Taming- The Brat, page 1
1
I stared at the white pill placed in the palm of my hand.
This was, by far, the most unorthodox test I have ever taken part in. Being a lab rat wasn’t exactly in my bucket list, but it had been paying my bills alright. Some collateral effects made me demur and think about dropping the whole thing, but once the money made it into my bank account and I managed to pay for my student loans without asking for my father’s help… It made everything worth it.
Even more now that my dad married off again. I could see why he had wanted to marry Tessa - she was freaking hot. He just had to focus on her small waist and big tits when she behaved like the bitch she usually was.
I considered myself lucky she still hadn’t made dad kick me out. So I played the good-boy card, stayed out of the way, swallowed drugs to pay my bills and hoped no one would notice me. Fuck side effects.
Since I’ve always had excellent health, docs usually gave me medicines that were supposed to improve me. To improve my skin, or my hair, or a bunch of different ones to lose weight… I wasn’t needing it that much, but at the same time, none of them worked. I wrote down my weight, constant and unchangeable throughout different treatments, and reactions: from headaches to insomnia to hair loss.
Exciting as fuck, ey?
But this time, it was different.
This time I was actually interested in the effects of the pill. I was supposed to take one every day for the next month, right after breakfast. Effects would come up twenty minutes later and I had to write down anything out of the ordinary.
“Confidence booster” read the tag around the bottle. Not a marketable name yet, but laconic enough for me to be anxious about it.
I noticed the waitress walking my way and quickly popped the pill into my mouth, swallowing it with a gulp of hot coffee. Too hot, in fact.
Coughing, I covered my mouth to look up when she stopped by my table, coffee pot in hand. “More coffee, sir?”
I’d been coming to this cafeteria for the past six months. A couple of blocks down my house, so I didn’t need to “waste my father’s food”, as my step-mother liked to put it. It had also been six months I’d been thinking about asking this Sarah girl out. Her warm-red hair spilled over her nice breasts, the apron tied tightly around her small waist. She was so fucking pretty. Those pouty red lips would’ve looked incredible around my cock.
I tried to think of something. Some witty remark that would make her laugh. Tried to say something along the lines of “I like coffee as I like my women”, hot and… red-haired?
One could see why I was eager about this medicine.
She twisted a side of her lip as I took too long to answer. I cleared my throat, “No, thanks.”
Fuck. She turned around and left, uninterested and bored, back around the counter and to her cell phone.
I sighed, watching her lips stretch in a smile that wasn’t directed to me. Perhaps reading some sexting from a muscular, team-captain kind of guy. Who was nothing like me and probably had at least an ounce of confidence.
Walking out of the cafeteria five minutes later, I strolled back home to wait for any side effects near a bathroom. One ended up learning such things in that field of work if one could call it that way. Doc had said if these pills went wrong, nothing would happen. They didn’t expect me to throw up my whole lunch or my face to swell again. But better safe than sorry.
These pills couldn’t be the real deal, could they? I mean, “confidence booster”? What was that supposed to mean? Wasn’t confidence too subjective for drugs to improve it?
Doc had made me some questions - things like how did I deal with girls, what I thought about myself, how did I react when things didn’t go my way. I may have talked a bit too much when he asked about girlfriends. I mean, I had only had one, back in high school, and then I never quite managed to get myself out there during college.
It wasn’t something I enjoyed about myself.
What would these pills do anyway? I laughed, imagining myself sexting with the hot girl in the cafeteria. It would be impressive if the drugs gave me balls enough to ask for her number. But I didn’t want to wait around to see what would happen. I was pretty sure nothing would change. Climbing the steps to our apartment floor, I unlocked the door and walked to my bedroom as silent as I could.
* * *
I created a note on my phone for the two-hour check-in: Nothing has changed.
As expected, and a little hoped for. I wasn’t feeling any different, any better. I wasn’t running down the block to ask the cafeteria girl out. I didn’t tell my step-mother she was a fucking bitch when she came into my room without knocking to complain about something I knew her daughter had done. But no, she thought that brat was an angel. She had just made eighteen and probably had already fucked more than me and my friends in our whole lives, summed up. She wasn’t even subtle about it. All it took her was for our parents to disclose they’d be taking a weekend off somewhere and I could already count on her yelling “yes, fuck me like that” from down the corridor for the whole of Saturday night.
I was focused on reading some articles for college when a knock came upon the door.
“Son?” My dad opened the door the slightest and peeked inside.
I turned on the chair, resting an arm over it. “Hey, dad. Good morning.”
“Morning.” He smiled, opening the door wider. “Studying hard as always.”
I smiled, waving to the piles of papers in front of me. “Yeah, just working on a paper I’ll have to deliver by the end of the year.”
He smiled back, “You’re quite dedicated.”
Silence stretched for a moment and I could hear Tessa yelling at someone. Probably on the phone. She never did so with her dear daughter.
“Did you need something?” I prompted, raising my brows. I loved my father, of course. And I loved my silence as the door kept Tessa’s voice out.
He cleared his throat, “Yeah, actually. Something came up in Tessa’s family.” Now her yelling made sense. Someone must have pissed her off for good. “We’ll drive up there to solve it.”
“Oh. Is it serious?” Not that I cared.
“No, just the usual problems with her sisters spending her mother’s money and all.”
“I see,” I didn’t even remember that. I just tried my best to lay low while living with them.
“We’ll take some three hours driving there, so I believe we’ll only be back tomorrow evening. I count on you to take care of Rebecca.”
I held back the urge to roll my eyes. My step-sister was overage and certainly knew how to take care of herself. “Sure, dad. Leave it to me.”
“Thanks, son. See you tomorrow.”
He shut the door quietly and I turned back to my paper, releasing a sigh. That’d be a loud night alright.
2
Four-hour check-in: Nothing’s changed.
I walked past the living room to the kitchen, where I intended to get some lunch done before I brought it back to my room. Rebecca had the TV on but she didn’t pay attention. Half-lying on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table, she smirked at her phone screen. She didn’t seem to notice my presence as I entered the kitchen and opened the fridge.
I took out some eggs and ham to make an omelet. I was about half-way done through its cooking when she showed up, balancing her shoulder against the door-frame.
Her tiny shorts rode up her thighs to expose toned legs, and her black tank top, hugging her curves, had one of the straps dropping down one of her smooth shoulders. Her blond hair was up in the usual messy bun she sported at home, but her eyes had a spark of hunger I had never seen.
“What’s that smell?” She asked, her voice raspy.
“I’m making an omelet.” I considered not offering her for a moment, but the hunger in her face weirded me out. “Would you like one?”
She cocked her head, taking a step closer and stopping by the fridge. She crossed her legs in front of her, then her arms, lifting her breasts. “I don’t know. It doesn’t smell like an omelet.”
Her eyes were on me for a moment, then back to the frying pan. Through her tank top, I watched her nipples hardening with the corner of my eye.
“Aren’t you cold?” I prompted, clearing my throat.
“No, not really.”
She stood there for a long, awkward moment. I helped myself and turned to leave the kitchen. She immediately turned and left too, sitting back on the couch and propping her feet up on the coffee table.
“Just, uh…” I started, unsure if I should say it or not. “Don’t put your feet up there. You know your mother hates it.”
Expecting her to shrug it off, laugh with spite and keep her feet at exactly the same place, it got me by surprise to see her dropping her feet down.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry.”
I halted.
What?
I stared at her as she crossed her legs and fidgeted for a moment before taking her phone back. I had never heard her even saying the word “sorry”. I honestly thought she hadn’t been taught it.
Was she sick? She had to be sick.
I turned to my room but didn’t go there. I spun around to face Rebecca again, crossing and uncrossing her legs.
“Are you… alright?” I tried.
She straightened her spine, snapping her head to me as if she had forgotten I was standing there. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. The smell just put me off a little.”
I walked to the dinner table, sniffing the omelet and setting my plate there. “Do you think it
She shook her head. “No, it’s not a bad smell. It’s… really, really good.” Her voice dropped lower.
I cocked my head. Her behavior made zero sense. “I offered you some, you said you didn’t want it.”
“I know, but it’s… I don’t think it’s the omelet. I’m smelling something that’s not the omelet.”
Taking a step closer to her, I watched her filling her lungs, her chest rising with the action. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
She bobbed her head, the bun on the top of her head unfurling, her blond strands raining down her shoulders. She didn’t move to tie the hair back up. She still watched me with hunger, as if she had been starving. I looked away, not understanding the way she had been watching me as if she was about to eat me.
My eyes fell on an abandoned empty glass near her right ankle.
“Don’t forget to take that glass to the kitchen,” I stopped before I completed her mother hated it. Her eyes widened.
“What?” She breathed as if she had been distracted.
“The glass.” I pointed to it. “Remember to take it to the kitchen.”
“Oh,” she murmured, fetching the glass and standing up with a jolt. She strode to the kitchen.
I could swear my eyeballs would drop anytime now. That was unexpected. She absolutely never did that. The fact that I told her to do something usually threw her in a tantrum.
What kind of sorcery was that? The brat turned obedient out of nowhere, actually doing the things I told her to without yelling her head off. I watched her washing the glass, something I truly had never seen her doing. She would usually tell her mother I had forgotten the glass there, even if I never watched TV, or that I didn’t do the dishes, even when I spent the whole day out. And her mother always accepted it. My father would just ask me to be understandable. Yeah, right, easy to say when he wasn’t the one being yelled at after having to clean other people’s messes.
Rebecca left the glass to dry and turned back to me. She intertwined her fingers in front of her in a perfectly innocent pose.
“There. Sorry about that. Do you need anything else?” She said in a mellifluous voice. Sweet and thick as honey. She batted her eyelashes at me.
At me.
That’s when it hit me.
The drugs.
It had to be it. They were indeed not working for their original purpose - I wasn’t feeling any bolder. But somehow they came to affect Rebecca.
My heart accelerated, possibilities whirling in my mind. She obeyed my commands - but to what point? How far would it go before she snapped out of it? For how long?
“Um… Would you mind bringing me a glass of water?”
She cocked her head as if I had spoken another language. “What?”
Of course. Every time I asked nicely, she’d somehow not understand it. I couldn’t ask her to do something.
I had to command her.
“Bring me a glass of water.”
She jolted as if I had yelled at her and turned, fetching a new glass and filling it with water. She brought it to me and paused it beside my plate.
But I wasn’t hungry anymore. Curiosity burned inside me.
“You know what…” I started, turning to the living room. “I think I’ll sit with you for a while.”
“Oh,” she sighed, following me and sitting on the couch too. The two of us stared at the TV without really seeing it for a moment. I noticed her gaze drifting off to me again and again. She inched closer after a moment, breathing in deeply.
It had to have something to do with the smell. She kept taking these deep breaths and she did mention something about an odor.
Pheromones?
No. There was no such thing between human beings. I mean, make women horny just by how you smelled? That was the best side effect a drug had ever given me.
She laid back against the couch, her hands still intertwined in front of her. She slid them between her thighs and pressed them together. Her brows furrowed just the tiniest.
I turned to watch her. Her nipples were two pebbles forcing against her tank top. She pressed her lips together, crossing her legs and pressing her joined hands against her crotch.
Was I really turning my step-sister on? Just with my smell?
She didn’t seem to mind the long glance I threw her way. Her perfect tits pressed against the cleavage, her tanned thighs squeezed together. She had always been a selfish brat. But one had to be blind to think she wasn’t hot.
It was virtually impossible not to notice her full breasts as she walked around the house bra-less, or her tight butt as she hopped around in those tiny shorts. No, not when she liked cock that much, bringing a different guy in every other week and moaning out loud.
My dick swelled, filling my pants quickly.
Not only for curiosity but out of lust and a little bit of revenge the idea popped into my head.
“Rebecca?”
“Yes,” her voice was shaky as she eyed me with unmistakable desire. Such a desire that made my face flare up. I felt the warmth just to think about what I was thinking. The risk. What if she snapped out of that daze and hit me? If she told her mother, I’d sure be doomed.
I’d be kicked out of the house before I could say “hot brat”.
The other strap of her top slid down her shoulder, her whole cleavage now exposed. She didn’t mind it. In fact, she adjusted her position so the pink areola of one of her nipples peeked out.
I salivated with the sight.
“Kneel in front of me,” escaped my mouth in a hoarse voice before I could stop it.
She slid down the couch to the floor, walking on her knees to stand right between my legs. The TV became white noise. Everything around me disappeared as the realization hit me.
It worked.
Her eyes, big and pleading, stared into my crotch, the bulge of my hard cock clearly her sole focus. She licked her lips.
“Show me your tits.”
My voice was raspy with lust, but she obeyed, pulling first one arm out of the top then the other. Her beauties stood at attention, nipples hard as diamonds, little dots at the top of her breasts. My breath hitched with the concentration I amassed not to cover them with my hands. Those surely were the best pair of tits I’ve ever put my eyes on.
She still stared at my cock, so I cleared my throat. “Suck my cock, Rebecca.”
She sighed, as if she had been waiting for that her whole life, and latched her hands on the hems of my pants. Undoing the button, then unzipping me, she pulled my pants down as she panted, her breasts wiggling with her movements.
My cock sprang out when she pulled my boxers down. She gasped, her eyes sparkling with joy as she looked at it, hard and veiny in all its glory.
Her warm fingers encircled the base and she brought her face closer, opening her mouth wide to take me in.
I groaned, almost having forgotten the feeling. The warmth. She slid her lips to the base, saliva coating my member as she pulled slowly back up. She moaned in pleasure, in satisfaction, her eyes fluttering closed. She slurped as she reached the head of my cock, then dropped back down again, pressing until the tip of her nose touched my crotch.
The head of my cock bottomed up inside her narrow throat, the vibrations of her moans sending a jolt of pleasure rushing through my veins.
Her blond head bobbed up and down my lap. I groaned, unable to believe how good it felt. Her pouty lips sealed tight around the base of my cock, her tongue darted up and down my shaft. She’d pull back up until the head popped out from between her lips, then she’d stick her tongue out and circle it around the head.
Fucking Rebecca knew what she was doing. Bringing a hand between my legs, she played with my balls as her lips closed like a glove around me. I groaned, my head dropping back as the first signs of an orgasm reached me. The tingle in my balls told me I’d be cumming on her soon enough.
That’d be the time I’d warn my partner, so she could finish it off with her hand.
But I opened my eyes to stare at Rebecca, naughty Rebecca, bouncing up and down. When she moved up, I could get a delicious glimpse of her perfect tits bouncing along.
I paused a hand on the top of her head so she wouldn’t stop.
“Rebecca,” I called, holding her head back down with just enough strength to stop her in case she lifted her head. But of course, she didn’t. She still devoured me as if she had been starving for my cock. “I’m gonna cum on your mouth.”
