Babette Johnny And Me
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A Bet To Lose, Chapter 1 free porn video
Zoe did not like her life very much.
Heather, her mother, had given birth to her and her little brother
Richard just ten months apart, the perfect age for him to be just
immature enough to be annoying and just old enough not to be easily
dealt with. Their father had to make a choice between his family and
heroin when she was just three years old, and he had come down firmly
on the side of heroin. And she'd just recently learned, less than half
a year ago, that she couldn't really rely on her mother anymore,
either.
But her mother wasn't there that day, and her brother was, and they
were arguing over the list of chores she had left behind.
"I know what you're going to do," she told him after he suggested a
division of labor. "You're going to go over the house doing a lazy-ass
job for fifteen minutes, you're going to dust by wiping a cloth real
quick over some things, then you're going to mow the lawn by running
back and forth for another fifteen minutes, and then you're going to
play Starcraft while I'm doing all the laundry, and drying the dishes
properly, and scrubbing the toilet. Which will take me a lot longer
than it will take you." Things weren't always quite like this between
them, but last Christmas, and his thirteenth birthday two months ago,
had soured her on both him and her crazy, stupid mother. Fortunately,
her mother had told her that Zoe was free on her own upcoming birthday,
and she also hadn't taken her children to the wedding that she had
flown out to, saving money by flying out Monday afternoon and coming
back Thursday morning.
"I'm not lazy like that, and you're playing that game, too!" he argued.
She'd taken it up last month, half to see what he liked about it so
much, and half to be somewhere that she wasn't being treated like the
girl her mother wanted to treat her as.
"I've seen you sluff chores so many times. There's this this thing
called diligence, I have it and you don't. I'm actually practicing that
game. Are you even diligent enough to do that?"
The expression on his face changed a bit, and he leaned his head back
in a haughty expression. "Have you even looked at the professional
Starcraft players? They're all men, literally all of them. Girls can't
play this." Her face screwed up in shock. She thought what he said on
Christmas was bad, but this... "This just isn't a game for females,
Zoe. You can't beat me, I've beat the computer on Harder! There's no
way you'd win!"
Zoe blinked. She'd been using the computer, rather than human
opponents, to practice. He'd actually offered to help but he did not
want him looking over her shoulder, not after those two "celebrations".
And now he'd just admitted, although he clearly didn't know it, that
she was better than he was, despite him having had it for years and her
just starting last month. She'd been watching videos in between
practicing 1v1s against Very Hard and had defeated Elite. "You really
are a waste. Get upstairs, right now, and sit your ass at your computer
and wait for me to beat it."
"Wanna make a bet?" he offered right away.
"Fine. Loser does all these chores, all of them, the right way."
"While wearing a dress!" he yelled at her.
"Fine, you little shit! While wearing a dress!" She was upset, she was
deeply upset, and she realized that it had to be intentional, him
trying to throw her off her game while thinking he had the chance to
humiliate her further. If this little shit thought he was going to make
her wear a dress, let alone the same junior prom dress she'd worn on
his birthday, or that Christmas abomination...
Seething with rage, she followed him upstairs, and played him 1v1 in
Starcraft 2, her Terran and him Zerg. He kept sending individual
Overlords to scout, kept sending in small units to probe, but he didn't
expand properly, and then the overconfident little bastard had sent his
whole army straight into the teeth of her defenses and got destroyed.
She'd rolled over him just like the tanks she sent. "Get in here!" she
shouted, and waited at her open door for him.
"Before we start, before we even start, I'm going to remind you of last
Christmas, just to make sure you know why I'm about to do this stuff to
you," she said as he approached. "Mom was telling me that I needed
'more practice in being feminine', and I was telling her that I didn't
want to wear that God damn dress because it's awful. But then you said,
AND I QUOTE, 'You're lucky you're a girl, because you get to enjoy
being pretty,' just rubbing it right the in. And then she AGREED with
that, she agreed with that, and she threw me out there and said I was
grounded from everything if I wasn't the perfect hostess in a jingle
dress. And you know who else was at that party, those cousins, those
college cousins who stared at me like they wanted to rape me AND I'M
THIRTEEN YEARS OLD. And I swear to God, one of them stuck his tongue
out at me, like he wanted to lick my candy cane legs. I told Mom that I
was done, I was just done, and I even tried to tell her about the
cousin who did that, and you know what she said? She said I wasn't
going to get any presents if I kept acting that way. What kind of
threat was that? She never gets me anything good, she never even gives
YOU anything good. So I came up in here and closed the door."
Richard stayed quiet, his lips pursed and eyes closed.
"But then she comes into my room, and says, 'why didn't you just listen
to your brother, Zoe, why couldn't you just enjoy it because you're a
girl, why do you keep making a big deal out of nothing', with me in
that jingling dress from hell after my literal cousins AND YOU had been
staring at me like a piece of meat?" He looked at her like he wanted to
dispute that, but she kept going. "And then she tells me that I'M the
one who ruined Christmas?" He was going to say something, but she
overrode him. "Do you have any idea how hurtful it is, when someone is
doing something to you that you hate, that you should just learn to
accept and enjoy it, that it's not that bad so you shouldn't take it so
hard and should just go along with it? Do you have any idea at all how
awful it is to be told that? It's like if..." She didn't finish her
sentence, and she realized that she was practically screaming at him
and forced herself to calm down.
"I didn't mean..." he started.
"I don't care what you meant," she snapped. "You stared at me on
Christmas and you stared at me on your birthday when you weren't
playing with your stupid toys. You want to staring someone wearing a
dress so much? Here you go, here's your chance. The whole thing, just
like I wore it." She furiously dragged a cardboard box out of the back
of her closet. "Enjoy your Christmas in May, you sexist shit." Her
brother started hyperventilating, just a bit. She grabbed the hateful
candy cane-striped tights out of the box and thrust them at him. "Take
off your clothes, and I mean all of them, just like I had to, put these
on in your room, and then get your sad ass right back here."
"Can I start with that part too?" he asked quietly, pointing to the
vest/petticoat, a white concoction from hell that looked like a little
girl's dress all by itself. "Just so you don't see my dick?"
"Fine. You got it," she said, shoving it at him as well, and he
retreated to his room to put them on.
She wondered if he was actually going to wear it. She half-expected him
to come back, smirking, and go 'Did you seriously think I was going
to?' She couldn't actually make him do it, and, at some level, he had
to know that. Her mother would flip her wig if she saw this, and Zoe
had seen enough cop videos to know that even if she were twice his
size, she certainly couldn't have physically forced him to wear it.
Besides, there really wasn't anything stopping him from ripping up what
she'd given him or cutting or tearing the dress apart later when she
wasn't looking. (She wouldn't have really minded that much if he did.
She hated the thing, after all.) The only reason she had worn it was
because Heather had threatened to take everything away from her if she
didn't, and she burned with anger and humiliation at the thought and
wished that she had torn it apart anyway, right in front of her
mother's face.
But Richard did no such thing. Instead, he knocked on his sister's
door, even more softly than last time, and when she told him to come
in, he stood there, looking very demure and very nervous, with his
candy-cane legs and his white petticoats. Maybe he'd felt sorry for her
- she knew he hadn't known about that thing with that one cousin - or
maybe he thought she'd go easy on him if he quietly complied. She
didn't know and didn't care. She had the chance for revenge and was not
going to waste it.
"What are you worried about?" she asked spitefully. "I mean, you might
not be a girl - yet - but you should feel lucky you get to look pretty
wearing this stuff! So let's get you in it, just like I was." She
pulled out the dress itself, and took a second to marvel at how stupid,
how insultingly ridiculous, it really was, and he submissively put up
his hands so she could lower it onto him. The bulk of the dress was
similar to a Christmas tree, with little bells taking the place of
ornaments, but since they couldn't ring freely against the fabric, an
entire line of bells had been sewn along the hem, so the wearer- HIM,
now, would jingle everywhere HE went. She buttoned up the front, the
buttons made of Santa heads, and the long sleeves matched the tights
with their candy-cane stripes. She smirked as the somewhat stretchy
velvet fit him almost perfectly, although not quite the same way as it
had her. A pair of red mittens with white fur cuffs was threaded with a
string through the sleeves, and she made sure that the string stayed in
front of his chest just like it had hers. "Hands in mittens, and I
don't care what you're doing, you keep them in there, just like I had
to," she told him, knowing that he had only been a small part of the
problem. She wanted to find a way to do something much worse to her
mother. "Here's your Santa hat, don't let it fall off your head!" It
was just like a regular Santa hat, only with a bell in place of the top
pom, and she secured it firmly around his head. "And your boots, we
really can't forget your boots, little sissy!" The boots were also red
with white fur, with little bells hanging from the tops and three-inch
heels with a small platform, and he passively tugged them on one at a
time. She couldn't remember if she ever told her mother what she
thought of the whole ensemble: that it made the wearer look like an
eight-year-old whore.
She wasn't done with him, though, and moved her swivel chair to the
vanity she got on that very unmerry Christmas. She'd never used the
thing, and she grinned sardonically at the fact that he would be the
first. He stumbled slightly in his boots as he sat down on the chair.
She applied generous amounts of foundation and dark red lipstick -
she'd never used it, she was surprised it hadn't totally dried out -
and decided not to continue with more because she didn't want him to
look gross. She wanted him to look cute. She pulled out her phone from
her pocket - a thing his dress didn't have - and snapped a picture once
she was done.
"Are you gonna blackmail me?" he asked in surprise, a lilt in his
voice.
"Blackmail is when you threaten to send it. I am not threatening to
send anything." She pushed a few buttons on her phone, uploading it to
her private, four-person Discord chat. "There. Now The Squad knows."
Zoe and her three closest friends had named themselves that, after the
political counterpart, shortly after she had met them a few months ago.
"If Mom ever sees that, we're both in deep shit," he said nervously.
"She won't," Zoe said curtly. "We keep our secrets. No, that's just for
us, to forever memorialize my little shithead brother as a pathetic
sissyboy wearing the world's most girly Christmas dress in May." He
pursed his lips and looked downwards, not wanting her to see his
expression. He shifted on his seat a bit. "But you know who it's really
for? It's for you, because this IS you. As much as you don't deserve
them, you'll be back in your boy clothes after Mom gets home, but no
matter what happens later, you will always be the little jingle boy who
let his sister dress him up like a candy cane tree, for the rest of
your life." She reveled in the pure catharsis, the sheer vindication of
taking all the humiliation of the last two parties, that totally wasted
Christmas and his shitty, friendless birthday party - those cousins
were the only males there other than him - and throwing all of it
straight onto him instead. There weren't any surviving pictures of her
in that damn dress - a very fortunate glitch had deleted the entire
album they were saved in, on all devices - but there would always be at
least one picture of him. "Well, go on, Jingle Boy! The house isn't
going to vacuum itself! Make sure you don't trip over your heels!"
Taking uncertain steps in his fur-lined girly boots, he quietly,
obediently, minced out of the room, bells tinkling, under Zoe's mocking
glare. "Don't worry, there will be someone here playing your game, you
don't need to anymore!" she called out as he jingled down one stairstep
at a time.
She briefly felt that maybe she was being a bit too harsh, but that
monstrosity was what had been done to her and what he'd clearly wanted
to continue doing to her. If this wasn't the very definition of karmic
justice, what was?
She put on her headphones and played two games, the hum of the vacuum
cleaner a pleasant background buzz. The first game, she'd lost, but she
wasn't familiar with the limited map and blamed it on that. The second
game, she won, not entirely decisively, but enough to feel like she'd
proved herself. She heard a light knock on the door just as she was
mopping up, and with the biggest, smuggest expression on her face, she
opened it.
There stood her little brother, holding the vacuum cleaner with his
velvet mittens like the perfect little sissy housewife, pursing his
painted lips. "Can I come in?" he asked in a timid, soft voice.
"Ask politely to do what you came here for, and I'll let you in."
"May I please clean your room, Zoe?" he quietly asked, looking at the
ground and demurely holding the vacuum cleaner to himself.
"You certainly may. Don't even think about opening anything, and be
careful with the cords."
She considered continuing to play while he worked, just to rub it in
some more, but it was much more fun to sit in her swivelchair and watch
him instead, her in T-shirt and jeans, headphones around her neck, and
him in his stupid Christmas outfit. He actually did vacuum her room
diligently, using the edging attachment for corners and even using the
dusting attachment for other surfaces, slowly and delicately doing
everything with the velvet mittens inhibiting his grip and making sure
that his dress didn't brush against anything, his petticoats resting
against his candy-cane legs as he got on his knees to reach under her
bed, the bell on his Santa hat touching the frame. It was exhilarating
to watch, and she took a couple more pictures of him doing his chores
like the little maid he was. The only thing she regretted was that she
couldn't hear the jingling of his bells over the noise of the vacuum
cleaner.
Eventually, he finished, and started to jingle away. "Well?" Zoe asked
abruptly, and Richard turned to her in confusion. "You asked politely
to clean my room. What do you say now that you're done?"
"Thank you for letting me clean your room, Zoe," he meekly said,
looking at the floor again.
"You're very welcome, Jingle Boy. Once you're done with the rest of the
house, you can go do the laundry." She gestured to her full hamper, and
he picked it up and walked out with it and the vacuum cleaner, taking
short steps in his heels.
Feeling like the queen of everything, Zoe turned back to play another
practice game before she went out into the big leagues, and got utterly
crushed in both tactics and unit production. The other player was just
that much better, she couldn't figure out what she had done wrong.
Wasn't Very Hard supposed to be the equivalent of a really good human
opponent, wasn't that what that meant? Who the hell were these people?
She remembered that he had his own username and looked him up in the
rankings, just to compare; if she was having this much trouble against
initial human opponents, surely he was even worse. (It crossed her mind
that this would have been a much smarter thing to do before she had
challenged him.) She couldn't believe her eyes and thought she was
misreading: he was in the Diamond league. Diamond, while she was having
trouble winning in the practice maps. "What the hell!" she half-
whispered, not understanding. All he said was that he could beat the
computer on Harder! Had the little shit just gotten someone else to
rank him up or what? That made even less sense.
She noticed that the vacuum cleaner had been turned off, and wondered
if he'd finished with that particular task. She thought about how
obedient and quiet he had been while she had dressed him, even while he
had partially dressed himself, even while he had cleaned her room. Then
she got to thinking about what, exactly, he had said on Christmas and
what he had been staring at, during both Christmas and his birthday.
And then she remembered whose idea this bet had been in the first
place.
"Oh no, Br'er Fox, please, whatever you do, don't you ever throw me in
that there briar patch," she said aloud, pissed at him and absolutely
furious with herself for not realizing a whole lot of things, about
Starcraft, about his behavior both previous and recent, about why he'd
put on the petticoat so she wouldn't see the outline of his dick. He
probably still had a throbbing erection. Closing the game in fury and
tossing her headphones onto the desk, she got up from the computer and
stomped downstairs, hearing a slight tinkle of bells from the laundry
room. She threw open the door hard enough for it to bang against the
springy rubber stop, and he jumped in surprise, bells tinkling again,
and turned from his clothes sorting to face her, a sheepish look on his
face. He knew she knew, and she knew he knew she knew, and he knew she
knew he knew she knew.
"You lost on purpose," she accused him anyway. If she could have spat
venom, she would have done it right then.
"I threw the game, yeah," he replied, in an ordinary voice totally
bereft of all the timidity he'd shown - roleplayed - over the past
hour. He'd felt lucky that his plan had worked at all and was hoping
that she wouldn't figure it out so soon. The boots, while super cute,
were a size too small and were pinching his feet, but he loved the
sound his little bells made, loved the slippery-soft feel of his
velvety mittens, loved the soft feeling of his dress and petticoats on
his skin, loved how cute he was as he looked down at his pretty
Christmas tree dress and childishly striped candy cane arms and legs,
smiled every time he saw his made-up reflection anywhere, and enjoyed
the thrill of doing chores while dressed like this in front of a girl,
even if she was his sister. He'd even enjoyed the sensation of being
dominated and mocked. He figured that she was certainly going to strip
him of all of it now that she knew. At least it was nice while it
lasted.
"You little pervert. You got your sister to fulfill your fantasy. I
hope you're proud of yourself."
"You wanted to do it, too!" he replied. "You were enjoying doing it! If
you didn't want to, why'd you take the bet?!"
"Yeah, because I thought you didn't want to be-" She stopped abruptly,
not liking how it made her sound. 'I only wanted to put you in a
humiliating dress because you didn't want to be in one' was something a
Grade A bitch would say. Still, though... "I didn't know you were
getting off on this! Your sex fantasy is of something that made me
hurt, you know that, right?"
"I know YOU hate wearing it! That's why I deleted all the pictures Mom
took on Christmas, because I knew you didn't want to see yourself like
that again." He'd felt enormously guilty at the time, both for saying
what he said and for secretly wanting to wear something that had
actually, seriously, humiliated his big sister.
"Bullshit, she said she got an email from support," Zoe said, unsure.
That had been an awfully convenient glitch...
"I deleted the whole album off the cloud, then her phone and computer,
and then sent her a bogus support email with fake headers. I even had
to fish it out of the spam folder myself and mark it unread. You'd know
it was fake, but of course Mom believed it." Their mother, as she would
be the first to admit, was generally incompetent with technology and
had previously needed her children to avoid getting suckered; they'd
even talked her out of sending money to a Nigerian prince a couple
years ago. She had zero concept of computer security and wasn't good at
keeping track of her phone. "I bet she still has it in her inbox
somewhere." He looked at his sister, his heels putting his eye level
somewhat above hers. "Think about it, a glitch deleting just one album
from both her cloud and local storage on her phone and computer?"
"You would've been in so much trouble if she found out." Because their
mother had some idea of just how susceptible she was to falsehoods,
that was the kind of thing that would get him grounded, no computer, no
TV, no games, no anything, for months. "You could have told me."
"You were really upset," he replied. "I didn't know what you'd do, I
thought you might have told her because you were still pissed off at me
for saying you were lucky, and then later I figured it'd just be safer,
I guess, if you never knew." He took a deep breath, the velvet moving
as he did. She knew his big, dirty secret and could already get him in
deep trouble, so there wasn't much point in keeping more from her.
"Also, after my birthday party, she wasn't the one taking the pictures
so I couldn't delete those, but I told her that I'd saw some research
saying that two-thirds of all lesbians.. um..." He tried to remember
exactly what he'd made up. "'were excessively feminized by their
mothers, including forced wearing of dresses and other female
paraphernalia.'" Zoe's eyes widened somewhat. "You know she'll believe
anything with big words in it. She probably thought that meant that
there was a two-thirds chance you'd turn into a lesbian if she kept
doing that to you. That's probably why she left us at home instead of
dragging us to that stupid wedding, because you'd have to wear a dress
if you went." Like most of the rest of their family, their mother was
someone that some people would call 'traditionalist' and others would
call 'homophobic'. Being convinced that her own actions were actually
leading her daughter to become less feminine instead of more had
changed her approach immediately.
"And why she's going to let me do whatever on my birthday. Ricky, I
don't know whether I want to slap or kiss you, well definitely not kiss
you, you're still a pervert, but... okay, I know your secret, now
you're going to know mine, and you never tell anyone this." He nodded.
"I'm bi. Bisexual. So when you told her that, you might have made her
start looking for signs of it, and do you know what the hell she'll do
if she ever finds out?" He fumbled for an answer. "You don't know.
Neither do I. If you actually do care about me, you'll keep that secret
and I mean secret. Also, why did you say all that shit about girls
earlier?"
"All of that was just bait so you'd take the bet," he replied, holding
his mittens up innocently. "I didn't mean a word, I swear."
She nodded. It really was unlike him to say things like that,
especially given what he'd really meant on Christmas. "I sure did throw
you right into that briar patch, Br'er Rabbit." Her expression softened
a bit. He really was a tricky little bastard, but he'd only been
tricking to help her avoid what she didn't want and get what he did. It
was her mother who'd been hurting her out of some misguided ideals, and
he'd put an end to that, at risk to himself and without even expecting
any thanks. If, instead, he'd held real malice in his heart towards
her, he would have stomped her in the game, although, she had to admit
to herself, she probably would have welshed on the bet. She felt deep
love towards her little brother, despite the fact that he was a
colossal pervert; after all, a lot of people would call her sexuality
perverted as well. She was actually relieved that she'd been playing to
his fetish the whole time, as that was better than having actually hurt
him. She felt a bit of swiftly dissipating guilt. She'd intended to
punish him for hurting her and had actually rewarded him for helping
her. No harm, no foul. "Hey, if my friends came over here and saw you
like this in person, would you be okay with that? And I'm sorry about
sending pictures without asking, that was a bitchy thing to do."
"It's okay, I was trying to piss you off," he reminded her. "And yeah,
sure, as long as they don't do anything too weird."
"They won't," she assured him with a smile. "It's funny, because last
week, we were talking about boys in dresses, and Susie said some kid's
babysitter put him in some weird bondage dress thing and his twin
sister almost blew the babysitter's head off."
He rolled his eyes. "Bullshit, video or it didn't happen."
"I said the same thing! Susie swears it's real, though." That was a
reminder to check her phone, and the chat was lively, with all three of
her friends gushing over how cute he was, and he smiled a bit as she
let him read it. 'He lost on purpose', she texted to them, and the chat
grew much livelier; she invited them over to watch a movie, and the
chat grew livelier still. Then, abruptly, she threw her arm around her
little brother and took a selfie with him, both of them smiling widely
for the camera. Caroline abruptly stopped chatting; she was the only
member of the Squad with a driver's license, and she'd just jumped into
her car to pick the other two up as fast as she legally could. Zoe then
noticed the piles of laundry Richard had made, and something was off.
'Gtg, see you when you get here,' she texted, and put her phone back
into her pocket. "You're separating the laundry wrong."
"How, it's whites and colors, right?"
"Oh my God, I'm glad I came down here." He knew how to vacuum, but he
did not know how to wash. "This house, it's regular whites, regular
colors, delicates, and permanent press, and I'll show you what gets
what." She went through and explained fabric labels, materials, and
dyes, and he patiently listened in his sweet dress, trying not to
jingle too much when she talked.
"Four loads, that's going to take a while," he noted at the end.
"Yeah, well, normally you're supposed to be doing other stuff at the
same time," she pointed out. "But, huh. You did the dusting with the
vacuuming, and I bet you don't want to get your dress or mittens dirty
by doing the dishes or the toilet, do you?" He shook his head. "I bet
you'd love mowing the lawn like that, wouldn't you?" He blushed deeply
and looked away. "You really are a pervert." She smiled at him, shaking
her head a bit. "We have days to do all that stuff anyway, and my
friends will be here in like twenty minutes. Staying on those boots
that long is bad anyway."
"Yeah, I think they're too small."
"Then we definitely have to get those off you. I know you love them,
but that's really not good for you. And... I still kinda don't like how
you did it, but thanks for getting Mom off my back, little bro."
He curtsied, placing one heeled foot in front of the other and pinching
the sides of his dress with his mittens, making all the delicate little
bells tinkle. "Thanks for dressing me up, big sis."
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