered in your smell and sweat."

They batted their long eyelashes at him.

Sheldon rolled his eyes playfully.

"You're impossible," he said, pulling a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans from his dresser. "You know that, right?"

Alex's grin widened.

"You love me for it."

Sheldon chuckled, before noticing Alex's phone light up. It was on silent.

"Someone's missing you," he said.

Alex sighed.

"It's my dad," they said. "He wanted me last night."

"Have I told you it's weird that you two fuck?" Sheldon asked, stepping into his jeans.

"You may have mentioned it a couple times," Alex said dryly. "He hasn't left me alone since..."

Alex's voice trailed off.

"You transitioned," Sheldon said, chuckling. "I'm not a baby. I accept who you are, and you respect my sexual boundaries."

Alex smiled at him.

"Yeah," they said. "He hated my mom for doing this to me, but he's obsessed with the end product."

"Well," Sheldon said, zipping up his fly and buckling his belt. "He and I have something in common then."

"You can say that again," Alex laughed, sitting up and stretching. "Anyway, if I keep him occupied he'll keep his hands off my sister."

Sheldon chuckled.

"You hate your sister's guts," he said, pulling his t-shirt on.

"And she hates mine," Alex confirmed. "But the little cunt has a cunt and I do not want an inbred half-sibling crawling around if I can help it. Luckily he's only had the hots for me so far."

They stood up, grabbing the clothes they'd laid out the night before.

"I'll take that shower after all," they said. "Can't go to school smelling like sex, now can I?"

Sheldon watched as Alex walked toward the bathroom, their feminine hips swaying with each step.

"Nope," he said, a fond smile on his face. "Certainly not."

***

School was a drag, as usual. Alex sat in the back of their English class, doodling in their notebook. They were wearing a tight, low-cut top that showed off their cleavage, and a short skirt that barely covered their ass. The outfit was deliberately provocative, a little rebellion against the suffocating boredom of high school.

The teacher, a portly man named Mr. Evans, droned on about Shakespeare.

Alex's attention drifted, their mind replaying the night before. Sheldon's hands on their waist, his hot breath on their neck, the way he'd looked at them after they'd cleaned up, a mix of exasperation and affection.

The bell rang, jolting Alex from their reverie.

They gathered their things and headed for the door, their hips swaying as they walked. As they stepped into the crowded hallway, a familiar voice called their name.

"Alex! Hey, Alex!"

It was Maya, their best friend since elementary school. She was a whirlwind of color and energy, with vibrant dyed-pink hair and a constellation of freckles across her nose. Today she was wearing a band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a scowl.

"Maya!" Alex exclaimed, genuinely happy to see her. "What's up?"

"Not much," Maya said, falling into step beside them. "Just the usual. Boring classes, judgmental stares, the whole high school experience."

Alex nodded, a small smile on their lips. They did know.

Maya was one of the few people at school who knew Alex's full story, the medical details and the emotional turmoil. She didn't care about any of it. As far as she was concerned, Alex was just Alex. A beautiful, slightly unhinged teenage girl who happened to have a penis.

"How was your 'date' with Sheldon last night?" Maya asked, a glint in her eye.

"He was... enthusiastic," Alex said, their voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

Maya snorted.

"I bet. He always is. Did you get to... you know?"

"Nope," Alex said, popping the 'p'. "The cage stays on."

"Ugh, what a dick," Maya said, though without any real heat. She knew the drill. It was a strange, complicated arrangement, but it seemed to work for them. "Did you at least have fun?"

"I had a blast," Alex said, a mischievous glint in their eyes. "So did he, in more ways than one."

Maya shook her head, a grin spreading across her face.

"You are something else, you know that?"

"So I've been told," Alex said, flipping their long, blonde hair over their shoulder.

"You should go back there after school," Maya continued. "Give him a little afternoon delight."

Alex considered it, then shook their head.

"No," they said. "Sheldon takes Thursdays to study. His dad is a real dick about his grades."

"Right, right, whatever," Maya said. "You should go back there after school."

Alex laughed at the repeat.

"If you're so eager for me to get some, why don't you date him?" they asked.

"He's too white, too straight, and too conservative for my taste," Maya said with a grin. "But he's not bad to look at, so I see him vicariously through you."

Alex just shook their head.

"Fine," they said. "I'll go back. But I'm just gonna take him some food and let him study. Maybe he'll be grateful later."

"A roundabout way of getting into his pants," Maya observed. "I like it. Cunning."

Alex shrugged.

"I do what I can."

***

After school, Alex walked to the local deli, the little bell above the door chiming as they entered. The familiar smell of pastrami and dill pickles filled the air.

They ordered a sandwich for themselves and Sheldon, their mouth watering at the thought of the succulent roast beef and tangy mustard.

Sheldon's place was a 15 minute walk from school, during which time Alex finished their own lunch. It was a quiet, tree-lined street, the kind of place where you could imagine raising a family. A stark contrast to Alex's own chaotic household.

They reached Sheldon's apartment building and took the stairs to his floor, the key he'd given them a warm weight in their pocket. They let themselves in.

"Shel..." Alex began, before a sound from his bedroom made them stop.

It was a giggle.

A giggle that was not Sheldon's, and certainly not Alex's. It was high-pitched and feminine, and it made Alex's blood run cold. Then another giggle joined the first, slightly deeper but just as feminine.

Heart hammering against their ribs, Alex crept down the hallway. The bedroom door was ajar. Alex peered through the crack.

Sheldon was lying flat on the bed. On top of him was a naked girl.

But not just any girl.

Bethany, with her petite frame and long, wavy blonde hair that cascaded down her back, her face framed by delicate, feminine features. The girl's body was a vision of perfection, her small breasts pert and her waist slender.

She happened to be Alex's 14 year old sister.

And she was riding Sheldon's cock to the hilt.

Beside them on the bed, also naked, was Clara, Bethany's best friend.

Clara had shorter, fiery red curls and freckles dusted across her shoulders. She was leaning against the headboard, watching Bethany with a smug grin as she casually played with her own little tits.

Alex's world tilted. The plastic bag containing Sheldon's sandwich slipped from their numb fingers, the thud of it hitting the floor muffled by the carpet.

Bethany was smiling, her head thrown back in pleasure, her long hair brushing Sheldon's legs.

Sheldon's hands were on her hips, guiding her movements, his face a mask of raw desire.

Clara noticed the door first, her eyes widening as she spotted Alex through the crack.

"Uh, Beth..." she started to say, but it was too late.

Alex pushed the door open.

The sound was louder than Alex had intended.

Bethany yelped, scrambling off Sheldon, grabbing a blanket to cover herself. Clara shrieked and grabbed a pillow, also attempting to cover her naked form.

Sheldon groaned, his eyes widened in shock, a deer caught in the headlights.

"This is what you do on Thursdays?" Alex's voice was dangerously quiet, a stark contrast to the roaring in their ears.

"It's not what..." Sheldon tried to answer, but his cock continued to twitch and began to spurt a stream of semen onto his stomach.

Bethany just giggled.

"He needed a real girl," she said in that child-like, singsong voice of hers that made Alex's teeth ache with hatred.

"Two real girls," she added, glancing at Clara.

Alex stared at Sheldon, at his slowly softening, cum-smeared cock. Then back at Bethany and Clara.

"Fucking whores!" they shouted, and lunged at their sister.

"Alex, don't!" Sheldon yelled as Alex tackled Bethany to the floor.

The girl shrieked as Alex grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and slammed her head against the floorboards.

Bethany struggled, her small hands pushing against Alex's chest, but she was no match for Alex's desperate strength.

Alex was a blur of motion, their hands flying, their nails scratching, their knee pressing into Bethany's throat.

Bethany gurgled, her eyes wide with fear.

Then, a strong pair of arms wrapped around Alex's waist and pulled them off.

Sheldon held Alex tight, their back pressed against his chest, their arms pinned to their sides.

"Let go of me!" Alex screamed, thrashing against his hold. "I'm going to kill her! And you're next!"

They squirmed, and their elbow connected with Sheldon's ribs, making him grunt.

But Sheldon's grip remained firm. He was stronger, and his adrenaline had kicked in. He managed to maneuver them both out of the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. The thud echoed like a gunshot in the small apartment.

Alex finally broke free, stumbling back and gasping for air. They glared at Sheldon, their chest heaving.

"You fuck my sister?" Alex hissed. "After everything?"

"I'm so..." Sheldon began.

"Save it," Alex snarled, wiping a stray tear from their eye.

Then they turned around, grabbed their purse, and left.

***

"What's going on?" Peter, their father, asked over dinner that night.

Alex sat there in silence, staring daggers at Bethany, who was smiling sweetly at their father. Beside Bethany, Clara chewed her food slowly, her eyes darting between the siblings with keen interest, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Nothing," Alex said.

Peter, a man in his late forties with a perpetually tired expression, narrowed his eyes.

"Don't lie to me," he said.

"He's just having some tranny angst," Bethany chimed in, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

"Take it up the ass, whore," Alex shot back, their eyes briefly flicking to Clara.

"Oh, Sheldon already gave that a whirl," Bethany said, Clara covering her mouth to stifle a giggle. "Maybe you should take it up the cunt. Oh, wait!"

Peter choked on his food, his fork clattering against his plate.

He stared at his younger daughter, then at his elder, and finally at Clara, who was now openly smirking.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Stop it, the both of you!"

Alex pushed their chair back and stood up.

"Screw this," they said, and walked out of the room.

They could hear Bethany's triumphant giggles, joined by Clara's, as they left.

***

There was no hope of sleep. Alex lay in bed, their mind consumed with thoughts of Sheldon with Bethany and Clara, of Sheldon's hands on her hips, of his voice when he'd said her name, of Clara's smug smirk.

They had never felt such a burning rage. They wanted to tear their sister apart, and that redheaded bitch with her.

Alex had always been protective of Bethany, in their own way. She was their little sister, after all. Even with her constant taunts and jabs, Alex was the older sibling. They were supposed to look after her.

But this... this changed everything.

Alex turned on their back, grabbing hold of the covers tightly as an idea began to take form.

'Take it up the cunt!'

Bethany had wanted to hurt Alex with her words, but perhaps she'd unintentionally gifted them the ammunition for the perfect revenge.

"Yes," Alex sighed, pushing the covers off and looking at their clock. "Up the cunt."

It was after two in the morning. Their father, sister, and the cunt's little friend were sure to be asleep.

They crept silently through the dark house to Bethany's room.

Alex quietly turned the knob and stepped into the darkness. They could hear the soft, even rhythm of breathing from the bed, two sets of it, mingling. Two shapes tangled in the sheets.

Alex tiptoed across the room, until they were standing over the sleeping girls. For a moment, they just stood there, watching them. Bethany's blonde hair spread across the pillow like a halo, and her naked chest rising and falling. Next to her, Clara slept in thin pajamas, a tangle of red curls on the pillow.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Alex climbed onto the bed, straddling Bethany.

With a gentleness that belied their intent, Alex wrapped their fingers around the blonde girl's neck, making the sleeping girl stir slightly. They pressed gently, but not enough to wake her.

'Bethany didn't have Sheldon to protect her now,' Alex thought with a smile.

Slowly, methodically, Alex increased the pressure in almost imperceptible increments. This carried on until Alex felt Bethany's breathing grow ragged.

Alex waited, keeping the grip. Then they increased the pressure again, in another micro-increment. Then they increased it one more time, until Bethany let out a choked sigh, and her body relaxed completely.

Alex kept the grip for another moment, then released. They checked for a pulse with their finger on the girl's neck. Still there.

Then they took hold of Bethany's right nipple and twisted. No reaction.

Alex shifted their attention to the second lump under the covers.

Clara mumbled something in her sleep. Alex didn't hesitate. They repeated the entire, chilling process, their fingers wrapping around the pale skin of Clara's throat. They felt the initial flutter of the girl's pulse beneath their thumb, a steady, unsuspecting rhythm that Alex meticulously worked to still.

Just as before, the breathing became ragged, then stopped with a final, soft sigh.

Alex released her and felt for a pulse. Low, but there.

They twisted Clara's nipple through the thin fabric of her pajamas. Nothing. Not even a flinch.

Perfect.

Alex climbed off the bed and walked quietly to the bathroom. In the cabinet under the sink, they found a pair of medical gloves and snapped them on.

They then looked at themself in the mirror for a moment, taking in the determined set of their jaw, the cold fire in their eyes.

'Up the cunt.'

Alex lowered their panties and perched on the edge of the bathtub.

It took some determination, but eventually Alex was able to produce a decent-sized log of shit. They'd eaten a big lunch after all.

Alex reached behind themself into the tub and took the solid mass into their gloved hand.

It smelled vile.

Alex wrinkled their nose and fought back the urge to gag.

They returned to Bethany's room. The sleeping girls hadn't moved.

With their free hand, Alex gently spread Bethany's legs apart, exposing her 14 year old pussy.

It was the first time Alex had seen it up close. It was small and hairless, a little slit in the soft skin of her mound.

Alex understood the appeal.

Then, with a deep breath, Alex broke the log in two halves. They brought the first half of the hard, dry feces to their sister's cunt and began to slowly feed it inside.

It was a tight fit at first, but the waste was firm enough to hold its shape. Alex pushed, careful not to break it further. They worked methodically, ignoring the foul smell that filled the room, their focus absolute.

Bethany stirred a little and made a soft noise. This made Alex pause. But she didn't wake.

A moment later, and the first half was inside. But Alex knew it was still too shallow. It would begin falling out as soon as she moved her legs.

Alex stood back and looked around the room for a solution. Their eyes landed on a thin metal bottle of lotion from a brand for teenage girls.

That'll do.

Alex took the bottle and, holding it by its cap, inserted its base into the vaginal opening. They pushed, using the cylinder to pack the fecal matter in deeper and deeper. Then they felt resistance as the log hit what Alex assumed was Bethany's cervix.

Almost there.

Alex pushed harder, twisting the bottle slightly, relishing the muffled squelch of the excrement being compacted.

Finally, they felt it give way. Alex had successfully forced the shit through Bethany's cervix, depositing it directly into her young womb.

Bethany let out a soft moan but remained otherwise still.

Alex carefully withdrew the bottle.

Then, they turned their attention to the sleeping Clara.

Alex peeled Clara's pajama bottoms down to her knees, their gloved fingers deliberately brushing against the redhead's warm skin to test for any response.

The fabric whispered softly as it slid down, exposing Clara's freckled pussy to the cool night air. Alex noted the small tuft of red curls at the apex, a stark contrast to Bethany's smoothness.

They repeated the vile process, forcing the remaining half of the log deep inside Clara's tight passage.

Using the lotion bottle again, Alex pressed it against the resisting flesh, feeling the resistance give way with a sickeningly familiar squelch as the fecal matter breached Clara's cervix too.

Clara didn't stir at all, her breathing remained even and deep as Alex's most intimate violation of her body was completed without so much as a flutter of her eyelids.

Alex's heart pounded with a cold, fierce triumph. It was done.

'Let's see how having cunts serves you bitches now,' Alex thought with a sly smile.

They went back to the bathroom, peeled off the gloves, and dropped them in the toilet, flushing them away with a satisfied flush. They rinsed the lotion bottle thoroughly, wiping away any trace of their crime before placing it back on Bethany's dresser, exactly as they'd found it. Alex pulled Clara's clothing back up and made sure the crime scene was clear, before returning to their own room.

They lay in bed, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, replaced by a profound, unshakable calm. Revenge was a dish best served cold, they'd heard. But Alex preferred revenge served hot, steaming, and lodged directly up the cunts of the people who'd wronged them.

They closed their eyes, and for the first time that night, they felt the gentle pull of sleep.

***

The next morning, Alex was the first to the breakfast table.

They sat there, nibbling on a piece of toast, watching as Bethany stumbled into the kitchen. Her movements were stiff, her face pale.

"Someone's not a morning person," Alex said, their voice light, innocent.

Bethany shot them a look of pure venom.

"Shut up," she mumbled, pouring herself a glass of orange juice and taking a small, tentative sip. She seemed to be in some discomfort.

Their father shuffled in a few minutes later, still in his bathrobe, his hair a mess. He looked from one daughter to the other, sensing the tension.

Peter's gaze settled on Bethany.

"What's wrong with you? You look like crap," he said. "Feeling bad about what you said last night?"

A small smile touched Alex's lips.

Bethany rolled her eyes.

"Just a headache, and... an..." she paused.

At that moment, Clara emerged from the hallway, a hand pressed to her stomach. Her face was even paler than Bethany's, and her freckles stood out starkly against her clammy skin.

"I had to puke," she announced weakly to the room at large. "I feel like I'm dying."

This was all it took. Alex and Peter heard Bethany's stomach gurgle loudly.

Bethany's eyes widened in panic, her face turning from pale to a sickly shade of green. She bolted from the table.

They heard the thud of a bathroom door slamming shut.

Alex took another bite of their toast, the crunch loud in the sudden silence.

Clara slowly sank into Bethany's vacant chair, her movements slow and deliberate, her eyes distant.

Peter stared in the direction of the bathroom, then glanced at Clara, a confused look on his face.

"Stomach bug," Alex said, chewing thoughtfully, directing the comment at their father. "It's been going around."

Clara gave a weak nod, her hand still pressed against her stomach.

Peter shrugged, seemingly accepting the explanation. He poured himself a cup of coffee.

"By the way," he said, his voice casual. "You and I haven't had any special father-daughter time in a while."

Alex's chewing slowed. Special father-daughter time. That was their father's euphemism for the nights he would come into their room and fuck them.

"I suppose not," Alex said, their voice neutral.

"Well," Peter said, his eyes glinting. "If you don't want to..."

Across from them, Clara shifted slightly, her gaze flickering between Alex and her friend's father.

Alex thought about Sheldon's betrayal. Their boyfriend... not anymore.

"No, Dad," Alex said, the decision solidifying in their mind. "I want to. I need it."

It was the perfect answer.

"Good," he said, a warm smile spreading across his face.

Clara's eyes widened for a brief moment before she lowered her gaze, her hands unconsciously tightening around her stomach.

From the bathroom, they heard a retching sound, followed by a low, miserable sob.

***

Bethany dragged herself into school, her backpack feeling like a lead weight on her shoulders.

The morning had been a nightmare. The relentless cramping, the feverish chills, the horrifying evacuation of her bowels. It felt like she was shattering apart from the inside.

Clara hadn't even come with her, leaving shortly after breakfast to go home, feeling too sick for school.

Something was seriously wrong with her.

She felt a fresh wave of nausea, clamping a hand over her mouth as she leaned against the row of metal lockers. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass.

"Hey, you alright?"

Bethany looked up. It was Maya, Alex's rainbow-haired friend. The last person on earth Bethany wanted to see right now.

"Fuck off," Bethany mumbled.

Maya raised a pierced eyebrow.

"Rough morning?" she asked. "Or are you always this charming?"

"Go suck my 'sister's' dick," Bethany shot back, then regretted it instantly as another spasm wracked her abdomen.

Maya smirked.

"You enjoy..." she said. "Whatever it is you're going through, freshman."

Bethany watched her walk away, then stumbled toward her first class. She made it through by the skin of her teeth, spending most of the period with her head on her desk, trying not to throw up on her textbook.

During lunch, she couldn't eat. She just sat at the table, staring at the tray of unappetizing cafeteria food. Her friends chattered around her, their voices a dull hum.

Another cramp seized her, this one so sharp it stole her breath.

"You look like you're about to die," one of her friends, a bubbly cheerleader named Jessica, said.

"I'm fine," Bethany lied, her voice tight. "Just... cramps."

She stumbled from the lunchroom, heading for the nurse's office. She just needed to lie down.

The nurse was a stern-looking woman with grey hair pulled into a tight bun.

"Well, you certainly don't look well," the nurse said after Bethany described her symptoms. "I can give you some anti-nausea meds and a painkiller, which should settle you. But you should make a doctor's appointment soon."

Bethany nodded, eager for the relief. The pills went down with a cup of water, and the nurse directed her to one of the cots in the back room.

"Rest here for a bit," the nurse said, gesturing to one of the cots. "I'll tell your teachers."

Bethany laid down, the cool fabric a small comfort against her heated skin. She closed her eyes.

Within an hour, Bethany was up and back to class. The medicine the nurse gave her was doing its job.

The nausea ebbed to a manageable hum, and the ache in her belly dulled to a faint throb. Some energy returned to her limbs, the leaden feeling giving way to a familiar, light-headed restlessness. She even felt good enough to sub for another girl on the cheerleading squad who twisted her ankle in gym.

She strutted onto the field, her tight uniform hugging her developing curves and her hair tied back in a neat, high ponytail.

The other girls eyed her with a mix of envy and concern, but she brushed it off, determined to shine.

As the whistle blew, she moved through the familiar routines. A high kick, a toe touch, a herkie.

The usual crowd of boys was gathered on the sidelines, their eyes glued to the girls, just in time for their most complicated stunt. The pyramid.

The captain of the squad shouted the count. Bethany ran towards the formation, ready to launch.

She gathered all her strength, her legs coiling like springs.

"Go!" the captain yelled.

Bethany vaulted into the air, her body a perfect, arched line. She reached the pinnacle of the jump, her body balanced for a breathtaking moment.

Then, at the apex, having exerted herself, with two squad mates holding her ankles and the crowd watching her from below, it happened.

A sharp cramp twisted through her lower belly, so intense it felt like a hook had been lodged in her gut and yanked hard. Then something shifted inside. She felt a wetness bloom between her legs.

It wasn't blood. It wasn't urine.

Whatever it was, some of it spurted out, a thin stream of brown liquid that traced a path down her inner thigh, some of it falling onto the upturned faces of the two girls holding her.

"What the fuck?" one of the girls cried out, dropping Bethany's ankle instantly.

The pyramid collapsed. Bethany landed hard on the unforgiving turf, the breath knocked from her lungs.

The girls recoiled and gagged at the smell.

Bethany looked down quickly, seeing the brown stain was stark against her bright white cheer panties. She quickly pulled her skirt over the mess, but she had seen the looks on their faces.

The crowd of boys who had watched her with such desire moments before were now jeering and pointing. Some of the other girls also laughed.

"Hey, bitches," the coach yelled as she jogged over. "Stop that right now."

The woman knelt beside Bethany, her face etched with concern, though she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the smell.

"Honey, you need to get home and see a doctor."

Bethany looked at her, a single, humiliating tear rolling down her cheek.

She scrambled to her feet, her face burning with shame. She could feel everyone's eyes on her. She could hear their whispers, see their pointing fingers.

She grabbed her backpack from the bleachers and fled.

***

Bethany made a beeline for Sheldon's apartment building. She needed to see a friendly face, a warm body to hold her and tell her it would be okay.

She knocked on his door, her knuckles raw and cold.

He opened it a moment later.

"Hey, Beth..." he began, then his eyes widened as he took in her tear-streaked face and disheveled appearance. "What happened? Are you alright?"

She threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

"It was horrible," she wept.

He led her inside, closing the door behind them.

"What happened?"

"I... I..." she began, not finding the words. "Can I take a shower?"

"Of course!" he said, smiling.

"An-and... do you have any painkillers?" she asked. "Anything."

He nodded, then led her to his bathroom. He came back with two white pills, and a glass of water.

Bethany took them greedily, then closed the bathroom door behind her. She peeled off her soiled clothes, her body trembling with sobs.

Under the hot spray of the shower, Bethany scrubbed at her skin, trying to wash away the humiliation. But it was no use. The feeling of the warm water only seemed to intensify the phantom sensation of the cool, wet filth trickling down her thigh.

She washed away the dried brown streaks from her inner thighs. She knew she had shit herself - she still felt sick. But it was her cunt that felt strange, raw. Had her and Sheldon's last fuck been so rough? And that pain now coincided with some stomach bug, which Clara also caught? She knew she had to go to the doctor but she already felt so embarrassed.

And the painkillers were making her feel better.

Sheldon had left one of his large t-shirts on the counter for her.

She dried herself off, the rough towel scraping against her sensitive skin, and pulled it over her naked body. The fabric was soft and smelled like him, a faint scent of laundry detergent and his cologne.

Bethany sat down on the toilet, retrieving her phone. She ignored the notifications from various cheerleading groups and blocked a few of the boys who had sent her nasty messages.

Then she texted Clara.

'Horrible day,' she typed. 'r u ok?'

A moment later, the reply came.

'No' came the first reply.

'I think my intestines are trying to crawl out of me,' came the second.

Bethany felt a small measure of comfort in knowing she wasn't alone in her suffering.

'Same' she typed back.

'Stay strong,' Clara texted, followed by a vomiting emoji.

Bethany's lips twitched into a faint, sad smile, before putting her phone away and walking out of the bathroom.

Sheldon was sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for her.

"Feeling a little better?" he asked, smiling at the sight of her in his shirt.

Bethany shrugged, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill.

"What happened at practice?" he asked.

"It was nothing," she mumbled, not wanting to talk about it.

"Bethany," he said gently, taking her hand. "You can tell me."

She smiled at him. He's so kind. But she can't tell him.

"I messed up one of the stunts," she said, her voice small. "It was just embarrassing, that's all."

Sheldon nodded, his expression understanding.

"Everyone messes up sometimes," he said. "It's not a big deal."

Bethany managed a weak smile.

"Thanks," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

"I'm always here for you," he said softly.

Bethany's heart swelled with a warm, fuzzy feeling. She was safe with him.

"But..." he said, his voice turning mischievous. "I like you doing stuff for me every once in a while, too."

Bethany giggled.

"Oh, really?" she said coyly, as she gingerly pushed herself off the bed and onto her knees.

"Really," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

He leaned back on his elbows, his eyes half-closed.

She unzipped his jeans and pulled his hardening cock out. It was so hot and heavy in her small hand.

She leaned forward and took him in her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head.

He groaned softly, his fingers tangling in her hair.

She worked his shaft inside her mouth, careful not to take him too deep, knowing she'd probably puke. But she bobbed her head slowly and rhythmically, her hand stroking the length that wouldn't fit.

He began to move his hips in time with her mouth, his breathing growing heavier.

Bethany felt a surge of power. She had him. This man, this boy, who had been with Alex, was hers now. Very few freshmen could say they had college boys wrapped around their fingers.

She increased her pace, her head bobbing faster.

"Oh god, Bethany," he moaned, his hips bucking.

He shuddered, grabbing the back of her head and pressing his full length right into her throat.

She had a split second to focus on suppressing her gag reflex as his hot cum erupted down her esophagus.

He moaned his release, his fingers clenching in her hair.

She held him there, his cock twitching in her mouth, as she swallowed every last drop.

Then she pulled away.

He leaned down, grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her up as he flopped back onto the bed with her atop him.

He kissed her, his tongue invading her mouth, tasting the remnants of his own seed.

"Get," he breathed between kisses.

She smiled knowingly, and, in a single movement, straddled his face, her pussy hovering over his mouth. His large t-shirt bunched up around her waist.

Maybe this will help ease the discomfort down there, provided she can control her bowels.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her down, his mouth finding her clit.

She gasped as his tongue began to work its magic. He flicked and sucked, his movements expert, sending waves of pleasure through her.

She began to grind her hips, her body moving with his rhythm.

He slid his tongue inside her, his hands holding her ass.

She was lost in a haze of pleasure. She ground down harder, her fingers digging into his shoulders. She was getting close. So close.

As her orgasm approached, another sensation rose with it. Another cramp. A deep, gut-wrenching cramp that seemed to originate in the very center of her being.

She tried to ignore it, to focus on the pleasure, edging her orgasm on and causing her cervix to open slightly in response.

And with that opening, it came.

Sheldon let out a choked cry just as Bethany climaxed, her mind overwhelmed with pleasure and confusion.

Her eyes shot open as she felt him grab her hips and lift her off his face, throwing her off of the bed.

She hit the floor with a hard thud, landing on her back.

Sheldon hunched over the side of the bed and vomited onto the floor beside her.

Bethany scrambled to her knees.

Sheldon looked up at her, his face a mask of pure horror.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled, his voice raw. "What the FUCK?!"

Bethany didn't understand. Did she shit herself again? She didn't feel anything.

"W-What?!" she stammered. "I..."

"Get out!" he screamed, retching again. "G-... get the fuck away from me!"

She stumbled to her feet, his words hitting her like a physical blow. She grabbed her clothes, not bothering to put them on, and ran for the door.

She fled down the hallway, not stopping until she was outside, the cold air hitting her naked skin under Sheldon's shirt. The tears she had been holding back finally broke free.

She ran, not caring where she was going, just wanting to escape the look on Sheldon's face.

***

"Where the hell have you been?" Peter demanded from the dining table the moment Bethany burst through the front door. "And what are you wearing?"

Bethany didn't answer. She just stood there, sobbing, her clothes clutched in her arms, her face a mess of tears and snot.

Alex sat at the table, dressed in a tight red dress and high heels. They looked at Bethany, a faint smile playing on their lips.

Peter's expression softened slightly as he saw his younger daughter's distress.

"What's wrong?" he asked cautiously.

"Nothing," Bethany choked out. "J-just let me go to bed."

Peter sighed.

"Alright," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Go."

Bethany didn't need to be told twice. They watched her stumble up the stairs, her small frame shaking with sobs, before hearing her bedroom door slam shut.

Alex took a slow sip of wine.

"Well," they said, setting the glass down. "That was dramatic."

Peter eyed his older child.

"She's at that age," he said dismissively. "Let's not worry about her tonight."

He reached across the table and took Alex's hand. His thumb stroked the back of it, a familiar, possessive gesture.

"So," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "About that father-daughter time..."

Alex smiled demurely, tilting their head.

"We haven't even had desert yet," they said coyly.

Peter chuckled.

"Oh, I think I'm about to get my desert," he said. "And I'd like to have it right here. At this table."

Alex raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across their face. They stood up and walked around the table to where their father was sitting.

Peter turned the chair to face them, his eyes dark with desire.

Alex straddled his lap, their dress riding up to expose their thighs. They wrapped their arms around his neck, pulling his face close.

"Daddy," they whispered, their breath warm against his ear. "I've been a bad girl."

Peter groaned, his hands roaming over Alex's body, one sliding up to cup a breast, the other gripping their ass.

"I know you have," he growled. "And I'm going to have to punish you."

He lifted Alex enough to unzip his fly, freeing his already hard cock. Then he positioned himself, the head of his cock pressing against Alex's tight asshole.

He entered them in one smooth, powerful thrust.

Alex cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure, their body arching against his. Their cock began to swell.

Unlike Sheldon, their father didn't seem to mind that part of them.

He started to move, his hips bucking upwards, driving his cock deeper and deeper into Alex's ass.

"Harder, Daddy," Alex moaned, meeting his thrusts, their bodies slapping together in a frantic rhythm. "Punish me for being a filthy little slut."

The words seemed to drive him wild. He gripped their hips, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding.

"That's it," he grunted. "Take it. Take all of it."

The friction against Alex's prostate was overwhelming. They felt their orgasm building, a hot, tight coil in their belly.

"I'm going to come, Daddy," they whimpered.

"Come for me, baby," he commanded.

And with a cry, Alex did, their cock spurting hot cum across their father's shirt.

He followed them a moment later, his own release filling Alex's ass with thick, warm liquid.

For a moment, they just stayed there, tangled together, their breathing ragged.

Then, with a sigh, Alex slid off his lap, his cum dripping down their thigh. They smoothed their dress down.

"Best desert I've had in a while," Alex said, their voice husky.

Peter smirked, a satisfied look on his face as he looked at the mess on his shirt.

"Don't expect a second helping," he said. "I'm too old for two rounds on a school night."

Alex just smiled. A knowing, triumphant smile.

***

It was after midnight when Bethany woke, covered in a cold sweat.

She stumbled to the bathroom, her body trembling. She flipped on the light and squinted, her reflection staring back at her. Pale, haunted, her eyes wide with a feverish glint.

"Wha..." she heard her father mutter as he shuffled into the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Bethany..."

She looked at him, seeing his eyes widen.

"What?" she mumbled, before she was able to trace his gaze to her lower abdomen.

She gasped at her distended belly.

"I can't believe it. That is what this is all about," Peter said, his voice low and filled with a dawning horror. "He... that 'Sheldon' boy you were fighting about. He... knocked you up!"

Bethany stared at him, her mind reeling. The cramping. The feeling of being full. It couldn't be. Her belly was perfectly flat just a few hours ago.

"No," she whispered, a strangled sound. "Daddy..."

"You're 14. 14!" he raged, partly with parental anger, partly with a possessive jealousy. Another man's child was growing in what he thought might eventually be his territory. A vein started to bulge on his forehead. "You whore!"

"It's not..." she stammered. "I'm not pre..."

A rise of bile and acid burned her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth and spun around, vomiting into the toilet. The retching was violent, her stomach heaving.

Peter took a deep breath, sighing.

"Yeah," he shook his head. "Clearly."

He turned and walked out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Breathing heavily, she took out her phone again, her hands shaking. She just needed something to cling to. She needed someone to tell her she wasn't going crazy.

Three new messages from Clara since she went to bed.

'WTF is happening' read the first one.

'My parents are flipping' read the second.

'Really sucks' read the third.

Bethany replied.

'My dad thinks I'm preggo' she typed out, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard. 'Cant be, rite?'

Then another cramp, sharp and twisting, seized her. She dropped the phone on the tiled floor with a clatter as she vomited once more into the bowl.

She remained there, huddled over the toilet, shivering. She looked at her reflection again, at the swell of her stomach.

What was happening to her?

She pressed her hand against her belly. It hurt, a deep, internal ache.

Maybe... maybe Sheldon did get her pregnant. But he always used a condom with her. Well, usually. How can she have gone to sleep with a flat stomach and wake up looking like she's in the second trimester? Her period had also been perfectly normal.

Bethany stayed there for hours, drifting in and out of a painful, feverish sleep on the cold bathroom tiles.

***

Alex rose early the next morning, humming softly to themself. They selected a simple pair of jeans and a tight black sweater, pulling their hair back into a neat ponytail. As they opened the bathroom door, they found Bethany still on the floor.

Bethany was a wreck. Her hair was matted with sweat, her face was pale and blotchy. Her arms were wrapped around her belly, which looked swollen for her slender frame.

Alex sighed quietly. Fuck. There it was. That feeling. Guilt. They didn't like it one bit.

"Oh dear," Alex murmured.

Bethany's eyes fluttered open at the sound of their voice.

"You look like you've had a rough night," they said.

Bethany didn't answer, just stared at them with a look of exhausted misery.

Alex turned on the faucet and wet a washcloth. They knelt down and gently wiped the sweat from Bethany's face.

The girl flinched at the touch but didn't pull away.

"Let's get you down onto the couch," Alex said.

Alex helped their sister to her feet, the older teen's small frame surprising Bethany with its hidden strength. Bethany was a dead weight, her body limp and pliant.

She needed a doctor, Alex knew. But that wouldn't be good for them.

Alex guided her out of the bathroom, her arm around Bethany's waist for support. In the kitchen, their father was at the table, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. He looked up as they entered from the hallway.

He let out a deep sigh.

"Mornin'," Peter said, not even trying to hide his disapproval. "I can't deal with this today, but she's going to the hospital first thing tomorrow morning."

Alex laid Bethany down on the living room sofa, placing a pillow under her head.

"Okay, Dad," they called back.

For a moment, Alex looked down at their sister. This girl, this vile, treacherous creature, now so helpless. Those old protective instincts, the ones Bethany had spat on, warred with the cold satisfaction of revenge.

Alex sighed.

"I'm heading to the office," Peter announced, putting away the paper.

"It's Saturday," Alex replied.

"I know," Peter said, shrugging. "There's an issue I need to take care of. Like I said, I can't deal with Beth today."

He pulled his keys from his pocket and walked to the door.

Alex went into the kitchen and started making coffee.

They knew the jig would be up the moment a doctor took a look inside her sister, so the problem had to be solved today.

The sound of the front door closing. He was gone.

Alex took their coffee and walked back.

They sat with Bethany for a while. Alex watched her shiver in her feverish sleep.

Alex knew what had to be done, which made their stomach twist. But they were the only one who could fix this. They couldn't risk their father finding their handiwork, and certainly couldn't risk Bethany going to the ER.

They got up and went back to the kitchen to retrieve the first aid kit from the top of the refrigerator.

Alex rummaged through the kit, finding the sleeping pills they were looking for. A small, unlabeled prescription bottle, leftover from their mother's illness.

Alex emptied four pills into their palm and crushed them with the back of a spoon into a fine white powder.

They poured a glass of water and mixed in the powder, stirring until it dissolved.

"Beth," Alex cooed softly. "Wake up."

Nothing.

"Pregnant whore."

Bethany's eyes fluttered open.

"What...?" she mumbled.

"Here," Alex said, holding the glass to her lips. "You're dehydrated. Drink this."

Bethany drank obediently, her throat parched, before falling back asleep almost instantly.

Alex waited, then waited some more, until they were sure the pills had taken effect.

Then they went to their father's room and searched his closet.

It didn't take long to find what they were looking for. A box that belonged to their mother, hidden behind old suits and dusty shoeboxes. It was filled with an assortment of sex toys, and they found what they were looking for.

A cold, metal speculum, and a slim anal douche.

Alex returned to the living room. They spread a towel on the floor and lifted Bethany's legs, propping her hips up with a throw pillow.

With clinical detachment, Alex cleaned the speculum, then inserted it into Bethany's slack vagina, turning the screw to open the blades, creating a wide, unobstructed view of the interior.

The first thing that struck them was the smell. A pungent, feculent odor, thick and suffocating as it rose from Bethany's exposed sex, immediately filling Alex's nostrils and coiling in the back of their throat.

It was a nauseating blend of stale shit, the unmistakable coppery tang of infection, and something else, something acrid and sweet that spoke of necrotizing tissue.

Alex forced themself to breathe through their mouth, the air tasting foul even then.

The newly opened slit produced a slow, relentless ooze of yellowish-brown pus that had been trapped in the vaginal canal, a thick, viscous fluid that trickled down towards the speculum's blades. It left glistening, snail-like trails on the pale, stretched skin of Bethany's inner thighs.

Alex had to fight the urge to gag, the acidic burn of bile rising in their own throat as the reality of what they were seeing crashed down upon them with the force of a physical blow.

With a trembling hand, Alex grabbed their cell phone, fumbling for a moment before managing to turn on the flashlight. The cool, clinical beam cut through the dim light of the living room, and they directed it inside the cavernous, horrifying opening.

It was a horror show, a scene from their most deranged nightmares made flesh.

The walls of her vagina were not just irritated, they were raw and inflamed, speckled with copious amounts of foul-smelling pus and marred by angry, weeping red abrasions that looked ready to bleed at the slightest touch. The fragile mucosal tissue, once pink and healthy, was now a mottled patchwork of deep crimson and sickly yellow, sloughing away in places.

Peering deeper, past the ravaged, grotesquely swollen canal, Alex saw the gaping os of the cervix. It was no longer the small, tight opening they had violated, but a raw, weeping hole, the sphincter muscle so weakened by the rampant infection that it couldn't close entirely, standing agape like a silent, screaming mouth.

A glossy, necrotic sheen coated the surface, the sheer scale of the bacterial activity evident. Through that small, violated opening, they could finally see the decomposing fecal matter they had forced through, now a mushy, foul amalgamation, mixed with what looked like clotted blood and more of the sickening yellow pus. It was a vile, festering stew, and it was spilling out in slow, sickening rivulets that mixed with the ooze from the vaginal walls, a testament to their own carefully crafted revenge.

Alex swallowed hard, the acid in the back of their throat burning. Disgusting. Their skin ran cold, as the bile rose quickly.

Alex bolted to the kitchen, barely making it to the sink before retching, a series of painful, heaving spasms that left their throat raw and their eyes watering. They clung to the countertop, their body trembling.

They glanced back at Bethany's inert form on the couch.

"Fucking bitch," they muttered. "Serves you right."

Alex ran the water, splashing their face, the cold shock clearing their head. They took a deep breath.

"But now I have to save you, again," they added quietly.

Clara would have to fend for herself, the little ginger rat. Bethany was their blood. Their problem.

Alex filled the anal douche with warm water, adding a bit of antiseptic soap from the first aid kit.

They returned to the living room and knelt between Bethany's legs.

The first flush of water went in, and a cascade of foul-smelling liquid gushed out, bringing with it chunks of decaying matter. Alex recoiled as a particularly large, dark blob landed on the towel with a wet slap.

They repeated the process, again and again, their stomach churning with each new wave of filth. The water ran from a thick, brown sludge to a cloudy, yellowish liquid.

Finally, it ran clear, with only the unstoppable hint of dissolved blood remaining.

Alex collapsed back on their heels, their head swimming. The air in the room was thick with the stench of infection and excrement. They felt a wave of dizziness and leaned against the couch, waiting for it to pass.

They looked at the mess on the towel, then at their sister's bruised and battered cunt.

Alex took a deep breath and stood up. They walked to the kitchen and retrieved a plastic container, the kind their father used for leftovers.

They went back to the living room and, holding their breath, scraped the foul mixture of shit, pus, and bloody tissue into the container from the towel.

They looked at Bethany's sleeping form.

"I'm not done with you just yet," Alex whispered.

They took the container into the kitchen and placed it on the counter.

Then they started gathering the ingredients of Bethany's favorite comfort soup from the fridge.

***

Hours later, Bethany stirred. The world swam into focus slowly.

She was lying on the couch, covered by a clean blanket. The air smelled like simmering vegetables and herbs.

"Mmhm?" she mumbled, a soft sound of confusion.

"You're awake," a calm voice said.

Bethany turned her head.

Alex was standing in the kitchen, pouring a golden, steaming liquid into a bowl. The plastic container stood empty and washed by the sink.

"How... how long was I out?" Bethany asked, her voice raspy.

She grabbed her phone, checking for messages. Nothing. Her last text to Clara, from almost 18 hours ago, remained unread.

"A few hours," Alex replied. "How are you feeling?"

Bethany took a mental inventory. The intense cramping was gone, replaced by a dull, manageable ache. Her head was clear. The feverish fog that had clouded her thoughts for the past two days had lifted.

"A little better," she said, a flicker of her old defiance in her eyes. She put her phone aside.

Alex brought the bowl over to the couch.

"I made you some soup," they said. "It's your favorite."

Bethany eyed the bowl suspiciously.

"Poisoned?" she asked.

Alex let out a short, sharp laugh.

"I know you hate me," Alex said. "But I'm still your older... brother. And no matter what you do to me, I'll always take care of you."

Bethany's eyes filled with tears as Alex placed the bowl on the coffee table.

"I... I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"I know," Alex said gently. "Now eat your soup."

Bethany sat up, the blanket falling from her shoulders. She winced a little at the movement. The bulge in her belly was noticeably smaller, almost gone.

She picked up the bowl. It smelled delicious. She took a tentative sip. The rich, savory broth warmed her from the inside.

They sat in silence for a while as Bethany ate. Alex smiled, watching their sister consume the evidence bit by bit.

"What about you?" she asked, holding the bowl up higher.

Alex smiled.

"Don't worry about me," they said, patting their own flat stomach. "I already had my bowl."

"Thank you," Bethany said softly, before taking another spoonful of the soup and smiling gently. "It's amazing."

"I poured a lot of myself into that," Alex said cryptically. "I love you, sis."

Bethany paused mid-sip. She had not expected that. She looked at Alex, at the gentle smile on their face.

"I... I love you, too..." she began. "... sis."

THE END