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Pedo Joke:
-Click for the punch line-

Candy Canes

by NoOneInteresting

mc; mg; mdom; mast; oral; inc

A gentle knocking sound came from the direction of the study door.

“Uh, Santa?”

Santa looked up from the paperwork that littered his desk.

“Yes, Bernard?”

“Uh, it’s David, sir,” replied David the elf.

“Right,” said Santa apologetically. “David, sorry. I don’t know why I keep calling you Bernard.”

“It’s all right, sir,” said the elf.

“So, what’s the problem, David?” asked Santa. It was just after Thanksgiving and the end of the year crunch was on. Santa knew the elves would only interrupt him at this point if it was something important. David crossed to the desk and slid a pair of attached sheets of paper toward the jolly, fat man.

“Trina down in R&L spotted this, sir,” said the elf. “It was elevated to me, but I thought this was a judgment you’d need to make.”

Most children—indeed, most people that still gave any thought to the Santa legend—believed the old man spent the year “making a list and checking it twice” but, with so many millions of children in the world, he’d long ago created a department of elves to do it for him. Requests & Lists, or R&L for short, handled the day to day grind of matching children’s requests for gifts with their yearly behavior profile (often believed to be the naughty and nice list). Generally, the better behaved the child was, the better their profile and the greater percentage of requested gifts they received. This solution worked very well for the vast majority of cases, but there were still a select few that Santa reviewed personally for various reasons.

“Oh?” said Santa as he flipped the top page (the child’s letter) out of the way and gazed at the page underneath. The profile broke the child’s behavior down into categories—like friendliness, honesty, cleanliness, obedience, etc.—and displayed them like a bar graph. The numbers he saw were so incredibly low.

“I wouldn’t have brought this to you, sir,” David continued, “but— Well, sir, just look at what she asked for.”

Santa flipped the first page back over and skimmed the letter, homing in on her main request with the speed of centuries of practice. Then he read her request again. And then again—and he still couldn’t believe it. He sat the document on his desk and removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“That’s not all, sir,” said the elf. “Check the notables.”

On the back of the profile page was often listed things the child said or did in relation to their requested gifts; it was just another tool used in the determination of what the child might receive. Hesitantly, Santa flipped the two pages over and looked at the back. What he saw dismayed him greatly. How could any child, much less one that had grown up loved and cared for, come to this? There was a long moment of silence between the pair, then Santa heaved a sigh.

“Are you sure about this?” It was a pointless question that grasped at straws. Santa knew the answer before David spoke.

“Quadruple checked, sir,” the elf said. “No mistake.”

“I see. Get me the brother’s profile.”

David produced another sheet of paper in a way that a casual observer might have thought magical. “Right here, sir,” he said.

Santa took the sheet and looked it over carefully, front and back, his features growing more and more grim as he did so.

“You were right to bring this to me, Bernard—uh, sorry—David. This Christmas, little Becky Nichols is getting the gift she deserves, instead of the one she’s asked for.”



Ryan Nichols trudged home from school, the last school day of the year. It was December 15th and Christmas and the new year loomed on the horizon, so on the one hand, he was excited that he wouldn’t have to even think about classes for three full weeks. On the other hand, however, he wasn’t looking forward to three weeks home alone with his bratty little sister. The baby of the family, Becky had always been a bit spoiled, but in the last few months, she had taken it to all new heights.

Since sometime around the start of the school year, she had become even more entitled. Ryan sometimes wondered if it was her starting middle school that had changed her personality for the worse, or if it was just some side-effect of growing up—she was eleven now, so puberty shouldn’t be all too far away. He shuddered to think of how pompous and self-important she’d become once she started developing sexually—she would certainly grow to be a heart-breaker, though Ryan secretly preferred her looks as she was. Perhaps that was the problem; maybe she’d somehow noticed that his opinion of her appearance was less than brotherly. He certainly hoped not.

Whatever the reason, she’d taken to pawning her chores off on him and somehow managing to get him in trouble if he didn’t do them. She would demand things of him and, since she had both their parents wrapped around her little fingers, he had to comply more often than not. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had recently begun bragging that she had a plan to actually make him her slave. He hadn’t given much thought to her claims at first—merely passing them off as childish nonsense—but she was unrelenting. And so certain. And it was starting to get under his skin.

He opened the front door and nearly tripped over Becky’s backpack. He regained his footing and called to his sister, who was sitting on the couch, watching TV.

“Becky, how many times has mom told you not to leave your backpack by the door?” he said. “I almost fell because of it.”

She didn’t even look away from the screen. “So, put it up,” she demanded.

He walked over so that he could see her clearly. She was sitting with her feet up on the coffee table and her knees spread wide, allowing him to see directly up her skirt. This would have been more interesting for him had she not been wearing thick, woolen tights. She stared, glassy-eyed at the screen with a pink and white candy cane protruding from her pink lips.

“I’m not dealing with your crap,” he said, unsure if he meant her belongings or her recent attitude. “And you’re not supposed to be getting into the Christmas candy without permission.”

She plucked the cane from her mouth. “This isn’t Christmas candy. This is mine. It was a gift,” she replied before returning it to it’s previous location.

“A gift from who?” he asked. “Been taking candy from strangers?”

“From Santa Claus,” came the reply, this time around the candy.

“You took candy from some strange guy in a Santa suit? Wait’ll mom and dad find out,” he replied with a smirk. “They’ll hit the roof.”

“No, dummy,” she said. “Not from some guy. From. Santa. They were in my room with a letter from Santa himself.”

Let her have her wild claims, he thought. He turned and headed for his room. “Whatever,” he said in reply as he left. Under his breath, he added, “Mom and dad find out and you’re in deep shit.”

“I heard that.”

Not under his breath enough.

Damn.



Ryan didn’t move Becky’s backpack. He found out later that evening at dinner that Becky hadn’t moved it either when his mother told him not to let her put her backpack by the door. Typical—his sister breaks the rules and it’s somehow his fault. He made the mistake of mentioning the candy cane that he’d seen her eating after school and was informed that they were indeed hers—she had four of them—and that she was allowed to eat them as long as it wasn’t too close to dinner. Becky stuck her tongue out at him for trying to get her in trouble. The universe just wasn’t fair.

As infuriating as it was that she'd gotten away with something again, the sight of her sticking her tongue out at him stuck in his mind. He wasn’t proud of the fact that his imagination had her running that tongue along his cock, but he didn't go out of his way to think of something else. The image was still in his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

In his dream, that night, he opened the front door after coming home from school and nearly tripped over her backpack. He again found her sitting on the couch, watching TV with her knees up and spread so that he could see up her skirt. In his dream, however, she wore neither the tights, nor anything else that blocked his view of her preteen charms.

“You left your backpack by the door again,” he said as he stared at her bald little pussy.

Her eyes locked on his and she smirked. She dropped her feet to the floor and began nearly crawling toward him like a cat stalking its prey.

“I’ve been a bad girl,” she said. “Want me to make it up to you?”

By that point, she was directly in front of him. Somehow, he was naked from the waist down and she took his erection in her hands. He watched as she ran her tiny pink tongue along the shaft before engulfing him in her hot, moist mouth. One of her hands snaked itself up to caress his balls while the other flipped the back of her skirt up enough that he could see her firm, round ass and then slid back around to play with her wet pussy. The sights and sensation were too much for him and he was soon on the edge of cumming.

“Do you like that, big brother?” she asked him, pulling off, just before his point of no return.

“Yes,” he gasped, desperate for her to finish.

“Want me to keep going?” She stroked him one time with her hand, just enough to keep him on the edge.

“Yes!” he said desperately.

She pouted. “I don’t believe you,” she said.

“I do!” he cried in frustration. “Keep going, please!”

She pressed her lips together and cocked her head to the side as though considering his words. A wet, rhythmic sound continued to come from between her legs as her other hand still teased her own pussy. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

“Nah,” she said. “Still don’t believe you. You’re going to have to be a little more commanding or...” She left the threat hanging.

If it would get his dick sucked, he’d do anything.

“Finish sucking my dick,” he said.

But she didn’t. “Oh, come on,” she said, “you can do better than that!” But, at the same time, the sounds from her pussy gained in speed.

“Suck my cock, slut!” he ordered.

She smiled. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?” she asked, before plunging back down on him. His cock went straight down her throat and he erupted...

...in his underwear as he woke in the middle of the night. He slipped out of bed and changed his shorts, cleaning himself up as much as possible without heading for the bathroom. As he did so, he thought about the dream he’d had. He’d never before thought about dominating someone sexually, especially his sister. But now that Pandora’s box had been opened, he was sure that the concept had taken up permanent residence in his spank bank.



The next morning, things started getting weird. As Ryan was getting dressed for the day, he found in his room, of all things, a pair of Becky’s panties. All sorts of things crossed his mind. Was she going to try to get him in trouble by claiming he’d stolen them? Was it some kind of warning that she knew how he thought of her? It just didn’t make any sense.

After briefly considering hiding them away for possible fuel for his imagination, he snatched them up and stalked off to find his sister. He found her in the living room again, sitting in front of the TV, still in her nightgown.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded, holding the garment up. She didn’t even look away from the TV.

“What?” she asked as though she couldn’t care less. And it appeared she didn’t.

“Why did you put your panties in my room? You little freak.”

She finally looked over and saw the panties. Then she turned her eyes to him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He growled under his breath, dangling the panties out in front of him. “These,” he said. “These were in my room this morning. I didn’t put them there. I’m pretty sure mom and dad didn’t put them there. That leaves you. And since they’re yours, that pretty much narrows it down, doesn’t it?”

However, instead of admitting that she’d done it, she merely adopted an expression that said she thought he was talking nonsense, and then she returned her attention to the TV. Realizing that he wasn’t going to get anything out of her, he simply walked down the hall to her room and tossed the underwear in, where it landed near her bed.

But that wasn’t the end of it; Ryan’s day kept getting weirder and weirder.

A little while later, he found that same pair of panties back in his room, only this time, they were joined by another pair.

He tossed both back into her room again. But, again, it didn’t stop. He never caught her at it, even though he saw her numerous times throughout the day, always sucking on that same pink and white candy cane he’d seen her eating the day before.

Later, the first two pairs joined a third pair and a pair of tights in his room. This time, he just moved them all to sit by his door. Whatever game she was playing, he wanted no part of it. He settled on the idea of telling their parents when they got home from work.

By the time his mom got home, however, there were no less than six pairs of panties, three pairs of tights, five socks (only two of which made a matching pair) and a pair of her shorts all sitting in a small pile by his door. Even stranger was that, when he told his mother about the clothes, she seemed unperturbed, as though she didn’t understand what the problem was. Before Ryan went to bed that night, a laundry basket appeared in his room for the collection of Becky’s things. As though that fixed the problem.

That night, Ryan had a dream that Becky was running around the house completely naked, though he never managed to actually see her; she was always just around the corner or hidden in a chair or behind the couch. Again, Ryan woke in the middle of the night and had to clean up a very personal mess.

The next morning, two more pairs of panties, four pairs of tights, three pairs of shorts, eight socks (including two that matched ones from the previous day) and a pair of pants were scattered about his room. He tossed them all in the laundry basket and wondered how long it would be before his dream from the night before came true.

The strangeness only got worse that day, however. Becky was dressed in a green skirt and white button-up top and a pair of sneakers. He noted that she wore no tights, but when he first found her that morning, she was sitting with her knees together so he couldn’t see if she was wearing panties. He wondered if she had any left to wear. The moment she saw him, however, she blushed, mumbled something and darted out of the room. He was left scratching his head over her odd behavior. It was only later that he realized that her white and pink candy cane, which she was still working on, was now down to the last of the curved part.

Becky seemed to spend the day avoiding Ryan. If he entered a room she was in, she was on her feet and out of the room within 60 seconds. Without fail. At least until dinner, when she had to be in the same room. Even then, she spent the entire meal with her eyes on her plate, seeming as though she hoped no one would notice or talk to her.

By the end of the day, the laundry basket in Ryan’s room had a total of 12 pairs of panties, 8 pairs of thick, woolen tights, 10 pairs of thinner, summery tights, 11 pairs of socks (along with one odd one), 7 pairs of shorts, 9 pairs of pants, 2 nightgowns, and 3 swimsuits. He wondered just how much more clothing could she possibly put in his room. And the question remained: why?



Becky woke on the morning of the 18th and reached for the candy cane that she’d started on the night before. She’d finished the first one—the pink and white one that tasted like mint and some other flavor that she could only describe as “winter”—and simply couldn’t wait to start on the green and gold one. She’d never seen a candy cane in those colors before, but it tasted, if anything, better than the first one. There was a flavor that reminded her of the way pine trees smelled and another that she couldn’t identify but it made her shiver inside in such a good way.

For a while, she simply lay in bed, enjoying her new candy cane and reveling in the feeling of her nice soft sheets against her bare skin. She’d never slept naked before, but both of her nightgowns and all her underwear had gone missing recently—not that it really mattered. Well, it mattered a little the day before when she was wearing a short skirt with no panties; Ryan might have seen her private place. Now, however, the thought of her stupid older brother catching a glimpse of something he shouldn’t sent a little thrill through her, not unlike the sensation of her candy cane.

Eventually, she got out of bed and headed for her bedroom door, only to stop. She was naked. She had nothing to wear for her trip down the hall to the bathroom for her shower. For a minute or two, she worried her bottom lip wondering what she was going to do. Then, deciding there was nothing else to do, she cracked her door and peeked out into the hall. The coast seemed clear, so she slipped past the door and darted down the hall and into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Her heart pounded and her breath heaved in her chest as the surge of adrenaline came from the possibility of being seen. She was surprised that she felt a tiny bit of disappointment that she hadn’t.

After her morning rituals, she wrapped her towel around her naked body and made her way down the hall to her room. Ryan came out of his room just as she reached her door. He paused as he saw her, just long enough for her to notice, and a wonderfully naughty idea popped into her head. She stepped into her room and gave her door a shove, but nowhere near hard enough to close it. Then she walked over to her dresser and pulled out the shortest skirt she had. With her back to the door, and keenly aware that Ryan was watching her, she slipped the skirt up her legs and, in the process, “accidentally” caused her towel to come undone and fall to the floor.

“Whoops!” she exclaimed a little too dramatically, but she didn’t bother to cover herself up other than to pull her skirt the rest of the way on, far slower than was necessary. She couldn’t believe her daring, especially since just the day before, she’d spent the day avoiding Ryan because she was mortified that he’d find out she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She turned toward her closet, putting herself nearly face-on to her door, and, pretending to just notice that Ryan was still standing there—still watching her—she simply said, “Dropped my towel,” while doing nothing to hide her bare chest from his view. Ryan gulped, but didn’t look away. Becky sauntered over to her closet and retrieved a top—a small, thin thing, far too light for winter—and slipped it on and buttoned it up.

Feeling emboldened by what she’d done so far and Ryan’s reaction to it, she crossed to her bed and sat on the edge facing the door. Then she put her shoes on—without any socks as they had all gone missing—while being rather careless about how putting her feet up to tie her shoes blatantly displayed her little cunny to her brother. Then she retrieved her green and gold candy cane and, popping the end of it in her mouth, walked out of her room, passed Ryan with a little giggle, and headed for the living room.

It was several minutes before Ryan gathered his wits enough to move.



Ryan couldn’t believe what had just happened. He’d watched as his little sister dressed with her door open, apparently not caring in the least about displaying parts of her body to him. In fact, it seemed pretty obvious that she was teasing him—something she’d never done before. He thought that he should have been ashamed of watching her like that, but instead, he retreated to his room and masturbated to the most intense orgasm he’d ever had.

The day seemed to crawl by, with Becky constantly finding ways to “slip” and show some part of her body to him. Sometimes it was putting a foot up on the couch and letting her skirt slip down her thigh to reveal glimpses of her bald pussy lips. Sometimes it was playing with the buttons on her shirt until they popped open and flashed him quick looks at pink, puffy nipples. Sometimes it was little more than sucking on her green and gold candy cane in a manner far too suggestive for an eleven year old.

And despite the fact that they spent most of the day in the same room—she always seemed to come find him and tease him a bit throughout the day—even more of her clothing found its way into his room by nightfall. Joining the ever-growing pile in the basket was several of her more modest tops, three of her longest skirts and no less than seven of her most conservative dresses.

That night, Ryan had a dream where Becky wore nothing but a collar around her neck. Attached to the collar was a leash. No one else seemed to notice how she was dressed—or rather her lack of dress—and, whenever he commented to someone about how she was just dragging the leash around and it was going to get caught on something and hurt her, that person would just tell him that he’d better pick it up. When he did finally pick up the leash, he found himself naked right along with her and she jumped up to wrap her legs around him and began grinding her pussy into his hardening cock. Waking up in the middle of the night to change his underwear seemed to be becoming a habit.

The next morning, Ryan watched as, the moment he stepped out of his room, Becky opened her door and stood there for a moment, completely naked. He couldn’t help but stare at her gorgeous, undeveloped body. Her golden hair, tousled from sleep fell to her smooth, bare shoulders; her pale skin highlighted by the even paler areas around her pink nipples and the triangle centered over her hairless cleft, served to underline her apparent innocence and heighten Ryan’s attraction. She stretched, her arms reaching at angles above her head, which just called even more attention—if that were possible—to her nude state, though her eyes peeking at him and the slight upward crook at the edge of her lips indicated that the stretch was not genuine but rather for his benefit. Then he watched in silence as she strolled oh, so slowly, down the hall to the bathroom. She managed to accidentally fail to close that door, but instead started the shower and stepped inside, humming to herself as though she hadn’t a care in the world.

What the hell was going on?!? Ryan couldn’t understand the changes going on in his little sister. She’d gone from being an entitled brat who thought little of her brother to being a naked little seductress with apparently no modesty whatsoever in little more than a weekend! What was causing it? Why did no one else in their family notice it? Why was it seemingly aimed at him? When would it end? How far would it go? The questions flew fast and furious in his mind, with each possible answer more implausible than the last. It was only when he heard the shower shut off, that he realized just how long he’d been standing there.

Becky stepped out of the bathroom wearing a towel. When she saw Ryan was still standing fast in the hall, however, she smirked as she stopped and made a production of opening the towel and revealing her still-damp body to him. She slinked toward him, but turned to enter her room.

This time, she made no pretense of trying to shut the door, but left it open wide. She ditched the towel on her bed and walked to her dresser. She pulled out a very short skirt, but made it only too obvious that she thought it was too long when she rolled the waistband over three times. This caused the skirt to only barely cover her girlhood and left the lower curve of her ass on display. Stepping over to the closet, she pulled out a tank top that Ryan was sure was meant to go under something else, since it covered little more than a bikini top would. She donned the top and left her room, pausing in front of Ryan to flip the back of her too-short skirt up and give him a quick glimpse of her firm little ass. She giggled as she practically skipped off to the living room.

Ryan headed back to his room for some alone time.



When Becky woke the next morning, she eagerly reached for her third candy cane, having finished off her green and gold one the previous night. This new one was more traditionally colored with its red and white stripes. She lay in her warm and cozy bed for a while, without a stitch of clothing on, and savored the new flavor. Despite its normal appearance, it tasted of cinnamon and... something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it reminded her strongly of floating in warm water and being caressed by delicate fingers. She also felt a tingling inside that seemed to intensify when she thought about how she’d been showing off for her brother and the anticipation of how she would tease him today. The thought and the feeling made her giggle madly.

Eventually, she rose from her bed and began her morning routine. She walked naked to the shower and washed herself. She discovered that the pulsing shower head hitting just the right spot gave her the same tingles as her candy cane. She reveled in the sensations for several minutes, and the longer she did, the more intense those tingles became. But at the same time, the feeling that she missed her brother, even though she was fairly certain that he was close by—like in the hall just outside the bathroom—kept her from reveling in it for too long.

After her shower, she dried herself, though not very thoroughly, preferring instead to leave herself quite damp. She felt a little thrill that she’d been right about Ryan and that he was indeed in the hall. She thought that she could actually feel his eyes on her as she passed him on the way to her room. Once in her room, she put on the only skirt left in her dresser. Unhappy with its length, she rolled the waistband over until it was short enough, though this caused her to have to lower the front of the skirt until it only just covered her mound since the skirt was now only about four inches long.

She checked her closet, but found that she had no clean tops left. She couldn’t understand where her clothes had disappeared to, not that it really mattered; she could just go naked if she needed to. It seemed all she had left were her three shortest skirts and two tops. She didn’t even have any shoes left, though the ones she’d lost seemed ugly to her now; she wished she had something with heels. She wondered for a moment if she could figure out how to walk in four inch heels. Or five. Or six. Were there seven inch heels? Or eight? Nine? For some reason the thought made her tingle.

Lost in thought, she retrieved her candy cane and, wearing nothing but her tiny skirt, she headed off to the living room. She wasn’t surprised when Ryan came in a couple minutes later.

She spent quite some time watching TV—or at least pretending to. In reality, she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off of Ryan; he caught her looking at him as much as she caught him looking at her. And somehow, both looking at him and catching him looking at her made her tingle.

Finally, she couldn’t take anymore and headed for her bedroom. Once there, she hopped on her bed and shoved her hand between her legs. She’d felt the urge to rub that special spot since her shower, and after noticing Ryan’s interest, she couldn’t resist anymore. Unfortunately, just as she was beginning to getting into it, she heard Ryan in the hall. It mortified her to think about Ryan seeing her touching herself, so, reluctantly, she pulled her hand away. It never occurred to her to close her door for some privacy; privacy, in fact, never entered into her mind.

The rest of the day passed in much the same way. She would try to ignore the urges she felt until she just couldn’t any more. Then she would retreat to somewhere to be alone and touch her needy little flower, only to be interrupted.

Bedtime didn’t save her either. As she snuggled naked into her soft warm bed, she figured she’d have all the opportunity she’d need to touch herself. And she did. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t enough. She touched and rubbed and stroked as much as she wanted. But somehow, something was missing and any kind of relief or satisfaction eluded her. After quite some time, she gave up and tried to go to sleep. It took longer than she wanted for her body to relax enough to find slumber.

The next morning, she showered and then realized that her five remaining garments all needed to be washed. She walked, naked, to Ryan’s room and knocked on the door.

“Just a second,” he called in a strangled voice. There was some rustling on the other side of the door before it opened. Ryan was a bit red in the face and Becky felt her slit suddenly go very tingly and then damp. He seemed to freeze for a moment at the sight of her before gathering his wits. “What is it?” he asked.

“Do you know how to do the washing machine?” she asked in response.

He blinked. “Yeah,” he said.

“Could you wash my clothes?”

He shook his head as though to clear it. “Huh?”

“All my clothes are dirty,” she said. “I don’t wanna be naked all day.” The truth of the matter was, she had no problem being naked, but feared that, if she stayed that way, he would be able to tell that she was sneaking rubs at her privates.

“What about those?” he asked, pointing to a laundry basked overflowing with clothes. She looked at the pile, wondering what he meant. She saw some things that looked just like the clothes she’d lost. Strange that none of them were hers.

“Please, Ryan? I wanna wear my clothes.”

“Those are yours,” he said.

She looked again. She couldn’t see anything that didn’t look like something she’d owned. But none of them belonged to her.

“Those aren’t mine,” she said.

“Yes they are,” he answered. “They started showing up in here last weekend. They’re all yours.”

She wrinkled her nose. “If you don’t want to wash my clothes, just say so,” she said. “But I’m not gonna wear any of that.” She said the last word as though the very idea disgusted her. She folded her arms across her bare chest.

Ryan’s eyes traveled down and up her body.

“Why don’t you just stay like that?”

She looked mutinous. After a long pause, she huffed.

“Fine,” she said, “if you don’t want to help me out, I’ll just get mom to do it when she gets home.” She turned on her heel to head back to her room, but she’d only made it a few steps when he called to her.

“All right.” She turned back to him with a questioning look. “I’ll show you how to use the washer.” That was good enough for her. She smiled and sprinted to her room to gather her meager clothes.

He did indeed show her how to load the washer and put detergent in. She showed her how to set the dial to the right setting and how to select the water temperature. Then they went to the living room to pass the time.

“Doesn’t it bother you to be naked?” Ryan asked after seeming to work up the courage for some time.

Becky jumped a bit as he started speaking. She’d been lost in the tingly sensations she got from being naked in front of her brother. At the moment, all she wanted to do was shove her hand between her legs and rub herself hard and fast. The thought of doing so, however, both thrilled and terrified her. She could feel her girlhood tingle and twitch and soak itself to the point that she expected him to think she’d peed. But she couldn’t let him know how she felt; she just couldn’t.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Does it bother you?”

“I’m not sure, but, yeah, I think it would bother me to be naked,” he said, “at least a little.”

“No,” she said. “I mean, does it bother you that I’m naked?”

His eyes darted around as though he couldn’t look at her directly and he shifted a bit on the couch, tugging at his pants a few inches below the waistband. It was with a shock and a new surge of wetness and tingles that she realized that he was adjusting himself, probably because he had a hard-on.

“Um,” he said, nearly squeaking, “no.” He blushed and she was pretty sure he was lying.

Her desire to rub herself increased dramatically. Finally, she could resist no longer and slipped her hand down and skimmed her fingers over her cleft. She tried to be covert about it, but was certain he saw when he nearly leaped to his feet and, slightly hunched over at the waist, darted out of the room. Once he was gone, she lay back and really went to town on her pussy, working it over with desperation. It didn’t help, however, as, no matter how vigorously or softly or intently she stroked, her release danced out of reach.

Once her clothes were dry, she dressed in a skirt (rolled up so that it was just long enough to cover her slit) and her button-up top (buttoned only at the very bottom). But still, she couldn’t keep her hands away from her sex, rubbing and stroking and teasing and squeezing pretty much non-stop for the rest of the day. At one point, she discovered that her pussy juices coating her red and white candy cane made the flavors that much more intense and she a finished the sugary confection off by the end of the day.

Ryan spent much of the day sequestered in his room, only coming out for brief visits. He looked more and more disheveled throughout the day and she was positive that he was jacking off whenever he left. That thought ramped up her arousal every time he disappeared. Her parents, however, just treated her like nothing was out of the ordinary, even when she ate dinner with one hand between her legs causing an audible squelching sound to drift up from her crotch. She’d never seen Ryan eat so quickly; he bolted from the table as soon as he was excused.



His sister was trying to drive him insane. That was the only possible explanation. She’d spent most of the day masturbating in front of him, making only the barest possible attempt at trying to hide it. So he’d spent much of the day hidden in his room stroking himself to climax after climax. He’d never been so relieved when it was finally late enough that he could reasonably go to bed.

The next morning, he left his room to find Becky standing in her room naked, sucking on a blue and silver candy cane and looking confused. In each hand, she held a skirt, and she looked back and forth between them repeatedly. When she noticed him, she called out to him and held the pair of skirts up for him.

“Ryan,” she said, “which skirt do you think I should wear?”

He was a bit taken aback by the question. A skirt was a skirt; how should he know which one she should wear?

“I don’t know,” he said. “Just pick one.”

She looked back and forth a few more times.

“But I can’t decide!” she said, nearly whining.

He jabbed a finger and one of them and said, “That one.” She broke out in a grin and carelessly tossed the one he hadn’t pointed to back in the drawer. She pulled the chosen garment on and then looked at him.

“Should I roll up the waistband?” she asked.

Ryan’s throat went suddenly dry. He found himself nodding. She rolled it over once.

“Enough?” she asked? He didn’t respond, so she rolled it again. “There?” Again, he didn’t respond and she rolled it once more. She went on like that, rolling it once and asking for his approval until he finally gathered his wits enough to nod in response to her question when she had her skirt just as short as she’d been wearing them. Then she went to her closet and put on her only clean top.

From there, the day only got stranger. Becky, it seemed, wouldn’t stop asking Ryan what he wanted to do. And she would do whatever it was that he wanted. Watch TV? She was fine with that. Play video games? That was OK, too. And when it came to lunch time, she practically begged him to let her make his lunch. But it was after lunch that she blew his mind.

She’d been getting more and more fidgety all day. Finally, about two o’clock, she couldn’t seem to take whatever it way any more.

“Ryan,” she said, turning to him, “can I... um...” She bit her bottom lip and looked incredibly nervous.

“What?” he asked. She hesitated for a moment and then shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I can’t.” But her apparent discomfort only increased. Finally, Ryan just had to know.

“What is it?” he said. “Just ask me whatever it is.”

“Can I play with myself?” she blurted out instantly. Then she clapped her hands over her mouth. Ryan goggled at her, but found himself nodding.

“Yes,” he croaked.

Both her hands shot from her mouth to her crotch and began rubbing furiously. Her eyes went a bit glassy even though they remained fixed on him.

Suddenly, he was hard as a rock, and wanted nothing more than to jack himself off, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from the sight before him.

Faster and harder and more intently, she stroked, as though desperate for release. She began whimpering and whining and moaning, but her climax seemed out of her reach. The look on her face was one of desperation and longing. He grasped his rigid cock through his pants and squeezed, nearly causing himself to cum in his underwear. Her eyes followed his hand and she moaned at the sight.

Her hands were a blur as they danced over her sopping sex, but her face remained the very image of frustration. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but as he watched his little sister furiously masturbating, he squeezed his cock again and said, “Cum for me, Becky,” just as he erupted.

And she did. She lurched and clamped her thighs together around her hands and nearly doubled over as air was forced from her lungs in a “Whoooouuuuuunnggghhh!”

Ryan sat there as his cum soaked into his shorts and watched as her orgasm lingered longer than he’d ever thought possible. Eventually, she relaxed and, though still occasionally twitching, fell back on the couch with her legs flopped open wide and her wet, red and swollen sex obscenely on display. He suddenly felt the urge to dive between those legs and taste her girlcum. As his muscles tensed in preparation of doing just that, he came to his senses. He jumped to his feet and sprinted for the privacy of his room. What had come over him? What had come over her? What the hell was going on? Just how far would it go? How far could it go? Would she agree to doing sexual things with him? Should he ask her?

Images danced in front of his eyes of her sucking him, him licking her, them fingering each other, the pair of them having sex... Sadly, his increasingly explicit dreams lent him plenty of graphic sexual fodder for his imagination.

He started to think that it was only a matter of time until his willpower failed him.



His resistance crumbled a little more when he was awakened the next morning by a weight pressing down on him. He opened his eyes to find Becky straddling his waist, laying on his chest and sucking on her blue and silver candy cane. She was naked, and he’d never been so thankful for bed covers before.

“Morning,” she said. He’d expected her breath to smell of mint, but instead, he smelled nothing.

“Morning,” he returned. “What do you want?”

“I woke up,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Should I take a shower?”

He blinked at the question. Why was she asking? “Of course,” he said. “You shower every morning.”

She broke out in a grin. “OK!” she said happily. She bounded off of him and out of the room.

Seriously, what the hell was going on?

As he heard her shut the shower off sometime later, he got himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom, only to find her at the bathroom door. She seemed relieved to see him coming.

“I only have one clean skirt,” she said. “Should I wear it or just go naked?” He stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Wear whatever you want.”

“But... I...” she said stutteringly. “What should I do?”

Why did she need to know what he wanted all of a sudden? Why couldn’t she just make a decision?

“I—” he began. Then he thought better of it. “Just go put on your skirt.”

She grinned hugely and walked past him. At her door, she stopped and turned back.

“Should I roll it up?”

Still a bit dumbfounded, he managed, “Sure.”

“OK,” she said brightly and disappeared though her door.

She was waiting for him in the living room after he showered and dressed for the day. She indeed wore her only clean skirt, and had rolled it up so much, it may as well have been a belt, leaving her immature sex on display. He barely noticed that the TV was off. She perked up immediately upon seeing him.

“What should we do?” she asked. “Wanna watch TV? Play video games?”

He shrugged and flopped into a chair.

“Want me to masturbate for you again?”

He nearly choked on his own spit.

“What?!?” he said incredulously. “You wanna...?” He trailed off, unable to actually repeat what his own little sister had just said. She seemed to understand him well enough though.

“Sure, I could,” she said. “Or there’s lots of other sex stuff we could do, if you’d rather do something else.”

“Other... sex...” he fumbled. He cleared his throat. “Like what?” he asked.

“Like anything,” she said. “I could jack you off, give you a blow job, you could play with my pussy. We could—”

“Blow job?” he asked stupidly. She nodded eagerly.

“You want me to?”

Memories of vivid dreams flooded back into his mind; images of her young lips wrapped around his hard cock as she drove his manhood into the back of her throat, thought of her eyes looking up at him as she sucked on his prick... and something within him clicked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Suck my dick, sis.”

She nearly dove at him, scrambling for his belt and the button of his pants. It seemed that she had him stripped from the waist down almost before his mind could process the fact that it was actually happening.

She seized his cock and licked around the head with her dainty tongue. The sensation was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Forget the fact that she was his sister; why had they never done anything like this before?

Soon, she’d taken him in her mouth and was plunging down and up on him as he struggled to hold off his climax. As her head bobbed on him, she stared into his eyes as though seeking approval. He let out a strangled cry as the sensations overwhelmed him and he emptied himself into her mouth. His climax came all too soon, but was the most intense thing he’d ever experienced.

His wits came back to him to find his sister no longer had her mouth on his cock, but instead she was sitting on her heels with her mouth closed and watching him. When she saw he was coherent again, she pointed at her throat with a questioning look. It took him a moment to understand her meaning: should she swallow it?

He nodded and she gulped. Then she smacked her lips as though it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. He watched as she lay back and slipped her hand between her legs.

“Can I?” she asked simply. He nodded dumbly and she began to lightly stroke herself. He sat mesmerized for a moment, until his head cleared and he realized just what had happened. He stood, pulled his pants up and fled for his room.

What had he done? He’d gotten a blow job from his own kid sister! This was big. It was huge! It was huger than huge! It was stupid! It could never happen again. No one could ever know!

But what if she told? Would she tell? Would his parents kick him out of the house? Or worse: would he go to jail? Sure, he was fifteen and underage himself, but she was only eleven for chrissake!

He’d fucked up big time. Self control was what he needed.

And if it came to it, he’d own up to what he’d done and accept the responsibility.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent in his room thinking about what had happened and the possible consequences when he heard a moan coming from somewhere in the house. His first thought was that Becky had hurt herself. Concerned as he was, he still wasn’t too keen on facing her at the moment.

He opened his door and stuck his head out.

“Becky,” he called, “you OK?”

All that answered was another piteous, whimpering moan. She definitely sounded hurt. All thoughts of crime and punishment left his mind immediately as he jogged down the hall to the living room. The sight that greeted him locked his brain up for a long moment.

Becky was on the floor, her legs spread wide, her hands rubbing furiously on her overly wet slit as her hips thrust rhythmically at the air. It was the most wanton display of desperate masturbation that he’d ever seen—not that he’d seen many.

“Oh! Ryan!” she said breathlessly but urgently. “Please, Ryan! Please!”

He shook his head to clear it.

“What?” he asked.

“Please, Ryan! I need to cum!” she cried. He paused in confusion even as she continued finger banging herself manically.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked.

“Let me cum!” she pleaded.

“Let you cum?” he asked, confused. “Of course you can cum.”

She took a huge gulp of air and her hips lurched forward as her climax instantly crashed over her. He watched in wide-eyed fascination as she came wildly and powerfully. And long; it had to have lasted more than a full minute. And he couldn’t help but come to the realization that she couldn’t or wouldn’t cum until he said she could.

She ended up still on the floor with her legs wide and her fingertips tracing lazy designs on her juice-slicked pussy.

And he had never wanted so badly to climb on top of her and shove his cock into her.



He managed to avoid her for a while, but she’d cornered him again on his way back to his bedroom from the bathroom. She’d sucked him again and this time, he’d given in and fingered her. He tried to tell himself it was just to see if she would cum without his permission—she didn’t—but afterward, the shame returned full force and he’d hidden himself away in his room until lunch time when he heard a knock on his door and the voice of his sister asking if she could make him some lunch.

They’d ended up eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at the kitchen bar. Somehow she’d begun jacking him off as she sat next to him. He honestly wasn’t sure how it had started, or even how she’d gotten his fly open and his cock out, but eventually, their sandwiches lay forgotten as she stroked him expertly. As his climax neared, he realized that as he was, it would be difficult to keep from making a huge mess, likely on his pants and the seat and probably the underside of the bar.

He pushed the chair back and, without her missing a stroke, he slid out of the chair with her doing likewise. He was then confronted with the full-on sight of his little sister, nearly naked and stroking his cock with a look of mingled concentration and expectation. He also noticed that she was lightly fingering herself at the same time.

He felt a tightening in his balls and a contraction of muscles as he hit the point of no return.

“I’m cumming!” he warned. Whatever he expected her to do, she didn’t do it. Instead, she kept stroking and aimed his cock at her face. He exploded, sending ropes of his sticky cum splashing on her forehead and her nose and cheek. Then, before he stopped, she lowered her aim and blasted three good shots on her bare chest. The rest dribbled on her still-pumping hand. His knees went weak and he sank back against the chair as his cum-coated sister beamed up at him.

“Hey you two,” said their mother.

Ryan nearly leapt out of his skin and he could have sworn that his heart stopped. He’d been caught. It was all over now.

He scrambled to get his now wilted cock back into his pants. As he did so, he said the first thing that popped into his head.

“Mom! What are you doing home so early?” He looked from his mother to his sister, who still had his cum dripping down her face and chest.

“It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. They sent us home early today,” she answered. Had Ryan not been in panic mode, he would have realized that her tone of voice was conversational, completely in contrast to the scene she’d just walked in on. It was what she said next however, that caused his thought processes to come to a complete, screeching halt. “You know, I don’t mind if you play with your sister, just be careful that you don’t make a mess.” She then gave Becky a kiss on the head and disappeared of to her bedroom to change out of her work clothes. Becky hopped back up into her chair and continued on eating her sandwich as though nothing had happened—though now she was occasionally dipping said sandwich in the cum trailing down her skin. Ryan, however, no longer had an appetite, and so he retreated to his room.

Had the whole world gone insane? Or was it just him?

Ryan spent the rest of the day testing boundaries. By the time night had rolled around and he was headed for bed, he’d come to the conclusion that he could do pretty much anything he wanted to with Becky in front of their parents and nothing would be said. Although he hadn’t tried it, he was pretty sure he could have shoved his cock into her and fucked her silly right in front of the TV and they wouldn’t have said a word. Well, they might be annoyed with him for blocking the TV.

As he sat on the edge of his bed in his boxers and a tee-shirt, his normal sleeping attire, he contemplated what it meant that he could do anything with his sister and that she would be willing—even eager—and that their parents would be OK with it. How far should he let it go? Should he put a stop to it all? They’d done so much already. Surely they could keep doing what they’d already done. Or should he let it go a little farther? Part of him—a very insistent part—wanted him to walk down the hall and climb into her bed and fuck her all night long. But his conscience was sure that would be a bad idea.

Cold turkey. That’s what he needed to do. Put a stop to it cold turkey. After all, with the way Becky had been acting, doing anything with her at all was a slippery slope. A very slippery slope.

And he wasn’t sure he was still at the top of that slope anymore.



He’d had the standard naked-in-school dream before. The one where he was called on to answer a question only to find that he’d forgotten to get dressed that morning and all of his classmates burst out laughing at him. But he’d never had dreams that he was naked in school as he fucked his sister in front of the class while everyone merely looked on with interest. That was the dream that had him taking off his shorts in the middle of the night that night, however. He also took off his shirt as that had gotten cum on it too. He reached for a new pair of boxers, only to find that there were no clean ones. Between cumming in them every night as well as during the day more than once, he’d simply run himself out before laundry day. It was for this reason that he crawled back into bed naked in the wee hours of the 24th.

He woke in the morning to find Becky straddling him again, only this time, he had a morning hard-on and she was grinding her crotch into him. It felt so good that he didn’t really want her to stop. He pulled his arms out from under the covers and ran them up and down her back from shoulder blades to ass. He looked into her eyes as she dry humped him through his blankets and—though he didn’t know why he did it—he pulled her head down and kissed her. And not a brotherly kiss either; it was a full on, open-mouth, dueling tongue, toe-curling french kiss that lasted until they both had to come up for air. As their kiss broke, he looked into her eyes and at that moment, he knew what she wanted. He also knew that she would never ask for it.

And he knew he was now at the bottom of that slippery slope.

He rolled her to the side enough that he could pull the covers down. She slid beneath them as though she’d done it a thousand times before. Soon, her cold body was pressed up against his warm one. Neither of them said anything as he rolled her over so that he was on top of her. As he held himself up, she reached down and grasped his hardness, aiming it at her center. He found her already wet and ready. He pressed and, though there was a fair amount of resistance, he slipped inside her easily enough. Pressing forward, he bumped up against her hymen, but looking into her eyes, he saw neither fear nor discomfort. Letting his weight drive him forward, he felt the bit of skin break, but instead of pain, she reacted as though it was the most wonderful feeling she’d ever felt.

He began stroking in and out of her, going deeper with every thrust until his full five and a half inches was buried inside her. He stopped for a moment and they held each other and he took the time to adjust his position. Then he started fucking her in earnest.

It was the most incredible thing he’d ever experienced. She was so tight and slick and, although he admittedly had nothing really to compare it to, it seemed as though she fit him perfectly. She lay beneath him, mewling in pleasure and working her hips up at him, enthusiastically fucking him back. He leaned down and kissed her again, another searing kiss that made the back of his neck tingle and his dick seem to swell even larger. He found her chest, with two ever-so-slight swellings under her tiny pink nipples, and caressed it with his hands, teasing those to bright pink spots with his thumbs.

She moaned and whimpered beneath him as he drove on, fucking his cock in and out of her and the walls of her cunt throbbed and pulsed around him. It seemed to him that they’d just really gotten started when she looked up at him and asked him if she could cum. Now, instead of being confused by her question, he reveled in the apparent power he had over her.

“Not just yet, pet,” he said. She shivered, whether in response to what he’d called her or his denial of her release, he didn’t know. Instead of cumming, she whimpered in disappointment and seemed to work her hips even harder at him as though attempting to reach her climax despite lack of permission.

He backed off a bit and moved her leg so that he could roll them over. They settled in a new position with him on bottom and her straddling him, just as they’d been when she’d awoken him, though, without the blankets in the way. She began alternately bouncing on his cock and driving all the way down to grind her pelvic bone into his, mashing her clit in a desperate attempt to find her release. It eluded her, however, and this only served to drive her even wilder. Finally, he decided she’d had enough.

“Cum for me.”

Instantly, he felt her inner walls clamp down on him as she slammed herself down and ground their hips together and she cried out wordlessly.

Soon enough, she was moving again, grinding and bouncing. Though now, it seemed that she wanted to drive him to his climax. He held himself back, however as he grasped her hips and controlled just how fast and hard she could move.

He pulled her down on top of him and they kissed once again. As they kissed, he decided he wanted to test something, so as their embrace broke, he whispered in her ear, “Cum, pet.”

Amazingly, she did just that. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and her cunt muscles once again massaged his rock hard member. His head swam with power.

He told her to cum three more times before he finally unloaded in her needy hole. Afterward, they just lay together for several minutes, basking in their respective first times. Eventually, they got up and shared a shower. He dressed, but she had no clean clothes, so he had her remain naked.

The pair spent the rest of the day with their parents, enjoying the holiday and just being with family. They watched Christmas specials on TV and listened to Christmas music, and Becky polished off the rest of her blue and silver candy cane. And, though Ryan and Becky refrained from any real sexual contact, he did delight in occasionally telling her to cum and watching her do so without any stimulation.

That night, as the two of them headed off to bed, Ryan made a decision. He stopped his sister before she entered her room and motioned for her to join him in his. The two of them fucked more than once before they both drifted off to sleep in each others arms, with him still deep inside her.

When Ryan had sexual dreams that night, it wasn’t his shorts he shot his cum into.



Christmas morning dawned bright and crisp, even with the heater on. At some point in the night, he had separated from his sister, though she was spooned up behind him. For a time, he simply lay there in her embrace and enjoyed what they’d become. Perhaps he was abusing her. Perhaps he was taking advantage. But as their parents didn’t seem to care and as she really seemed to want it, for the time being, he was content to ride it out to whatever end was in store.

As he was lost in thought, he noticed something on his nightstand that hadn’t been there before. There was a small red and green candy cane sitting on top of a sealed envelope. He reached out and took the envelope to find that it was addressed to him. He opened it and pulled out a letter. His eyes grew wider and wider as he read it.

Ryan,

I’m sure you’ve noticed a change in the behavior of your sister over the last week and a half. The reason for it is both simple and complicated. Suffice it to say that she had written to me to ask for a rather unorthodox Christmas gift. She wanted you to be her slave. However, since she was most certainly on the Naughty List, and it was obvious that you neither knew of nor desired her control, I could obviously not grant her request. She simply did not deserve what she’d asked for. In fact, based on her behavior, I felt she deserved the opposite.

To that end, I sent her four very special candy canes. The first one caused her to reject modest clothing. The second erased her modesty. The third caused her to be constantly aroused. The fourth made her subservient, but not to just anyone. She’s subservient to you and you alone.

As you may have noticed, this letter was accompanied by a fifth candy cane. This one I leave up to you. Currently, all the changes to her personality are temporary. Left alone, they will all wear off over the next couple of weeks. Should you decide to do so, however, you may give her the fifth candy cane. Should she finish eating it before midnight as Christmas comes to a close, her new personality will be permanent and she will be your slave from now on.

I cannot stress this enough: it is your choice and yours alone. You cannot ask her as she is unable make a decision without you. I know you’ll do the right thing.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

All the best,

Santa Claus

So that was it. As crazy as it sounded, it was the only logical explanation. He picked up the final candy cane and looked at it. It was an innocent looking, and very Christmasy, red and green. It appeared harmless, but it somehow had the power to enslave his sister to him forever.

He thought about the life she’d had before the candy canes and the life she had at the moment. He looked over at her still sleeping figure. She looked so young and innocent, yet she would fuck his brains out at the slightest hint that he was aroused and he could make her cum with a word.

His decision made, he took her shoulder and shook her gently awake.

“Wake up, pet,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she replied.

“I have something for you.”

She smiled as she accepted the candy cane.
*Image courtesy of Danaume Rook*
If you are under the legal age to view mature content, if you are offended by it, or if it is illegal in your location, then leave this site immediately. None of these stories may be viewed by or distributed to a minor by any means. None of the situations in these stories should be attempted in real life. The stories on this site are works of fiction and are for entertainment purposes only; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, excluding parodies and works involving public figures. All fan fiction stories are parodies of the original content and are not authorized, sponsored by, or affiliated with owners of the original works. No fan fiction story implies anything about any person or entity affiliated with the subject of the fan fiction. No story involving a public figure implies anything about the public figure in real life. No story may be copied, reposted, sold, or otherwise distributed without the express permission of its writer.

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