Sleepy Sister
Chapter 3
This whole situation was reminiscent of one of those tailing missions in stealth games. Where the target of the hour is blissfully unaware of the eyes trained on them from a distance. Sometimes A.I. can be wonky and unreliable, so the player can get much closer than a regular person reasonably should in situations.
Such as this, Mom was in her own world, one where clothing was unnecessary. The air of respect she excludes through her charming no-nonsense outlook and by the book’s mentality is nullified by her seeming lack of shame or care in her appearance. Two large tits jiggled in the cups of her bra from the ripples made by each step she took, no longer covered from cleavage to nipple. Her tight, jean-clad ass had its own spring to it that moved in tandem with her swaying round hips. Hips that revealed the straps of her pantie that could faintly be outlined behind the form-fitting bottom she wore.
It really did feel like watching an NPC in action, considering that he was making no effort to hide himself. In all regards, it was almost as though he wasn’t there. And his Mother most certainly wasn’t asleep, at least from a 3rd person’s view, that is. The way she unlocked the door and visibly waited (since her son was in the doorway), only to continue once he was outside with her and then locked the door, was something that only a fully conscious individual could do.
Mom walked down the three front steps; each one had a massively pleasing effect on her rack, making them jostle far more than her previous idle walk had.
The sight of her child feeders jostling like that distracted Marcus enough that it took him a bit too long to realize they were outside.
More specifically... she was outside, without a top, wearing only a bra that was a size too small for the udders on her chest.
Why didn’t she park in the garage?
Marcus thought back but quickly remembered the answer to that question.
Ah, right. He was supposed to take all the trash in there to the street. Dad had been working on a project out back before his trip and the clutter piled up.
Fortune had it that no one, not even his overly nosy neighbors, was outside at the time. Mom didn’t look to be in a rush; her blank glossy eyes were both expressionless and passively casual, revealing no desire to hide the body that she would otherwise keep entirely modest.
The woman got into the car, not caring whether Marcus entered with her or stayed there transfixed by the meaty rounded to her rump as she bent forward.
At the sound of the starting engine, Marcus made the quick decision to get into the passenger seat right as she was pulling out. He almost stumbled while doing so, but for his own sake, managed not to get crushed under the wheel of his asleep (yet aware) mother.
The drive they shared this morning was a quiet one. Their argument was fresh on their minds, and she wasn’t planning on letting him get the feeling that he was in her good graces.
In comparison to then, this drive was much more peaceful, all while still remaining just as silent. Mom had nothing to say, in a way his mother wasn’t even here. This woman was just an obedient puppet following orders. His mother is the one that chewed him out in the morning and kept going on about how he needs to mature and act his age. The woman right next to him is the version of Mom that is learning to obey her son rather than order him around.
And she’s doing a fine swell job at being obedient.
Just as it had been written, she drove to the bank and withdrew the instructed amount to the exact cent. Observing her from the passenger seat, his heart thumped harder than predicted. Much of this was just winging things, but even still, he started to have his doubts about joining her in the car. There could be a chance that withdrawing this amount of money is the straw to break the camel’s back.
Marcus wouldn’t have the easiest time explaining things if she were to wake up here in nothing but her underwear at the bank, that’s for sure. At least if the spell broke while he was out of sight, that wouldn’t put him down as a suspect in her eyes.
But that bumbling concern proved pointless in the end. With her glazed eyes, his mother retrieved the money, acting entirely casual while doing so. From an outsider’s perspective, this was just an attractive middle-aged woman choosing to withdraw her own money wearing only underwear. Certainly not an asleep woman being puppeted around by her own son, made to help him cover up his own mess so she won’t become suspicious of him later.
Simerly, in the sleeping mind of his mother, she was having a typical trip to the bank. Context didn’t appear to apply when “Sleepy Mommy” came out to play. There does remain much room to work out how exactly this effect works, but from what he has to go off of, he’s growing more confident in his understanding.
As long as she’d do the action awake, it seemed like she wouldn’t have much issue doing the same thing while asleep..
Marcus eyed the money she withdrew. Two hundred dollars sat between the creamy thickness of her thighs and the seat beneath her. While being sure not to touch her, he grabbed the cash, eying his mother with lingering hesitance.
For her part, she didn’t seem concerned that he had just taken her two hundred. All she would notice missing from her purse would be the hundred he used to purchase the music box, meaning the rest...
He took out five twenty-dollar bills and rolled them up before shoving the wad into his pocket.
Mom began her return drive home; the woman’s foggy irises looked straight ahead as any aware person would going down busy streets. The subtle bumps in the road had her melons ripple sporadically; his eyes were glued to the figure he had never realized his mother possessed up until this hour. Credit where credit is due, she expertly concealed such a child-birthing build throughout his entire life. He was blissfully unaware that his sister wasn’t the only woman in the house worth getting hard for.
The moment she chose to change out of her work clothes couldn’t have had more unfortunate timing. For her, at least.. If she was caught in her typical conservative state of dress, he would have continued to see her as just his mother.
But now she placed herself as a target of his desire, right next to her daughter.
This realization just built up his idolization of Emma all the more. Especially now that he can see the type of figure she is going to grow up to possess.
It took a tremendous amount of unobstructed focus not to touch the meaty thighs of his mother directly beside him. Or so much as cup those heavy jugs jiggling on her chest. Just as it had been last night, like mother like daughter, they both are tempting without trying to do so.
But the threat of Mom waking up here and now was enough to hold back any of his idiotic impulses. Sleepy Mommy is here to fix his problems with her awake half, not cause any more shit to deal with.
The car pulled into the driveway, just as it does nearly every day, then moments after bringing the vehicle to a stop and shutting off the engine, she removed her buckle and excitedly.
Marcus found himself distracted watching the car’s strap pull out from between her boobs, it sliding out like a cock would after getting its cream squeezed dry with her cleavage. The sheer casual stride she held was just as surreal as it was with Emma last night.
When their minds go to sleep, their body is left like empty-minded puppets. Clearly, they’re still conscious, aware, and obedient enough to function identically to how they would when awake.
He watched in silence as the underwear-clad woman walked up the front steps with a keyring in hand.
She’d unlock the door and then close it behind her, save for her lack of clothing; she was basically interchangeable with her awake self.
This really was just like a video game...
Once her round pantie-swallowing ass swayed through the open doorway and the front door shut behind her, Marcus was able to regain his focus.
Did she lock the door behind her?
Patting his pockets, he noticed a distinct lack of keys.
“Shit,” Marcus seethed to himself, getting out of the car.
He glanced around the general area. The green lawn was in need of mowing; though it didn’t look horrendous to him, he knew Mom would begin harassing him any moment now to get it sorted out. But the grass was the last thing on his mind at the moment.
Maybe he should at least check to see if she closed the door first before he freaks out.
As Marcus stepped over the driveway, his absently wandering gaze took notice of the hose that lay strewn over his neighbor’s lawn. It created a faint wheezing hum as water sprinkled out of the tap, leaving a growing puddle in its wake.
That wasn’t on before...
Hopefully, the neighbors hadn’t decided to do any late afternoon watering. No one should be out and about in this quiet cul-de-sac at this time of day.
Otherwise, that could create questions akin to his mother being out with her son while she is wearing nothing but her bra and panties.
That said, there isn’t anyone out here that he can actually see. His paranoia is probably just running in unnecessary circles.
Currently, he’s much more inclined to figure out how to get back into this damn house.
Maybe leaving Emma to do all of his homework isn’t the wisest long-term decision. Because after spending what felt like thirty minutes testing the locks on each window in reach, he only then realized that the garage opener was waiting for him innocently in the car. He conducted his own personal walk of shame back inside the house, shuffling through the junk that still needed to be moved to the street.
Upon returning inside, Marcus was ticked with his mother. Judging by everything she has done in her sleeping state, the woman was aware enough of her surroundings to consider that her son was still outside. What she did was a choice, possibly even a way for her subconscious to get back at him.
Or this could be another case of him not knowing much about how things work yet.
Either way that doesn’t change the fact that he’s upset.
Mom’s bedroom door was closed when he approached, locked just as it had been when she was initially placed under. It’s odd that she made sure both the doors to her house and bedroom were locked exactly how they were before she interacted with them.
Could she be covering her tracks?
Marcus pressed his ears close to the door, holding his breath while listening in for any noticeable sounds. His efforts were rewarded by detecting the rhythmic tell of her steady breathing.
She’s asleep.
Again.
Or... well, she was always asleep.
He released his grip on the cold door handle and took a few steps back. Assumedly once the commands written have been completed, she’s left in this dormant resting state. One that leaves her feeling energized as Emma had this morning.
Marcus took his leave, returning to his room to gather his thoughts. As he walked, his hand inched downwards into his pocket, feeling the five twenty-dollar bills rolled together; the teenager felt a sly smirk of contentment begin to form.
Things are starting to look up.
—
Perhaps he assumed too soon..
“Uhm. Excuse me? Marcus!” Mom’s voice pierced through the air.
Knock-Knock-Knock
Marcus’ bedroom door rattled heavily on its hinges.
“Why is the door locked? Open it.”
“Uh—” He began to stammer a couple of words but was cut off.
Knock-Knock
“Now.” The woman behind the door wracked her knuckles against it with more forceful gusto. Though the pitch of her voice never grew past her initial sharp pitch.
Since it is obvious that Marcus had no choice in the matter, her lack of willingness to bother straining her vocal cords was perhaps much more threatening than if she had chosen to yell.
It goes to show that when she’s awake, all of that freedom and control he felt between his fingertips flies right out the window.
Marcus spied the time, 8:25 pm. Did she really rest for just a little more than an hour? He had hoped for privacy for longer than that. With Dad out on a business trip, Mom knocked-out tired, and Emma studying with friends, he assumed it was the perfect chance to let out the “stress” that had been building up in his loins. Especially considering how pent-up Emma and Mom left him as of recently. The latter of which he only now understood as worthy of being jerked off to. It made him wonder how many other people aren’t just “average” in regard to his attraction to them.
But regardless, it looked like he won’t be finishing his load anytime soon, “Shit.” He breathed silently, “S-Sorry, Mom. I didn’t know it was locked.”
“Sure you didn’t.” He could almost hear her tapping her feet against the carpet.
“I- F-F-FFFfffffnnnn~” As Marcus rose from the bed, shuffling on his clothes, he could feel his cum unloading in his pants. “I-I’m,” He sighed, both satisfied and disappointed that his release came in such a disconcerting manner. “I’m coming.”
“You better.”
“I am,” He said with an annoyed shake of his head. As he approached the door, the sticky, uncomfortable warm texture of his cum taunted him with each step.
Right as Marcus opened the entrance to his bedroom, he opened his mouth to speak, but Mom was quicker on the draw. “Why was the door locked? We had this talk before, son.”
“I-I’m—” Marcus gulped under the presence of her stern gaze.
The woman’s blue eyes looked on with anticipation. She appeared genuinely interested in what excuse he’d have to say.
Actually, every time he does get in trouble with her, he always resorts to some kind of excuse. This time it wouldn’t hurt to attempt another tactic; either way, he’s still “in the doghouse” as she loves to put it.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have locked it.”
Mom’s brow raised as her mouth opened. Those soft pillowy lips remained parted for a few seconds, though nothing but her warm breath escaped. She closed her lips shut again and shared a skeptical look. “Have you been actually taking your sister’s advice? Wow.”
Marcus blinked; from the look on her face, he could see her appear less antagonized, if only slightly. It’s as if she had expected an argument to form, one that she’d inevitably win since she has the final say here.
“Yeah, and- yeah, I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have locked it. I know you said—”
“As long as I’m paying for this roof, you keep your door unlocked,” Mom repeated, her voice holding a light chiding tone. “So don’t do it again.”
“Yes, Mom,”
Mom pursed her lips, the woman’s intelligent eyes scanning her son in silence. “Mmmm... Anyway, you wanted me?”
“What?”
The woman sighed and leaned against the wall; Marcus noticed that even with the baggy blouse she wore, now that he witnessed her curves without clothing, he could easily visualize her hourglass figure beneath those layers.
“You knocked on my door. Was it two hours ago? You said you wanted to talk to me. Right? I think I have fallen asleep.”
“Oooh~” Marcus said, more to himself than her, “r-right.. you... you seemed tired.”
“I was,” Mom breathed again, this time more heavily than before. Marcus spied how her breasts pressed against the front of her blouse as the woman’s large rack expanded from the intake of breath. “I definitely was... but, honestly, I’m feeling much more alive now.” She licked her lips, “So what did you want?”
What does he want?
Many things. Maybe his bossy uptight professional mother worshiping her son on her knees while his sister is lovingly sitting her fat ass on his lap as she is busy doting on her little brother. To make the two women that are trying to manipulate him into changing devote themselves to servicing him. Making sure he never has to worry about anything ever again, and all the while apologizing for the times they ever tried to change him. Emma would insist that he always refers to her as his big sis, and Mom would serve as his own personal jester existing solely for his entertainment.
That’s not asking for too much, right?
“I just wanted to show you my grade,” Marcus said, none of the true desires that sam through his head. Instead, choosing to say something that a successful woman would like to hear from her children. “It got a perfect score!”
“Oh, that. Your sister told me, good job.”
That’s it?
Marcus blinked twice. Sure, he “cheated” (arguably though he didn’t do anything, Emma was the one that did the actual cheating there by doing his work for him), but he expected Mom to act more positively there. The only reason he’s in the dog house is that he got an absolutely abhorrent score on his last big exam.
“Mom, it- it wasn’t a high score. It was perfect.”
“Yes. I heard.” Mom said.. She raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I like to see. Good job. Now do that some more.”
His mother nodded at that, having said all that she seemingly needed to. She moved away from the wall and turned to leave, “I’m not going to cook anything tonight. You can warm up some leftovers if you get hungry.”
“W-What, I- can I at least get my computer back now?”
The sway of Mom’s hips as she wandered down the hall came to a pause. He could make out the back of her beautifully long brunette locks as she audibly laughed before saying, “Ah~ so that’s where this was going. I expected much. And, no. I don’t need to say this, but you’re still in the dog house.. One good score isn’t going to make everything right.”
“Y-Yeah, but this wasn’t just good. This was perfect.” Marcus grabbed the sheet off his desk and raised it, trying to make it clearly apparent to the woman.
In response, Mom glanced back only to roll her eyes. “I expect to see an overall improvement in you. That means more than just your work. You are eight-teen now.. not a kid anymore. I shouldn’t “have” to take your computer. Yet I do. And only after your computer is confiscated do you get a perfect score. That’s the problem.” she heard his protesting sigh and just continued walking back to her room.
But she stopped after a few steps. “You know,” in a quick moment, her flowing hair swished over her shoulders as she swung her head back towards her son. “Now that I think about it, you keep bringing up the word, ‘perfect.’” A suspicious glint reflected in her intelligent ocean-blue eyes. “Tell me, Marcus. Did you cheat?”
“What?” Marcus was quick to gulp and refute that claim, “No, I didn’t! Come on, Mom! Why can’t you just be proud of me?”
“I am proud of you, honey. If you didn’t cheat, of course.” She approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
When the clock hit 10:30 pm, I knew I had stayed at Elizabeth’s place two hours too long. My portion of the assignment had been more or less completed before even showing up, but this is a group effort kind of situation, so I’d much rather make sure everyone was putting in the work rather than dealing with the consequences later. Though with that said, I’m not going to let these girls rip me out of my sleep schedule again.
“We can continue this tomorrow. I’m out way past curfew.”
“For you, curfew is at, like, what? Three in the afternoon?” Elizabeth retorted from the kitchen.
Right beside me on the couch, Abby chuckled through her mouthful of oreo ice cream. The bubbly blond found nearly any joke humerus, the fact that Elizabeth got a laugh out of her shouldn’t say much.
“Well, early to bed, early to rise,” I smirked and rose up. “I’ll see you sleepwalking to class in the morning, right?”
Elizabeth exited the kitchen with her own bowl of ice cream, “Hell yes you will, can’t wait.”
I’m not sure how they can afford the mental strain of staying up late on a regular basis, especially when they’re forcing themselves into so much anguish in the morning. That’s just the contrast between our lifestyles, I suppose. At the end of the day, they’re doing pretty well in their studies, so who am I to butt in?
Granted, I’m doing much better, but this isn’t a competition. If it were one, though, I’d be on top.
I cruised into the driveway, instinct almost had me open the garage door, but Marcus still hadn’t dealt with the mess in there. And Mom specifically told me to avoid reminding him, I think she wants to see him take initiative and deal with the clutter on his own accord..
That said, she didn’t mention anything about laying down a couple of hints here and there; maybe an absent comment on how messy the garage is would be enough to jumpstart the lad’s brain. At this point, too, it’s starting to annoy me; we shouldn’t have to park outside when there is perfectly good space that just needs to be cleared out.
But I guess it’s not a big deal. I’m more of a walker than a driver, anyway.
Once inside, I noticed that the majority of the house was cast in the darkness of night; not many lights were turned on, and I had to flick switches as I moved past. The house gradually grew more illuminated with each switch, up until I made it to the upstairs hall. There I saw a stream of light coming from the master bedroom.
Oh boy, that was the only source of light in the damn house.
From the years of experience I’ve gained living here, that could only mean one thing...
“Sup Mom~ Mark~” I poked my head through the doorway, looking into the master bedroom; I saw Mom sitting in her favorite reading chair beside the window, holding her money bag. Meanwhile, my little brother was in a much less padded fold-up chair with Mom’s old laptop situated on his lap.
Marcus glanced up at me; there was a pleading longingness in his quivering eyes. Oh boy, I leave for a few hours, and he’s already gotten himself into a boatload of trouble.
I was going to ignore him; whatever happened, Mom is anything but unfair. If he’s in trouble, it’s deserved. But the look on his face was hard to just brush aside. That’s the curse that comes with being the reliable older sister..
“Welcome back, dear,” Mom said, a warm smile on her lips. She had a hand in her money bag as she spoke. Meanwhile, Marcus looked like he was ready to bolt at any moment.
“What happened?” I eyed the way Mom counted her money with high-speed efficiency. “He didn’t take any money again, right?” Saying this, my gaze moved back onto my brother. The look I gave him wordlessly conveyed the information that if he did something that stupid, there wasn’t any way I could, or would want to, bail him out.
“No,” Mom said with a sigh and an air of finality, “I just have a feeling your brother is up to something.” She focused her sharp eyes on Marcus while speaking, “Mother’s instinct and all that~ anyway~” her hands zipped closed the money bag, and she placed it back inside her purse resting on the desk beside her. “Did you need something?”
Well, at least he’s not dumb enough to try taking a single dollar out of Mom’s pocket. Keeping track of things is literally written in her job description; there’s no way he, or anyone for that matter, can get away with snatching out of her overflowing cash reservoir without her noticing.
“I was just wondering what’s up.” I pointed a finger, “He in trouble?”
“Hmm, your brother? No, I just have my own suspicions about things. I want him to do his homework in front of me. Just this once.”
I gave my brother a lingering gaze, then looked back at Mom, “Wait, do you think he cheated?”
“Well, I do think something is going on. Whether that is cheating or not, we will find out.”
“Oh my god, Mom!” I rolled my eyes and crossed both arms under my breasts. “What makes you so sure? Maybe he just worked hard.”
“Honey, I am a mother of two kids, one of which is constantly getting into ridiculous situations, and co-own a law firm. I think I can figure out when someone is up to something.” With a sigh, Mom reclined in her chair, “Also, he needs to write out an essay, and I’m not going to just hand him back his electronics and turn my back.”
“Okay yeah, that’s fair. He’d probably just start playing games again and not get any work done.”
“Emma!” Marcus protested from his fold-up chair.
“What?” I shrugged, “Am I wrong?” He looked dejected, so I continued. “But we can tag out; I’ll watch him for a bit.”
“Really?” Mom’s eyes appeared to brighten at that. “That’s great. There is some work I need to get to before getting ready for bed.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I can spare like thirty minutes before I head to sleep.”
“Sounds great.” The mother of two got up from her chair and gently patted her son on the head, “It’s unfortunate that we have to treat him like this. But it is what it is. Now go with your sister.”
It must’ve been embarrassing for Marcus, having to be passed around like he were some toddler that can’t be trusted. But when he acts like a fool, he’s going to be treated like one. And it doesn’t help that he does things like insist on calling me “Big sis” all the time. He really does need to grow up, or this is going to be his life.
“Mark, dude..” I said the moment my bedroom door closed behind me, “You need to fix this. Or she’s going to treat you like this forever.”
“I’m trying to, I mean- I-I-I-I—”
I dropped my butt down on the edge of my bed, bouncing from the cushions with my arms crossed over my chest. “I-I-I- get it out.”
“I-I got a perfect score! I’m trying to do better.” He grumbled, placing the laptop on my desk. “She’s just being a b- a jerk.”
“She’s treating you how you want to be treated. You know, like a kid? Because that’s how you act a lot of the time.”
“Do kids get perfect grades?”
“You’re really driving that into the ground,” I laughed, “Also, yeah, sometimes they do. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a good start! But there’s other things you need to do.”
“Like what?”
“Like...” My eyes wandered the room for a moment before landing on the light blue trash bin near my closet.
“What?” He followed my gaze, “I should take out the trash.”
“I guess. Maybe you should just do your chores without anyone asking. Or...” Keeping my eyes on the trash, I tried to hint towards something obvious, “Isn’t there something that needs to be cleaned out somewhere?”
“My room?” Marcus took a seat at my desk. While I was trying to tell him that he should clean the garage without outright saying it, he appeared not to pay me any mind. Instead, he was scribbling something on a piece of paper.
“Uggghh~” I exhaled a heavy sigh. It’s far too late for me to try anything here. My goal to get him away from Mom was a success; I think that scored me enough good sister points for the day. “Nevermind. Just hurry up and finish your work. I’m ready to crash.” I said with a heavy yawn, dropping back on the bed to stare at the ceiling.
“That’s good.” He mumbled.
What’s that supposed to mean?
“Hey, sis. You’re a fast typer, right?”
“What?” I arched my head up, but my boobs mostly covered him from my perspective. “Oh, don’t even try it. I’m not going to do your work. Not in any friggin’ universe. It doesn’t matter how much you beg.”
“I know, I know. Begging doesn’t work anymore.”
“Damn right, so—”
Click
I paused mid sentence as the sound of music began to fill the room. Bouncing seemingly from all angles, It sounded.. fuzzy, yet familiar. “Huh~” I blinked twice in succession and began to lean up, “Mark what di—”
“—d you do?” I asked, kneeling next to my brother, who had just turned on-
“What?” He looked down at me confused. Sitting comfortably at my desk, he glanced between me and the laptop screen. His bouncing gaze drew my attention to the laptop. “I’m just proofreading my essay.”
“Proofreading...” My brow furrowed, and my eyelids fluttered sporadically. “Oh-O-Oh... so...” standing up from my knees, I scratched my arm as I questioned him, “So you’re done?”
“Yep,”
“O-Okay...” My eyes shifted around the room. I blinked to the floor, neck craning down.
Had I been kneeling?
“I’m s-sorry Mark, but...” shaking my head, I took a step back, “Wasn’t I just at the bed?”
Marcus gave me a perplexed look that must’ve matched my own, “No?” he responded with a genuine questioning tone. “You were making sure I wasn’t going to “goof off” and “play my stupid games."” As he spoke those words, I could sense his ire.
But that did sound like something, I’d say. That’s actually the exact reason we’re here, so it adds up.
A sudden yawn escaped my lips.
“Huh..” I muttered under my breath, then yawned again. “Dang.... I must be more tired than I thought...”
“Yeah, you actually fell asleep. I don’t think kneeling was the best way to stay awake.” He chuckled. “I could’ve started playing video games. Maybe I should’ve!”
“Har-har, funny. I’d have woken up the moment you started raging..” I smirked tirdly at him and ruffled his hair. “You know, I actually dreamed that I was at the bed, talking to you about friggin’ trash or something.” As I spoke another yawn came out, this one more aggressive than the last. “Ohh~ mmmm~ but it’s good that you’re done. I’ll tell Mom you didn’t goof off or anything.”
“Great!” My brother chimed while he was writing something down on a small sheet of paper.
Yawn
“What’s that?” I had to rub my tired eyes since the paper was so small, making his writing even harder to pick up on.
“Just some notes.”
“Notes. Notes... Great,” I took a verbal break to let out yet another heavy yawn, one that forced my eyes close. Clearly my body is trying to send the message that it’s time for bed. “Okay.. well,” Click “You can go b—“
“—back to your roo~oooophhhff~” My eyes jolted open, and I felt my legs abruptly tense and stagger forward. Instinctively I glanced down only to see my heavy bra-clad boobs jiggling against my chest, looking as though I had come off a sudden forward leap.
The desk in front of me was empty, with Marcus nowhere to be seen. Except I had just been talking to him, right?
And-
“Ayye~” A growing stinging sensation grew on my behind. I craned my neck back and arched around to take a gander at my ass. Why did my butt tingle? Both cheeks stung and looked to be a light shade of red.
“T-The hell?”
My right index finger poked into the squishy flesh of my asscheek; it sank in for a second before I promptly pulled back, as that only caused the idle stinging to build upon itself.
Naturally, none of this made any sense. I get that I’m tired, for some reason, despite having a great rest the night before. But to suddenly go from talking to my brother to standing alone in my bedroom wearing nothing but my underwear left me with a ton of questions.
One of which being, “Why the fuck....” I went straight into the closet and flicked on the light. Mounted on the wall was my full-body mirror. Standing in front of it, I spun around and turned to get a better look at my ass. “Holy shit...” I breathed. My tired eyes arrowed. And despite my daze, I swear on my left cheek, I could see the distinct outline of a hand mark.
My tired eyes squinted at the mirror, right towards my rear with uncertainty. I was sure of what I saw, yet conflicted all the same. It looked just like the mark someone would have after receiving a heavy slap on the ass. And it stung like one too.
Was that skin-to-skin? “Ooohhmmmm~” I lightly bit the corner of my lip while my fingers traced the gradually fading hand-print.
Okay, there’s no way this is another fucking dream.
Or was it? In the dim light, only illuminated by the lamp on my nightstand, I could’ve sworn I saw something shuffle in the dark.
Damn, I’m too tired for this.
Click
Fucking really? There’s that buzzing again.
I swear, if Marcus is playing some kind of prank on me while I’m trying to sleep, I’m actually going to beat some sense into him. And I wouldn’t even feel bad about it; sometimes, people have things coming to them. Like slapping my ass while I’m sleeping?
That’s the only explanation that would make sense here.
And what’s with that buzzing? It was faint, almost ignorable before, but the intensity of it continued to grow by the second.
I took a deep breath and closed my tired eyes as I left the closet; one lingering hand remained on my rear. “Marcus! If you’re in here, I promise you I’m gonna kick the sh—”
Beep-Beep Beep-Beep Beep-Beep Beep-Beep
The familiarly annoying buzz of the alarm on my nightstand combined forces with the early morning rays through my window to draw me awake.
“Uummmmmmhhhhhhmmmnn...” I moaned inaudible gibberish into my pillow and brought my hand out to silence this ear-piercing racket.
It took three attempts of my swinging hand, but with the skills created by years of reflex, I managed to hush the alarm without even giving it a gander. “Hehemmm...” more gibberish came from my throat, with my face still smothered by the pillow.
Peace and quiet, this was nice.
After staying there for who knows how much longer, I exhaled a heavy breath and began to roll from my side onto my back.
Then, my arms shot up into the air and...
YYYAAAWWWNN
My tired morning breath greeted the air whilst I unlocked those pesky bedtime cramps through a flexible stretch of my arms and arched spine. “Damn~” I groaned a pleasant sigh and crashed back onto the bed, my eyes staring at the ceiling fan that spun pleasantly above me in its incremental looping motion.
Shit, I feel good!
Just like yesterday morning, actually. It took leaning up to a sitting position and looking at myself in the mirror to realize I was grinning like an idiot.
I didn’t even realize I was that tired, from what I can remember last night didn’t leave me beat or anything. At most I was only marginally tired; but the body knows what the body wants more than anyone, I guess. And who am I to question a good night’s rest.
To my left sat the dinky looking music box, looking as plain as ever. Never judge a book by its cover. That thing is a lifesaver. That thing is literally giving me the kind of sleep I never even knew I needed.
I could practically kiss it right now.
With a little polishing, maybe I would.
A few moments passed as I swung my legs off the side of the bed and gave the box a once-over in silence, broken only by the morning chirping of the birds perched outside my window.
“Screw it,” I said, getting up to my feet and taking the box in hand.
Something this extraordinary needs to be treated well; I’ll wash it up, clean off all of that rust, and maybe even take it to campus with me and see if any of the girls can think of ways to spruce it up. The damn thing looks far too plain, considering how life-changing it has been in just two days.
It deserves better.
Much better.
I walked past the front of the bed, only stopping for a second to close the still-open closet door. Right before it closed shut I eyed myself in the reflection of the wall-mounted mirror. Oddly enough, I have a vague memory of standing in front of that mirror last night, or some other night. But I was only wearing my underwear; I think I had woken up from a sleep. It was obviously a dream of some kind. Considering how deeply passed out I was, vividly wild dreams might just come with the territory.
It had to have been a dream because.. well, I don’t sleep in my fucking underwear. I know some people do, but I have never been one of them.
I can’t remember much of that dream, but if the dream consisted of me sleeping and waking up in my underwear, I could safely say that whatever happened wasn’t worth remembering.
What happens in dreams should remain in dreams. If anything, I fully encourage them to become all the more wild; if it means I can feel even better in the morning, then I’m all for it.
Hell, bring it on! As long as I can sleep blissfully, it doesn’t friggin’ matter.