- Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:

Carly goes out on a date with one of her classmates, but brings a certain little passenger along for the steamy ride.

“I’ll get it!” called Carly, dashing downstairs from her bedroom to answer the front door’s bell.  Patting her hair once more to make sure it was perfectly in place and taking a deep breath to soothe her nerves, Carly opened the door and put on her biggest smile.  “Hey, Brad,” she said playfully, waggling her fingers in a wave.

                “What’s up, Carly?” answered her date, grinning and making a slightly awkward wave at Mr. and Mrs. Arton, who were both standing somewhat protectively in the hallway, arms around each other’s waists.  As Carly turned to look at them, hiding her look of great annoyance at them from Brad, they simply raised an eyebrow at her, as if giving a final warning to keep the evening clean.  Nodding knowingly at them, Carly closed the door behind herself, following Brad down the walkway to her house and to the driveway.

                “Your parents kinda nervous?” said Brad uneasily.

                “They always get like that when I go on dates… I don’t know what the problem is, I’m eighteen, for God’s sake… we’re going to college next semester.”

                Brad coughed lightly.  “You… go on a lot of dates?”

                Realizing her blunder, Carly played it off, shrugging and pinching Brad’s cheek.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

                The reality was that Carly had had a few boyfriends for brief periods throughout high school, but truly didn’t go out on a ton of dates like she had just made it sound.  She had a tight-knit group of friends, several of whom were boys, but none she would’ve felt comfortable going out on a date with.  Most of them were attractive, sure, but Carly had the impression that once they were in a parking lot together any one of them might go for her bra strap, if not worse; so, she often rejected their offers.  Most other people viewed her as snobby, and while Carly knew many of her friends weren’t terribly kind to the other students, she herself had her own very good reasons for keeping to herself.

                Or rather, one singular very, VERY good reason.

                So, when Brad, a guy Carly found to be both immensely hot and at least semi-respectful, asked her out to go to dinner and swing dancing afterward, she leapt at the chance.  The date sounded classy (not to mention luxurious, since Brad’s dad was loaded), and much more appealing than whatever combination of dry humping and hotboxing the other guys would’ve had in store for her.

                “Woah… is that a…” gasped Carly, her eyes boggling at the sight of the car in the driveway.

                “Lamborghini.  Yep,” answered Brad proudly, holding out a hand toward the impressively shining luxury vehicle.  “Not mine, obviously, it’s my dad’s.  But he… said we could borrow it for the night, you know?”

                “That’s crazy.”

                “Yeah, I know, right?  Wanna get going now?” asked Brad politely, moving to the passenger side door so he could open it for Carly to get in.

                “How ‘bout I drive?” said Carly coyly.  Brad frowned and smiled, shaking his head.

                “Ohhhh, I don’t know about that, Carly.  My dad said…”

                “…your DAD said…” interrupted Carly, moving closer to Brad and putting a finger on his nose.  “That WE could borrow the car for the night, didn’t he?”

                “Yeah, but…”

                “So… why not?  C’mon, I’ve never gotten in a single accident in two years, never even been pulled over.  What do you say?” purred Carly, using her feminine charms and good looks to her full advantage, inching closer to her date with each word.

                Reluctantly brandishing the keys, Brad nodded, handing them to her.  “As you wish, m’lady,” he said jokingly, opening the driver’s door for her and heading around to the side.  Gleefully, Carly leapt in, chuckling to herself at how easy that had been.  The ironic part for her, though, was that even if Brad had driven up in a rusty bathtub on wheels, she still would’ve wanted to drive.

                Rotating the ankle of her right foot, Carly smiled down at the navy blue modest heel she had chosen to wear this evening, and wrapped her knuckle against the side.  Giggling, she felt wild thrashing from underneath her warm, wrinkled sole, desperately bidding for escape but knowing it was impossible.  If anything, she knew Jack wasn’t really trying to escape from his sister’s shoe and more just trying to appease her since, after all this time, he had well-learned that when she wore him in her footwear, she liked him fighting it uselessly the entire time.  Kicking at her heel, punching at the ball of her foot, wrestling with her toes... the works.  If he didn’t play the part and instead accepted his fate, he was usually subject to more severe stomping than usual as Carly walked on him.

                She chuckled again.  He had learned well.

                “What’s so funny?” asked Brad, taking a seat and buckling up.

                “Ohhhh… Nothing, nothing, just remembered something funny my dad said earlier today…”

                “Okay, well… there’s the ignition, just try to be careful when you… OOOMF!” coughed Brad as Carly, in one swift and smooth motion, inserted the key into the ignition, twisted it hard, revved the engine, and switched gears to reverse before slamming her right foot authoritatively down onto the pedal, sending them zooming down the driveway and into the street.  As she pressed down onto the pedal with her heel, Carly could feel the doughy flesh of her sole molding itself possessively over her brother’s frail form as he made a valiant effort to continue fighting, but finding himself unable to move whenever she pressed down on the gas pedal that hard.

                “I’ll give him that time as a break from the fighting,” thought Carly smugly to herself, switching gears again and pumping her foot down onto the pedal again, sandwiching her tiny brother between a cascading wall of sweltering flesh and the hard insole of her shoe.

 

                “Carly… seriously, just… just slow down, I’m serious now,” said Brad meekly, gripping the sides of the seat nervously as they roared down the road at least ten miles in excess of the speed limit.

                “Oh, don’t worry about a thing, Brad, I’ve driven one of these before,” smiled Carly, slamming her foot down harder and making them lurch forward in order to catch a yellow light.

                Never had the teen so much enjoyed driving a car.  She had, of course, done this to her brother before, but never in a car like this, with so much power.  The animalistic growl of the engine just made her more thrilled to go faster, applying more pressure and hammering her sole down on Jack’s puny form.  It made her feel positively alive, which was more than her brother was probably feeling at the moment.  She chuckled again.

                “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but… are you sure you’re not high or something, Carly?” Brad asked nervously, intrigued but nonetheless wary of Carly’s overly giddy and thrilled mood. 

                “Not at all.  Just… lovin’ life, you know?”

                “I can see that,” he smirked, his voice trailing off.

                “Why?”

                “Because… you know, this car's pretty valuable, and…”

                “The car, hmm?” Carly asked simply.

                “You too, of course!” he added quickly, writing it clearly off as a joke.  “Don’t get me wrong.”

                “Oh, I don’t think I do,” Carly added with a smirk.  “This the place you were talking about?”

                “Yep.  GTS Steakhouse.  It’s great.”

                “What’s the GTS stand for?” Carly asked curiously, putting on the turn signal and swerving somewhat recklessly into the parking lot of the classy-looking restaurant.

                “Oh, geez… I used to remember… I think it’s just the owner’s name or something.”

                “Kinda self-centered, huh?” Carly laughed.

                “Yeah.  Sorta…”

                “Let’s just decide it’s called… Geraldine Typhenius Stratford,” Carly added contently, quietly amused by her own odd joke.

                “Um… okay, sure, sure, anything you want, babe.”

                “What?”

                “Nothing.”

                “Okay,” Carly continued uncertainly, keeping her eyes on the road and mentally noting to herself that her brother would’ve laughed hysterically at the joke rather than making a face.

 

                “Are you pretty comfortable here?  I can ask them to move us if you want to a better spot,” Brad said pleasantly, unrolling his napkin and removing the silverware, careful not to push over the low-sitting, dimly lit candle in the center of the table.

                “Um, no I’m… fine,” Carly said, nodding to herself and patting her lap nervously.

                “Is something wrong?  You look a little…”

                “I’m fine,” Carly insisted quickly.

                “You don’t think it’s a nice place?”

                “I didn’t say that,” Carly snickered with some discomfort.  “I guess I’m just not used to these kinds of places.  “Fancy” for me is… like… Applebees, or something…”

                “I gotcha.  Well, I guess it does look a bit much from that perspective,” Brad agreed, looking around him before pushing out his chair and standing up.  “I’ll be right back.”  Carly nodded to her date before he turned and headed briskly for the restroom on the other side of the establishment.

                With a soft groan, Carly reached with her hands past the floor-length table cloth and fished down to her heel, sliding her fingers into the back and slipping it off, allowing it to drop to the ground.  As she arched her foot upward, she released her warm toes from their clenched position, which allowed Jack, who had been trapped between them, to tumble downward into his sister’s massive palm.  She quickly gripped him and brought him slowly and stealthily up to her lap, where she let him sit between her legs on the uneven terrain of her skirt.

                “Can you believe him?” she whispered with annoyance down to Jack.  “It’s our first date, or… or whatever this is… and… and… with this fancy place, and calling me babe, and…” she mumbled uncertainly, sighing at last.  “I don’t really know how to do this.”

                Jack looked up at her somewhat blankly, clearly worn out and hardly able to stand up after the painful roller coaster ride he had endured under his sister’s foot.  He shrugged up at her, scratching the back of his head with equal discomfort as he flopped down on his side from exhaustion.

                Carly giggled under her breath.  “You’d think you’d be used to this by now and not act like you just ran a marathon.  C’mon, it’s not so bad.  I even put a ton of perfume on myself so I’d smell nice; it’s gotta smell a little like flowers down there.”

                Jack nodded, swallowing hard, and peeped out an answer.  “Yeah, a little.”

                “Darn right it does,” Carly answered with false indignation, sliding her fingers back around her brother’s sides and picking him up closer to her face.  “Like a basket of roses and tangerines and sugar and spice and whatever,” she winked playfully at him, bringing him up to her lips and shifting her tone as she breathed heavily onto his chilly, nude body.  “What do you think it is?  What’s his deal?”

                “He’s probably intimidated,” Jack offered simply as he remained motionless in his sister’s casual grasp.

                “Yeah, no shit,” Carly murmured.  “But geez, is he overcompensating!  I mean, did you see the way he walks?  What is he even intimidated about?  He’s the one with all the money and stuff.”

                “He probably isn’t used to his dates looking like you,” Jack said with a smile.

                “Like what?”

                “Pretty.”

                Carly studied his face.  She didn’t know how much of him was lying and how much of him was just playing along.  All she knew was that it felt good to hear someone offer her some simple praise rather than trying to win her over in a grandiose, self-perpetuated instant.  Gently, she pressed Jack’s face into the plush, pink flesh of her mouth and kissed him before lowering him back to her lap.  “That’s why you’re my favorite brother, little bro.  Do you want to go back in now?”

                Meekly, Jack nodded his head no.

                Carly shrugged and slid her foot back into her shoe, minus its passenger.  “I guess if we’re going dancing later, you’ll have plenty of time down there anyway…”

                Jack’s eyes bugged out of his face with fear.  Carly snickered again.

                “What?  I need you to cushion my steps.  These shoes look good but they kinda suck for swing dancing.”

                Jack looked like he wanted to throw up from fear.

                “Only kidding, little bro, geez!  I mean, mostly… I’ll just keep you in the front of my shoe so your cute little skull doesn’t get smooshed like a grape, deal?”

                Before Jack could respond, Carly looked across the dark restaurant and spied Brad emerging from the bathroom.  Wadding Jack back into her fist, Carly looked down at her body, thinking quickly, then grinned to herself before propping the neck of her blouse up a little with her thumb.

                With a quick unrolling of her fingers, Carly allowed her brother to tumble down the interior fabric slope of her shirt.  She felt his tiny hands latching around her bra strap and hanging on for dear life.

                “Drop something down your shirt?” Brad chuckled as he arrived back at the table, taking a seat again.

                “Huh?  Oh, yeah… the straw wrapper fell down there after I opened it…”

                “Ah.  Well, you know… there was no need to get it out,” he added slyly, grabbing a hunk of bread from the basket and biting off a piece.

                “There… wasn’t?” Carly proceeded uncertainly.

                He shrugged.  “Well… you know, I could’ve… gotten it out for you… if you wanted.”

                Carly coughed under her breath, finally understanding where this was going.  As well, she could feel her brother’s tiny legs kicking harder and harder at the skin between her breasts as his grip started to give out, so she quickly tucked a thumb into her chest, jamming Jack behind the bra strap and halfway into the left cup of her bra.  She could feel him thrashing violently before clambering more fully inside the cup and coming to a rest, pinned heavily against Carly’s breast by the thick, curved surface of the cup.

                She smiled warmly to herself.  He really was learning.  More and more, every day, he was adjusting: doing things without having to be asked and punished first to make him do them.  Working, obeying, worshipping her.  Truly becoming her very own pet brother.  Maybe it was out of a desire to avoid the punishment rather than his own crazy love, but Carly didn’t really care about that as much.  What mattered to her was that he was listening.  That he was hers.  That she was in control, and he was okay with going along with it for his own benefit.

                Her eyes rose back up to make contact with Brad’s.  He was grinning snidely, his face smoldering a little for her.  He was obviously milking this moment for all it was worth.

                Carly’s upper lip curled as she stared at his face.  So confident.  So arrogant.  So self-assured.  So domineering.  She could tell already.  He had decided exactly where this evening was going before they even set foot in his car, and all of his pleasant formalities beforehand were just cover-ups.  She could see now the absolute lust in his eyes, undressing her mentally.  He wanted her body so desperately.  He didn’t care about her, or her needs, or meeting those needs no matter the cost to himself.

                Not like Jack did.

                “You could’ve gotten it for me, hmm?” Carly answered dryly, the date souring more and more for her with each passing second.

                “You bet, baby.  And I’m… very good at it, too.  I’m something of a fisherman,” he answered coolly. 

                “And I’ll bet you do it all the time.”

                “Oh, sure, but not like you’d think.  It doesn’t matter.  When I’m fishing, all I’m thinking about is me…” he continued, his arm sliding easily across the table and closer to Carly’s wrist.  “…and the fish.”

                “And if you like fishing,” Carly continued, matching the lustful tone of her date.  “Then I’ll bet you’re pretty used to things getting… wet.”

                “The wetter, the better,” Brad whispered under his breath, his hand snaking up Carly’s smooth arm and up to her blouse, where, without hesitation, he cupped his hand around Carly’s left breast.

                “Then let’s get wet, you piece of shit,” Carly grumbled, and in one motion she had grabbed the ice water cup and doused Brad in it.  He yelped from the cold, throwing himself back against his seat and looking absolutely dumbfounded, accidentally knocking the bread basket to the floor in the process.  The restaurant seemed to fall silent, with waiters stopping in their tracks and the surrounding diners turning in their chairs to view the drama.

                “You little bitch.  Who the hell do you think you are?” Brad snarled, wiping the back of his hand across his sopping bangs.  A couple of gasps broke out from the restaurant goers, who could now overhear the whole conversation in the quiet.

                “Is there a problem over here, honey?” a middle-aged waitress asked sweetly to Carly, coming to stand behind her protectively.

                “Yeah.  You might say that,” Carly said simply.

                “That so?” the waitress answered simply, raising an eyebrow at Brad.  There was no smile on her face.

                “Carly, what the… what…” Brad mumbled, his tone softening but his confusion clearly only worsening.  “How can you do this to me?  After I brought you here and all.  What kind of girl are you?  We… we were working so well together, and…”

                “Maybe you were working well with yourself.  So why don’t you take that hand of yours and go stick it between your own two legs?” Carly remarked sardonically.

                “I can get girls worth ten of you to love all over me any time I want,” Brad answered angrily as a waiter walked up to him, tapping him on the shoulder and grunting softly, indicating it was time for him to leave.  “Any.  Damn.  Time.  I.  Want.”

                “Fine.  Then go do them.  They’re probably a lot easier, anyway,” Carly finished, standing up to leave.  “I’m worth a lot more than that.  Besides, I’ve got all the love I need already,” she smiled, patting her palm over her heart and feeling her brother’s tiny body inhaling and exhaling slowly against the warm flesh of her breast inside the bra cup.

                “What the hell have you got in there, anyway?  It was all…” Brad muttered as the waiter grasped his arm and tried to pull him up, interrupting his sentence.  “All right, all right, pal, I got you!  Let go of me!”

                “Thanks for a lovely evening, Brad,” Carly stated in her trademark sugar-sweet voice, and without another word headed for the door of the restaurant, marching confidently out into the cool evening air.  She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, which had seemed so far gone inside the hoity-toity nonsense world of overt elegance the people inside seemed to think they exuded.  Especially Brad.  Carly could see now that he was no different than the others.  Worse, even.  With a sigh, she kicked the uncomfortable heels off and let them sit in the grass for a moment.

                “It’s better out here, anyway,” Carly said simply, looking over across the street from the restaurant at the other shops that were more her style.  She arched her foot against the soft earth, letting the cool grass blades slide softly between her toes and invigorate her.  She pinched the fabric of her shirt at the neck and peered down inside, allowing the bra cup to tip open slightly.  “Want a burger or something, little bro?” Carly said lovingly down into her bra.  “Or… you know, whatever the equivalent is for a shrimp like you.  Like a shrimp cocktail.”

                “Fine,” Jack said simply, unpeeling himself from the tanned, sweaty flesh contained inside his sister’s bra so he could look up at her.

                “You didn’t think that was funny?”

                Instantly, Jack’s face changed to that of a smile, and he chortled weakly a few times.  “It was.  You’re right, Carly.”

                “Good to hear it.  I’ll let you out in a few minutes, then,” Carly giggled, covering her shirt back up and heading toward the curb of the street.  She didn’t care that his answer was fake.  All that mattered was that he knew he had to say it.  He understood better than any other man she thought she would ever meet how much she was worth. 

                She was no longer an ordinary girl, and she never had been.  She was a goddess through and through, and every time she wanted to remind herself of it, she just had to pat her hand against the warm body lodged inside her bra.  Close to her heart, like always.

                “Love you more than anything, bro.  More than you could ever know,” Carly whispered down her shirt, a big grin spread across her brightly angelic face.

Chapter End Notes:

Please comment!

You must login (register) to review.