The sound of running water cuts off abruptly, and my heart pounds like a jackhammer against my ribs. This is it. This is the moment I've been planning for weeks.
As I hear my sister get out of the shower for our first day of college—my freshman year, I can't help but wonder how we got here. The bathroom door will open any second now, and she'll walk past my bedroom. My bedroom with its conspicuously open door.
My hand strokes my dick faster as I imagine her reaction. Will she be disgusted? Intrigued? Will this finally be the moment she stops seeing me as her annoying little brother and recognizes the tension that's been building between us for years?
Ever since I woke up in this world five years ago, this bizarre reality where the genders are completely upside down, nothing has made sense except my feelings for Kayla. While other guys at school learned proper etiquette and how to attract a strong girlfriend, I've only had eyes for my sister. I know it's messed up. I know it breaks every social taboo. But in a world already turned inside out, what's one more impossibility?
The squeak of the bathroom door sends electricity down my spine. I position myself for maximum visibility, making absolutely sure there's no way she can miss the show.
"Travis, did you use all the…" Kayla freezes in my doorway, a towel wrapped around her athletic frame, her short black hair dripping onto her shoulders. Her green eyes widen, then narrow dangerously.
For a moment, something flashes in her eyes, something primal and possessive that makes my breath catch. Her lips part slightly, and I swear she takes half a step toward me, like a predator about to claim its prey. This is it. This is finally happening.
But then, as quickly as it appeared, that hungry look vanishes. Blood rushes to her face, painting her cheeks crimson. She backs away so fast she almost trips, then slams my door with enough force to rattle the hinges.
"Travis, what the hell?" she shouts through the wood. "You're so fucking clueless! What if I had been one of my friends? Or Mom? Jesus Christ!"
I fall back against my pillows with a groan of disappointment. So close. I was so close to breaking through that wall she keeps between us.
"Sorry," I call back, trying to sound innocent. "I forgot the door was open."
There's a pause, and I can almost hear her collecting herself on the other side.
"Well, uh..." Her voice sounds strained, uncertain. "Maybe finish up in the shower or something? Just... not where anyone can see you."
A slow smirk spreads across my face. She didn't tell me to get dressed first.
I slide off my bed and stride toward the door, not bothering to cover myself. When I pull it open, Kayla's still standing there, clutching her towel like it's the only thing keeping her sane. Her eyes drop for a split second before she spins around, cursing under her breath.
"What are you doing?" she hisses, keeping her back to me.
"Following your advice," I reply casually, brushing past her in the hallway. "Heading to the shower."
As I pass her in the narrow hallway, my erection brushes against her towel-covered ass. I feel her tense immediately, a sharp intake of breath cutting through the silence between us.
"Travis!" she whispers harshly, her face flushing deeper than I've ever seen it. Before I can continue my path to the bathroom, her hand shoots out and grabs my arm, spinning me around to face her.
My heart leaps into my throat. This time, this is it for sure. The moment I've been waiting for. I lean in slightly, expecting her to finally give in to what I know we both want.
Instead, her palm presses against my forehead, her brows furrowing with genuine concern. "Are you running a fever or something? Did you hit your head?" Her eyes search mine, not with desire but with worry. "Travis, something is seriously wrong with you. You can't be this careless around women! What if I wasn't your sister? Some random woman would absolutely take advantage of you."
The clinical concern in her voice makes my stomach sink. She's still fighting it.
I sigh, letting my shoulders drop dramatically. "Maybe if it was you, Kayla, I wouldn't mind."
Her eyes widen, and for a split second, that predatory look returns, a flash of something possessive and hungry that vanishes so quickly I almost think I imagined it.
"That's not funny," she says, dropping her hand from my forehead. "You don't understand how dangerous that kind of talk is. Men get hurt thinking like that."
I step closer, emboldened by that momentary glimpse behind her mask. "Maybe I understand better than you think."
Kayla backs away, shaking her head. "Get in the shower, Travis. We're leaving for campus in thirty minutes." Her voice drops to a whisper. "And lock the bathroom door this time."
As I watch her retreat to her bedroom, I can't help but smile. She didn't tell me I was disgusting. She didn't threaten to tell our mom. She told me to lock the door, protect myself. Maybe even from her.
Small victories. That's how this game is played.
*****
[Kayla's POV]
I slam my bedroom door shut and lean against it, my towel slipping to the floor as my legs give out. The cool air hits my naked skin, but I barely notice. I'm burning up from the inside.
'Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.'
My breathing comes in short, desperate gasps as I slide down to the floor. My entire body trembles, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I press them against my face. The image of Travis, my baby brother, standing there completely exposed, his perfect cock hard and ready, replays in my mind on an endless loop.
It took everything, every ounce of willpower I possessed, not to grab him, throw him down, and take him right there in the hallway. My beautiful, innocent little brother with his perfect body and that maddening smirk. The way he looked at me, so confident, so knowing.
That brief moment when he brushed against me... I can still feel the hard heat of him through the thin barrier of my towel. My hand moves between my legs almost of its own accord, finding the slick evidence of how desperately I want him.
"Fuck," I whisper, my fingers working frantically as I bite my lip to keep from moaning. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
What kind of monster am I? He's my brother. My little brother who I'm supposed to protect. Instead, I'm sitting here, naked and dripping, getting myself off to the memory of his body. To the way he said, "Maybe if it was you, Kayla, I wouldn't mind."
The worst part is that I know exactly what I'm doing when I warn him about other women. The thought of another woman touching him, seeing what I just saw, makes me want to commit violence. He's mine. He's always been mine.
I hear the shower turn on across the hall, and my mind fills with images of water running down his body. I could join him. The door would be locked, but I know how to pop the simple bathroom lock with a bobby pin. I could slip in, and before he could react...
"No!" I hiss to myself, my free hand clenching into a fist so tight my nails dig painfully into my palm. "Get it together, Kayla."
But my other hand doesn't stop, can't stop, as waves of pleasure build inside me. I'm so close, teetering on the edge as I imagine pushing Travis against the shower wall, claiming his mouth, showing him exactly what I've been hiding all these years.
I orgasm with such intensity that my entire body convulses, a flood of wetness gushing between my fingers and splashing onto the carpet beneath me. The release is so powerful, so overwhelming, that I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle the scream threatening to tear from my throat. Travis's name dies on my lips, trapped behind my fingers as my hips buck uncontrollably.
"Shit, shit, shit," I whisper against my palm as the aftershocks ripple through me. The wet stain on the carpet spreads in a dark puddle beneath me, the evidence of my depravity soaking into the fibers. Mom will kill me if she sees this.
But I can't think about that now. Can't think about anything except Travis. My little brother. The way he looked at me. The way he said my name. Like he knows exactly what I'm hiding.
I force myself to stand on shaky legs, grabbing a towel from my laundry basket to blot at the mess I've made. The fabric quickly becomes soaked, and I toss it into my hamper with a frustrated groan. I'll have to scrub this out later, but right now, I need to pull myself together.
I rummage through my closet, trying to find something that says "first day of junior year" without screaming "I'm trying too hard." My hands are still shaking as I pull on a tank top and jeans, then discard them immediately. Too casual. I need something that shows I'm put together, responsible. Something that says "I'm definitely not having inappropriate thoughts about my brother."
A knock at my door makes me jump, and I realize I've been standing half-dressed and staring into my closet for too long.
"Just a minute!" I call, voice higher than normal. I grab a button-up flannel and throw it on over a black sports bra, then yank on my favorite dark jeans. Good enough.
I'm running a brush through my still-damp hair when Travis opens my door without waiting for permission. He stands there looking absolutely stunning in his casual shirt and jeans, the fabric hugging his lean frame in ways that should be illegal.
"Ready?" he asks, leaning against my doorframe with that infuriating confidence.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of him. How does he manage to look so perfect in something so simple? It's not fair.
Suddenly, his nose wrinkles slightly. He sniffs the air, his eyes narrowing as he glances around my room.
"What's that smell?"