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Story Notes:

Well, I warned you I’d do it someday. So here it is: the alternate reality, non-canon timeline where you’ll see this twisted goddess-and-slave/sister-and-brother team of Carly and Jack engage in all their dirtiest dreams together.

The line-up isn’t exact, but this one essentially picks up somewhere in the final chapters of A Little Blackmail 3: Life of a Toy, just before Sophie arrives and throws a size-changing curveball on the situation. If you haven’t read the other stories in the series, you’ll probably find yourself a little lost on the narrative. More than anything, this story is for anyone who wished things had gone differently, and happily ever after, at the end of the main Blackmail trilogy.

There’s no sequel numbering attached to the title because, again, this isn’t part of the main series. Hopefully this turns into the sexiest example of the butterfly effect ever. Enjoy!

Author's Chapter Notes:

Carly and Jack's new union dodges the bullet of their cousin Sophie, allowing them to live on in their newfound harmony.

            “That’s my little boy…” your titanic sister purrs seductively, kissing the back of your head with her moist, pillowy lips again as she cradles you in her palms.

            Her fingers explore every trembling corner of your nearly three-inch body. Her golden locks hang around you in an angelic cataract, those oceanic irises glued to you with utter reverence. After all, it’s not every day you promise your very soul to a girl like her. Those plump lips part again: “That’s my sweet, sweet little boy. I’m so proud of you, and I love you more than you can ever know.”

        “I love you too, Carly,” you whisper, respectfully kissing her soft fingertip in kind, as your gorgeously tanned monument of a sibling leans back in over you.

        “Let’s play a game, Jack…” your sister sighs. Her tongue slakes up your legs, drenching you back in her saliva and warming you to the bone as the gooey substance dribbles over you. At the instant of contact, though, something else happens entirely than the moist, sensual delight you can normally anticipate from Carly’s mouth.

            Realization hits you on a molecular level. Like a stroke ripping through your body.

            “W-Wait. Please…” you gasp as the nightmarish concept infects your brain, though you can’t help but shudder and restrain a moan as the enormous, muscular tongue pins your pathetically miniscule junk against your waist. She’s so strong, so sure, and she’s using all that potency to make you happy. It’s almost beyond imagining.

            You don’t want this moment to end, ever. But you also now understand with apocalyptic clarity that it will end, if you don’t speak up now.

            “What is it?” Carly murmurs dreamily, taking another slurp on your lower body and planting a soft peck against your skin. “Hmm?”

            “I’m… I’m so sorry…”

            “For what?” she giggles cutely. “For taking so long to figure out that you’re mine? I already forgave you for that, a long time ago. Even if it didn’t seem like it. I always did. I… always knew you could do it.”

            “N-No… that’s not it.”

            “Then what are you sorry for?”

            “For… for…” you whimper, the tears already bubbling up behind your lids. “Sophie f-found me t-too.”

            The cerulean orbs of your sister’s enormous eyes widen, her mouth pulling away with agonizing slowness from your legs. Your body tingles from deprivation, screaming in an animal frenzy at you for halting the progress of this most holy of unions taking place. The hair stands on end.

            “She what?”

            “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I was… t-too afraid of what you’d say or do, or… or…” you continue, the blubbering taking over your tone. “P-Please, don’t be… don’t be upset C-Carly, I…”

            “No. Shh, shh, shh…” the nineteen-year-old coos. She brings a tender index finger up to your face, silencing you instantly with a gentle press of her padded digit to your flapping mouth. “Hush now, little bro. Don’t talk. Just listen to me.”

            You nod frantically, planting a miniature kiss on the swirled tip of the girl’s finger. Your heartrate was pounding at Olympic speeds a moment before, and though there’s still no definitive plan in place, the fact that Carly’s billboard countenance hasn’t been darkened by an oncoming monsoon of rage at your little misstep is all it takes to sooth you back down to normal. Already your little cardiac pulses have reduced down to the steady blip you might experience during a deep afternoon nap.

            After all, you’re in Carly’s hands now. You’re drenched in her saliva from kiss after kiss, warmed by her continually wafting breath, and you’re absolutely aching to feel more covering your exposed body. And by the sultry whisper emanating from those perfect lips of hers, she seems unbothered by this tricky turn of events.

            Why should it worry you, then?

            “Now. She found you. Sophie found you. And I found you with Chloe. Did anyone else?”

            Quaking, you shake your head in the negative, and feel Carly’s fingers wrapping more snugly around your limbs for emotional support. You’re coiled quickly into the cushioned sandwich of her palms, right where you belong.

            “You’re positively sure?”


            “Remember what I said? Just shake your head yes or no and let big sissy handle this, okay, Jackie-poo?” Carly mutters calmingly. She presses a thumb against her own lips in a silent shush, reminding you of this mandate. Instantly you reseal your vocal cords and cuddle closer into her cupped hands. Of course she’s right. There’s no need for you to speak right now.

            “I’m not worried about Chloe. But Sophie’s different. Did she hear very much?”

            You gulp down a lump you could’ve easily mistaken for your own fist. Wearily, you nod.

            “Does she know what we’ve done together? And for how long?”

            You nod again.

            “Does she think you want to run away from me?”

            The trembling is getting to the point that even Carly’s squeezing fingers can’t quite manage you, odd a realization as that is. You bow your head back down against your sister’s digits, watching your tears stream down the curvature of her thumbprint. At last, coughing dryly in your desiccant throat, you nod your head.

            “Hey. Hey, now,” Carly lullabies, rocking her palms from side to side. “It’s all right, little bro. I know she must’ve said some things to you to make you say what she wanted you to. I don’t blame you. Not at all. Understand? You can talk again.”

            “Y-Yes,” you sniffle, burrowing your face deeper into your giant sister’s shuffling fingers. Sorrow is ready to leak out of just about every orifice if you don’t find some relief soon.

            “Come out of there,” she entreats. Propping her thumb against your chest, she nudges you out of her closing fingers and forces you into a comfortable reclining position against her curved digits, allowing your tears to continue cascading down your reddening cheeks and down to your bare body. “Just look at me, little bro. This is very important. Is there anything I need to know that you told her?”

            “She knows h-how… how I g-got like this… the chemicals, and… and electricity, together. She knows that’s h-how it happened…” you sputter, perhaps more ashamed of this than anything you’ve ever been in your life, and considering the life you’ve had, especially in the past five years as a naked, mewling sexual experiment for your twisted baby sister, this is no small feat. The words feel corrosive as they leave your lips, leaving an acidic residue on the back of your throat. “C-Carly, p-please… please forgive m-me… I…”

            “I said that’s enough now, Jack. Stop it,” your sister orders in the most loving timbre possible. She cradles your chin in the crook of an upturned finger, forcing you to crane your neck back up toward those glowing blue moon-eyes of hers just above as they bore into your very soul with that special brand of selfish altruism Carly thrives on. “You’re mine. Nobody else’s. We both know that now, forever. And there’s no way I’m letting anything come in the way of that. Understand?”


            “Do you trust me, little bro?” she sings sweetly, dipping her mouth back into her hands just above your sprawling nude body. That animated tongue of hers flickers out between the rosy barrier of her lips, slicking a fresh, lukewarm line of her lovely slime up your torso: a promise.

            Of ownership, and deliverance.

            “Of course,” you swear in a low croak, melted instantly back into her palm, any remaining muscle stiffness on the part of your perceived betrayal quickly forgotten.

            How could you have doubted her for even an instant?


            “I’m TELLING you, he’s IN here somewhere!” Sophie screamed as your uncle restrained her by the elbows. She dug her heels into the dorm floor, thrashing and spitting as the words shredded up her throat. A campus police officer leaned into the door jamb, jotting down notes on a sketchpad pulled from his pocket.

            On top of the dresser rested the spray bottle of hastily concocted classroom chemicals, along with the emergency purse-accessory taser that Sophie brought along to attack Carly for all the assumed crimes against humanity she’d heard related from the shrunken ghost of Jack Arton over the Christmas break.

            “Honey, please… just…” your Aunt Selina sighed as she sat on the bed in a useless attempt to restore peace. She kept an arm protectively wrapped around your mother, who appeared more than a little traumatized by this bizarre reminder of her son’s disappearance five years ago, judging by the trembling in her hands and swelling pink beneath her eyelids. “…just try to calm down and think through what you’re saying, this… this is-”

            “It’s not CRAZY!” Sophie screamed, her feet windmilling clumsily at her father’s shins in a desperate bid for escape. Tears plunked down her cheeks and to the floor below. “I saw him, I… t-talked to him. He’s still alive. Do you understand? He’s just… t-tiny! And she’s… she’s GOT him, she’s been TORTURING him all this fucking time!”

            “I think we’d better get moving,” your uncle murmured to Selina, wrapping strong arms around his daughter into a restrictive embrace as she continued to rave and foam in the direction of Carly in the corner, where your lanky, tanned cherubim of a sister has been poised with docile innocence and an even more angelic look of loving compassion than usual, her own deep blue eyes welled with empathetic saltwater.

            “We’re all… going home,” your mother Leah sighed blearily, hobbling up to her feet after the staggering shock of Sophie’s outburst and the subsequent rush to the campus in the hour’s aftermath. She crossed the room, folding into the waiting arms of her only remaining child for a consolation hug that rocked them both back and forth over the creaking floor.

            “We can have an officer come by and take her in. Not to be booked, just… until things calm down here,” the security coughed, tucking his pad back into his shirt pocket and crossing his arms as he eyes your unfortunately hysterical cousin.

            “That won’t be necessary, sir,” Selina insisted, trying to take hold of her daughter’s hands for comfort, but only finding them slapped away and punctuated by a rebellious humph from Sophie. “Please. We’ll take care of this. And I apologize that any of this was necessary to begin with.”

            “C’mon, honey,” Leah whispered lovingly in her own daughter’s ear as the pair made their way back toward the door. Nodding reassuringly, the towering blonde squeezed her mother into a tight hug, leaning her head against her considerably shorter parent’s. With that, the emotionally jarred extended family began filing out the door one at a time, with Selina in front followed by Sophie and her other parent, just in case the distraught teen made another break for it.

            “I won’t let you do this, Carly!” Sophie croaked, her words devolving back into moist sobs once she realized she’d resoundingly lost this battle. “I know you have him! Somewhere! I swear to God, if… if something happens to him, you won’t be able to cover it up, I’ll make SURE that-”

            “That’s enough,” her father barked sharply as the security officer pressed open the door at the end of the dormitory hall. Curious co-ed onlookers peeked out their doors at the tragic parade.

            “Don’t pay attention to her, honey,” Leah breathed to Carly, dabbing away a trickled tear with her knuckle. “We just need to get home and forget about all of this, all right? Spend some time together. You know? So just ignore her.”

            “Don’t worry Mom,” the young goddess responded, nibbling the corner of her lip and perfectly calibrating her voice to crackle with just the right amount of distressed quavering. “I will.”

            With her free hand, Carly traced a line down the small of her back, casually letting her digits hang just above the taut curve of her denim-clad ass, and caressed affectionately at the nigh-invisible lump that arose at the center of her coveted rump, where she’d stashed her most valuable possession in the whole world: the one place none of them would’ve possibly thought to look for the specter of a long-vanished soul.


Chapter End Notes:

The next chapter will pick up shortly after the end of this one but, moving on from there, the chapters will skip around in time to focus on individual scenarios, similar to A Little Blackmail 4.

Please let me know what you think!

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