Taylor Ryan McIntosh and Sherrilyn Marie Foresythe
in
Auntcest, Vol. 3
Chapter 1
Izzy’s ‘Problem’
by the kzx
“tay… tay, wake up, please…” It was Izzy, her soft half-whispered voice being one of the most recognizable things to me, maybe next to Mum’s voice. My eyes opened. We were still on the plane. The low cabin lights were on and it was black outside. Izzy’s face was illuminated by the phone she held before me, and though I was starting to see that it wasn’t actually very bright, I still couldn’t see what was on the screen. On Izzy’s face, however, was a pained look of concern.
“what?” I half-whispered.
“tay, here, talk ta becky. i gotta go.” Izzy said, shoving the phone into my paw and leaving down the aisle in a hurry.
“what’s her problem?” I asked aloud.
“What aren’t you getting?” The voice, another familiar one. I squinted—it really was Becky!
“huh?” came out of my mouth.
“Tay, you’re 12; get smart about girls already! Izzy’s on her period. THAT is her ‘problem.’” I looked over at David. He was fast asleep. good. What was it he was saying about girls’ periods? Becky said something else. What was the volume set to? I clicked the side buttons, not forgetting, ha-HA, where they were on the phone, despite Mum having taken them.
I had the same kind of phone as Izzy; they were twins themselves, manufacture numbers being right next to each other. Mum was proud of her being able to get them for us like that. She had our phones during vacations like these, collecting them as we landed there, giving them back just after take-off home. Our attention was on family, yes, but it kinda sucked not being able to talk to friends back home, regardless of time differences, which, really, was only 3 hours (and a different day.)
I had no idea what time it was on the plane (like it was even relevant.) Squinting again at the screen, the time just read ‘ROAM.’ That was such an Izzy thing, not keeping track of plane time properly, unlike me, setting the time to our destination, though seeing, for example, 7:30 AM when it would be, like, pitch black outside would sometimes confuse me and start a panic. Becky spoke again, some kind of nagging noise.
Volume control, ahh… not actually that loud…
Then I though about how lucky Becky hadn’t just announced Izzy’s ‘problem’ to the whole plane. Besides, people were sleeping. Of course Izzy wasn’t blasting a video call. “Tay, you listening?” Becky said. I heard her that time. Becky didn’t need to whisper on her end.
“huh?” I said, er, my… my inner ‘cave dingo’ said, like an instinct, “sorry, i was sleepin’…”
“I can tell… say, I wanted to make sure you—”
“feh! why didn’t izzy take you to the bathroom with her?”
“Because she was afraid of getting caught with a phone on during flight. Besides, I told her I had things to say to you about girls!” I scrunched up my face.
“girls, meh… i like women!” My fur flared a bit. yeah, women… Becky’s face practically spelled out P I S S E D.
“This isn’t about what you like! I’m talking about females in general!” The outburst was a bit loud. David moved some.
click click
Muted.
fuck.
Up a bit more, Becky was still mad. was that smoke?
“—and that you refuse to learn anything about girls, it’s frustrating!” she finished. David snorted. I recalled my mission: to get Becky.
“becky, becky, listen…” Her eyes, annoyed, stayed on me, “i was gonna ask you, uh…” compliment her, express adoration! “…when I get back, you wanna… what… what if i called you ‘pretty head?’” Becky gave me a look that reminded me of Mum—being disappointed.
“…is Izzy back yet?” was she done talking to me?
“hold up, i… i like y-you…” I felt my balls suck up into my body—what a crazy feckin’ thing to say! Becky laughed, covering her mouth. I heard movement.
“sorry about that…” Izzy said, slinking back into her seat, reaching for the phone. I let up, allowing her to have it. Izzy plugged in her ear buds, you know, like the ones I, too had with me on that trip. I felt my paw automatically want to slap against my forehead.
“was that her?” David’s sleepy whisper sounded on my other side; did he hear any of that?
“yeah… that was becky…” I said calmly.
“no offense, dude, but—” I starting feeling insanely defensive of Becky, “—do you actually fuck that girl? she’s a coon.”
“she ain’t ugly!” I said through gritted teeth, fists balling up.
“no, no, she’s uh, pretty… she just looks… kinda boring…” David curled up away from me, drifting back to sleep by the sound of his breathing.
Ass hat.
Becky wasn’t boring; she had tits She had tits before my sister did, before Jules, before any of the girls I knew, except Miranda who had them since probably 2nd or 3rd grade because she was chubby, I dunno. I didn’t pay much attention to her, nice as she was. But none of them were boring Some were crazy, annoying, sometimes stupid, but never boring.
This line of thought made me all warm, fuzzy. I had changed, my appreciation for females was awake. They were all beautiful, not boring. They all had pussies. They all had tits. Even Izzy and Mum had these things. Emiline had them, well, she was starting to grow a chest, at least. All my female family members. All my female classmates. My teachers. These flight attendants. Those flight attendants. Even Ilsa with her continued strangeness was starting to bud some. They all had nipples and those, uh… pussy flaps inside that went up to the nub that… they all had a ‘feel-good’ nub. Needless to say, I had a massive boner, one that apparently wanted to fuck every single female in the world. Squirming in my seat, and feeling extremely lucky it was dark, I dug out my own phone. A few messages.
Cotter asking when I’d be back, but sent just after we got to Sydney as a late response to our last conversation.
A few links to funny videos from Jules, Izzy (just sent) and Cotter.
A weird survey (I think) from Ilsa about my opinions on, uh… ‘heuristic analysis of star charts mapped across multiple dimensions’ the fuck?
A new one popped up from Becky. I looked over at Izzy. She was no longer talking on the phone, maybe browsing something. I opened the message.
Becky: you still up?
My breath stopped and my cock throbbed against my pants.
Tay: yeah
Becky: you said you liked me?
More attempts to breath/not put a hole through my pants.
be confident, get what you want.
Tay: yup
Becky: okay then
Becky: so, heh, what do we do about that?
I had to choose my words carefully.
Tay: let’s get together and bang
Indeed, I hit ‘send’ just as I noticed my mistake but before I could finish typing my retread, Becky responded.
Becky: ???
Tay: hang, let’s hang
Becky: tay, let’s just wait to have this conversation face to face, okay?
Tay: the b is just under the h
Tay: ok
Becky: safe trip back, cya
Tay: cya
I stared at what messages were still on the screen, scrolling up to my mistake, wincing, but feeling a little excited. I did get my intentions out, huh? I imagined Becky doing that smile, but trying not to smile thing she did a lot with me, maybe a blush included. I looked up further; the little implied laugh, ‘heh,’ gave me a weird sense of hope. Maybe I could get Becky, have sex, film it, prove it to David. Prove I wasn’t a virgin.
I shut off my phone’s screen and laid my head back. Becky wasn’t the only thing flooding my mind. All girls I’d ever liked smiled back at me. I knew the next time I would paw off, it would be with all of them—maybe even more—in my head. I knew what it felt like now, what it was like to have sex and do other things with a woman. My thoughts raced, but all had met at the same sexy, brown-haired, blue-eyed finish line: Sherry.",
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