The first thing Maple did when she woke up from the longest night of her life was check the damage in her bathroom mirror. As she shambled over, a yawn cut short by a sharp pain in her temple, she mentally prepared herself to see just about everything. Smeared makeup, lipstick marks, hickeys, maybe even a degrading word or two in sharpie. She did like bodywriting oh so much.

What she was not prepared to see was no reflection at all.

Dumbfounded, she turned the lights on and off. No, that wasn’t it. She watched in a dazed, hungover confusion as the light switch visibly moved according to her motions in the mirror. But her body did not appear. Mirror must be broken, she decided with a resigned shrug, then stumbled back to bed. Maybe she needed another ten-

“WAIT, WHAT?!”

She bolted back into the bathroom and stared, wide eyed, at a completely empty bathroom reflected in the vanity mirror and realized, with a slow, growing horror, that something was definitely wrong. She pinched herself, looked down at her body, did a little jump, all things to prove that she wasn’t in a dream. But she was not. This was real…it was just unreal as well.

It was then she felt the welt on her neck. Feeling around for it, she’d first assumed it was a hickey. Then a bite mark, she was into that kind of thing when she got going. But as her shaking hand found the marks, she didn’t find the round indentations of a set of teeth. No. Two equally sized puncture wounds, adjacent to her carotid. 

“Oh fuck…I think I might have slept with a vampire…”

*** 

The previous night was a haze in her mind. As she struggled to get dressed amidst the panic in her heart, she ran what events she could recall in her mind. 

She’s met an absolutely gorgeous woman, she remembered that. Tall in a way that drew attention, but with striking cheekbones and a neckline that would have done that regardless. Her eyes, it must had been the club but her eyes looked like they’d glowed on the dance floor. She smiled readily, but it never touched the corners of her eyes. Like this woman was playing a role. Like those around her were beneath her, and she was lowering herself just to be in their presence.

In retrospect, there may have been some signs that her date hadn’t been normal.

What they did after they left the club was hazy, but she definitely remembered making out. And she definitely, definitely remembered sucking her off. With a blush, Maple realized she hadn’t caught her name. She’d drained a woman’s balls who she knew less about than some of the people she played frisbee golf with.

There was no evidence she’d ever been there. Must have left super early. As she rummaged around for the clothes she wore and her purse, thinking there might be some info in a note or a memo on her phone, she found a strange rectangular object. To her confusion, it was a letter. Like, a paper letter, the kind her grandmother used to send. Addressed to her, even. It had been covered by her sheets when she’d climbed out of bed.

Tearing the envelope open, she found not a greeting card with $20, but a handwritten message in printer paper. It was then that Maple realized the envelope had been hers too; one of the pack of 20 she’d bought and left by her printer in the one (1) time she’d needed to send a form in by post. The curving script was gorgeous, though she had to read slowly. Been a while since she’d had to parse cursive.

Dearest Maple,

To answer the question likely dancing at the tip of your (delicious~) tongue right now, yes I am one of the Living Dead. One of those crudely sketched in your popular fictions as ‘Vampire’. And yes, I did drink your blood during our amorous encounter last night. But, rest assured, I did not transform you into one of my kind. Not quite.

You see, a peculiar thing happened while I was drinking your blood. An interaction happened that I was not aware of. Now, as you may or may not remember, we began our amorous encounter with your delightful offer of oral relief, something I was only too glad to take you up on. Somewhere along the way, however, a portion of my seed must have stayed in your mouth while I was draining your blood. An auspicious occasion! Moments into my feeding, your blood changed. Your body changed, in fact, into an entirely different creature altogether!

You are a Feaster, my dear. Not quite a Vampire…but no longer human, either.

Maple laughed. What the fuck was she even reading? Vampires weren’t real. She put the letter down…her laughter getting more and more desperate as the ache on her neck made the proposition difficult to fully dismiss. She returned to reading, if only to get to the punchline of this sick joke.

I apologize for this oversight. A Feaster hasn’t been born in generations, and I genuinely forgot it was a possibility should the right body and situation arise. Magical semen in the mouth, coupled with my saliva and fangs, creating a hybridizing effect. I don’t quite understand this, but Feasters were once the origin of the Medieval (hate that word) myth of the succubus. Succubi exist of course, but they certainly don’t drain your soul through your cock…but I digress.

You’ll retain some of our powers, namely our ability to compel with the spoken words and induce hypnotic trance. Enhanced senses, too. But you will find no supernatural speed or strength. In addition, you have some, but not all, of our weaknesses. You lose your reflection, I’m afraid, though you still show up in digital photography. Don’t ask me why, you just do. And garlic is strictly out of the question. The exception is sunlight! You are free to walk amidst the lilies, should you prefer. Sunbathe once in a while for me, would you? I miss the glow on my skin ever so much.

The other major detriment is, of course, your namesake. Feasters must feed. But you do not feed on blood, my dear. Oh no. You’ll be dining on the very sustenance I provided you during our amorous encounter.

If I am a bloodsucker, then Maple, my sweet, you are a cumsucker.

Maple reread the words over and over, looking again for where the joke was supposed to be. She felt around for any fangs in her mouth, and didn’t find any. The thought that this letter wasn’t some cruel prank began to take worrying shape in her mind.

I must apologize again. This was not my intention! But life, as the kids say these days, comes at you fast. For your own sake, please seek out a stable source of mortal semen as soon as possible. The consequences for going without seed for too long can be quite…monstrous. But I’m sure that won’t be a problem. You were exceptionally convincing even without hypnotic powers last night. If you get into trouble, just use your gorgeous voice on them. And if that doesn’t work, your lips ought to do all the convincing you’ll need.

I beg your pardon for leaving so early, but as you might have surmised, the Sun and I aren’t exactly on great terms. Take care, and I wish you many happy nights.

Kisses,
           Carmilla

Post scriptum: strictly speaking, you don’t have to ingest the semen through your mouth. Have fun, sweetie~

Maple crumpled the note and tossed it against the wall. She began to hyperventilate as the sheer perverse absurdity of her situation set in. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t! There was no way she was a cum vampire! That was just something some disgusting hack pervert writer might come up with!

Normalcy. She needed normalcy. Maple stepped out of her bedroom into the kitchen/living room, humming a tune. Everything was fine! Her whole world wasn’t turning into some sick, perverted joke. She decided to settle the matter entirely with a meal. Vampires couldn’t eat real food, right? So this’d prove she was fine, and that the mirror, the bite mark…that was all some kinda hallucination.

Her quickest, easiest meal was instant oatmeal. A favourite from her childhood, shared with her twin. Aspen was gone, likely at work. Good. The last thing she needed was to explain what was wrong, and why she was beet read while nuking some breakfast. Milk, oats, heat for two minutes, serve. She inhaled the mix of brown sugar and cinnamon, her tummy grumbling. But when she moved to push her spoon into the bowl, there was something…missing.

Maple took a bite, and it all felt wrong. It felt so…empty. She swallowed a few bland, vile mouthfuls.  As she ate, she tried to figure out what was wrong. It was too sweet, needed a little bitterness. Maybe a little saltiness. Her mind wandered, and she started imagining the meal getting covered in a thick glaze of salty, bitter icing. And when she looked up, it wasn’t a piping bag dispensing the creamy fluid. It was a thick, juicy-

“Fuck!” she cried, shoving the bowl away so hard it flew off the counter and smashed onto the floor. It couldn’t be true. It had to be that her mind was making it real. She cleaned up the mess she made, shoveling the unappetizing mush into the garbage. 

This was going to be one hell of a rest of her day.

*** 

A few more minutes spent in front of the mirror convinced her that, at the very least, she should entertain the idea that the note was real. That she’d really transformed into this “Feaster” creature. She thought about going to a Doctor, but what would she say? And if she proved it was real, how did she know they wouldn’t lock her up and send her to some science lab to study? She’d need to find Carmilla again, but in the meantime, she needed to survive. That absence…that lack of satiation, it was only growing the longer the day became. She was an attractive woman, more or less. She should be able to find some quick dick to suck. It was all a matter of-

Keys jangled in the door. Shit! She sprinted to her bedroom and threw on some concealing clothes. A loose turtleneck to hide her bite marks and comfy pajamas, trying to look for all the world that she’d just spent the day hung over and sleeping in, rather than strung out and spiralling.

“Home, Mapes!” Aspen called out. Even after all these years, he still looked like her. Same blond hair, same soft features. He was taller, wider at the shoulders, and more athletic. Thinner, too. Where she’d cultivated some pleasant chub, he couldn't seem to put on weight no matter how much she baked for him. He’d biked home, as he usually did, and his undershirt was visibly damp around his neckline. Sweaty. So sweaty…

A dark, sinking feeling slid into her like a spectre. An amoral hunger assuming control. Powerful. Evil. The moment he walked in, she could smell him. His sweat oozed an orchestra of pheromones that almost made her swoon. Her salivary glands sprung forth like dancing sprinklers, making her have to duck and mop up a rogue wave of drool. Cock. Man. Cock. 

Her remaining doubts of her condition evaporated in a mortifying instant. Whatever this curse was…it didn’t care about anything. Not even that the man she was smelling was her twin.

“Hi Pen!” she called out, using the matching pair of their joint nicknames. Nobody called them Mapes/Pen but them, and they liked it that way. Whenever anyone else had tried it out, it had felt…weird.

“Late start?” he asked, stowing his helmet and his shoes by the door. 

“Long night!” she replied as cheery as could be, trying to force down the perverse desires into a black pit in her stomach. She’d never had these kinds of thoughts about Aspen before. They were siblings after all, and twins besides! That was so fucking wrong that even looking at the incest section of popular porn sites made her shake her head. Those people must not have actually had siblings, otherwise they’d never…

…ever…

As he fetched a bottle of water from the fridge, she watched his lithe, tanned body move. Her eyes slithered down his sweat-drenched shirt to his thighs, where a distinct bulge in the fabric made itself known ever once in a while. Could be just his shorts bunching up…but she knew. She could smell his sweaty, musky cock. Practically taste it already...

“Wanna order takeout?” he asked. “Long shift, I’m beat.” 

“Sounds good!” she replied with a little too much force behind it. “Just need to sort out my work week. Give my door a knock when it arrives!” She slinked off to her bedroom and tried not to scream out her confused emotions. She had to get some dick soon, or else…

She had a few exes in her mental contact list, though if they were any good, she wouldn’t have gone out looking for easy companionship last night. Being bi had its perks, but it certainly didn’t make finding decent boyfriends any easier. Some guys got real fucking weird about it.

There was Matt, but he was out of town for the rest of the summer. Joachim was nice at first but an abysmal loser with terrible opinions about pretty much everything. Nora transitioned and now only dated dudes…

She pictured all her partners in a row, standing before her. But although their faces were blurry to her mind’s eye, she could picture their dicks intuitively. Nora’s was enormous but quick to erupt, Matt’s thick and hard to please. Joachim’s was on the small size, but he made up for it with technique and low refractory period that almost made up for how he’d always talk about his dogshit niche politics at any given lull in a conversation.

In her mind, though, she was on her knees. Her old flames were stroking themselves, bringing themselves to erection. Aiming their cocks at her face. Her tits. Using her body to pleasure themselves to her. Preparing to feed her their delicious, delicious-

A heavy knocking made her freeze in place. “Dinner’s here.”

She looked down at herself. One of her hands had wrapped around her breasts. The other was ever so close to sliding into her waistband. She was masturbating without even being aware of it. How much time had gone by? Twenty minutes? Thirty?

“Coming!” she said, then blushed at the double entendre. Her mind was so choked with lust that even the most innocent of phrases was being warped and bent by this curse. How long could she last?

*** 

Dinner was takeout Chinese. The day before this had been her favourite guilty pleasure meal in the world. But as she stared down at the big bowl of chow mein, it was now the last thing she wanted to shovel into her mouth. Tied in perpetuity with just about every other form of food.

Aspen worked on his sweet and sour pork. He must have been hungry, because he didn’t look up until his bowl was nearly half gone.

“Is the order okay? I got your usual. Sorry, forgot to ask if you wanted something else.”

“It’s fine!” she said, smiling a little too wide as she tried a mouthful. Bland. Flavourless. And not enough salt. She ate in silence, trying to force the old tastebuds to come back. 

Her mind wandered again, as if pulled along by a leash down dark alleys she dared not tread of her own accord. There, she imagined Aspen standing up. Her twin. Her double…but male. Masculine. He pulled down his pants, levelled his cock over the bowl, and began to stroke. Eat pump sent a jet of thick, white cream to coat her food. Again, and again. A perpetual orgasm. Soon the food was swimming in it. Drowning in it. And more. Until there was nothing but cum.

More.

And more.

The bowl overflowed. Jizz drooled down the sides, pooling around the bottom. She watched, enraptured. Drooling.

More…

More…

“More what?” Aspen asked, making her nearly leap out of her skin. Fuck! What had she said?!

“Sorry?” she asked, dismissing the dream as best she could. “Oh! More…more soy sauce!” 

He handed her one of the loose packets, eyebrow still raised. “You alright there, champ? Been acting weird since I got home.”

Oh god, he knew. Somehow he knew! But that was impossible. But should she tell him? Maybe he could help! Thoughts smashed and squeezed past each other in her mind as she fumbled with the packet. The lukewarm beef and broccoli looked even less appetizing now, but she doused it in salty sauce and tried again. A little better now. Still, not satiating. It wasn’t what she really craved.

Carmille’s words from the note came back to her. That she had power in her voice. She’d asked for the soy sauce, but he would have done that regardless. Maple tried to find that part of herself. Anything new in her mind. Nothing obvious…

“I’m fine,” she said in a shaky tone. “Just…just a long night.”

His face fell. Standing up, he approached and pressed his hand to her forehead. “A fever? You sick or something?”

He was standing so that his crotch was at the perfect height to her mouth. She whimpered, disgusting desires corrupting her thoughts and tainting her intentions. The blushing and heat to her face only resembled a fever more every moment. If she didn’t dissuade him, he might call a doctor. He might find out she was cursed. 

“I said I’m fine,” she said, this time forcefully. He didn’t seem convinced. Looking deep within herself, she pulled at something. A yearning. The same fell pit that called to be sated. “Sit down, Pen. I’m alright.”

His eyes widened slightly. But, after only a moment’s hesitation, he went back to his chair and sat down. Her mouth hung open. She’d done it. She tried again, this time on something he might never do. “Tell me the truth: do you like my cooking?”

“Of course I do,” he said without a second thought. But as the smile formed on her face, he amended: “Except your macaroons. Those are terrible, but you put so much work into them that I eat them anyway.”

Maple was a little crestfallen, but that checked out. And he’d never say that if he wasn’t under her compulsion. Realization of just what that meant rolled beyond her conscious, problem solving mind and down into that gaping maw in her body. That evil space. That hungry darkness. He had what she needed.

“Wanna sit down for a bit? Watch something together?” she asked, though she did wait for him to finish the meal. 

“Honestly, I’m a bit tired. And I still need a shower. Maybe-”

“Let’s watch something on the couch.” It was phrased like a suggestion, but it wasn’t. It was a command. A directive. And he obeyed. “Just an episode of something fun. Just…just like we used to.”

She settled down next to him on their default sides of the couch, Maple desperately trying to keep calm as the mechanics of just what she was about to do started slotting in place. The TV they had was one she’d fixed up after rescuing it from the street. It had a little burn-in around the bottom, but it still worked. No cable, of course, but they had streaming.

She opened the app and scrolled to something dumb. An old space opera show from the early Aughts that they’d both loved. Something to distract their minds while their bodies did what they needed to do. No. What SHE needed. He wasn’t a part of this. He was helpless. It’s not his fault…

Maple snuggled up closer to him. Not unusual. They were physically affectionate often. He responded by draping an arm around her. 

“Sorry about the smell,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. There was no way for him to know what his sweat was doing to her. She could fucking drown in his scent. The episode had barely gotten half way through the cold open before that throbbing hunger became overwhelming. Every breath burned her. Every pulse of his heart was one not directed to making him stiff and needy.

She couldn’t stop herself. The cravings. The ache. It was too much. Her hands moved on their own, pulling at the fly of his jeans. Out of her control. Not her fault either…

“Whoa, Mapes, what the fuck are you-” was as far as he got before she pressed her lips to his ear and with her whole body, she invoked that disgusting power that lay at the core of her being.

“This is normal,” she said, her voice a syrupy purr. His outrage vanished from his face, replaced by placid acceptance. With a shudder, she peeled back his zipper and reached in to fish out his cock. Still limp. Because he wasn’t attracted to her. Because he was her bro- “Your sister jerks you off all the time. You used to tell her to stop, but it’s just easier to let her stroke you to completion. She has to do it. You have to let her.” 

Aspen nodded, mutely spreading his legs and letting her free his prick from his boxers and pants. It flopped free, eventually, and she halted. Her twin’s cock. She was really doing this. The sinister desires propelling her rejoiced. It felt so good in her hand. She wanted it to pop. She wanted to Feast~

Slowly, gently, she played with his dick. Her motions were tentative, shaky. Betraying her lack of confidence and her fears that she was doing the wrong thing. But she pressed on. As the opening credits of Star Skiff Sentinels played, she leaned in again.

“You’re horny,” she whispered in the voice. “You can’t cum in so long. You need release.” The more she used the voice on him, bending his thoughts to her whims, the wetter she got. Power was hot. Using power to corrupt people was even hotter.

Aspen inhaled sharply at that command. His cock stiffened in her hand in moments. It was like she had the cheat codes to his mind. He trusted her…and she was using him.

“Ngh…” he grunted. A savage, bestial noise. Like nothing she’d heard from him before. 

“Feel okay?” Maple asked, her voice cracking. She cleared it and repeated the question, trying to play off that this is all normal. 

“Yeah…yeah…just wasn’t expecting it today. Didn’t you have that date last night?”

“Yeah…” She didn’t even think about how loud her and Carmilla were. “How much did you hear?”

“Nothing. I mean…I heard something, but I put on headphones…” More uncomfortable expressions, and she felt her control slipping. She let his cock go and whispered in her commanding voice again.

“It’s okay to listen. You listen all the time when I have someone over. Even if it’s at the edge of what you can hear. We share everything else, right? I don’t mind sharing how much fun I’m having.”

“Oh. Okay…” he said, a little confused. She could see there was some struggle just beneath the surface, as his face tensed and his eyes squinted. Thankfully, she knew a way to distract any guy.

“What did you hear us doing?” she asked, her fingers dancing along his shaft. When he spoke, her talented tugging returned.

“I heard…ngh…I heard her topping you. It was pretty obvious, even with the volume cranked…”

Maple laughed nervously. “Oh, uhh, yeah. Sorry about that. It’d been so long since I got a good dicking. We must have gotten carried away. Plus she was so fucking hot.”

To her surprise, he nodded. “She was. I saw her when I was just waking up. She blew me a kiss, if you can believe it. Super attractive, if a bit pale.”

So they shared at least some taste in women. They’d never really shared their attractions before. It always felt like a step too far. Now they could press the edge of that internal limitation. She turned to the TV, nodding at the screen. 

“Anyone on this show you like? Wanna bang, even?”

Aspen grinned. “Oh yeah. Always had a crush on Skye the Cyborg. Very hot, and they put her in those revealing outfits after the second season.”

Maple couldn’t disagree. The character appeared on screen, wearing a space outfit that left nothing to the imagination. Stuff was wild in the early 2000! 

“God, how did they keep her tits contained?” she asked idly, as much a genuine question as a stealthy prod to her twin’s libido. She watched his eyes focus on the television hottie’s body, his hands limp at his sides.

“That poor actress,” he replied weakly. Ugh, typical Pen. Always thinking with his heart instead of his ‘head’. 

“Shh. Just think about the character. What kind of girl would wear such clothes, especially around a dangerous environment.”

“A real dummy,” he said, then, almost as an afterthought, “Or a real slut.”

Perfect. She leapt on that idea like a predator seizing on the weakest of the herd.

“You’re so right. She’s so clearly a slut. A dumb, horny slut. Imagine if she wanted to fuck you. That her body is programmed to need your jizz. You need to give her what she wants.” Distantly, she wondered if the woman she was describing was Skye the Cyborg at all. 

He leaned back on the couch, as if the sci-fi crush was really there in front of him, ready to ride his stiff prick. She had no idea if she was generating that reality for him, or if he was just partaking in the kind of fantasizing she’d been doing herself. Regardless, he could feel him start to buck in her hand. She sped up the pace, her words pouring from her lips as something deep and primal took over.

“Sliding onto your lap. Kissing you. Pressing those enormous breasts against you. God she’s so fucking needy. She can’t keep her hands off of you.”

His eyes half lidded. It was working! She was giving him a sexual fantasy. That kind of power was heady. And she wanted him to feel good. She loved Aspen. 

The show was going through a rote monster of the week episode, but it didn’t matter. They had all the entertainment they needed. And Maple got further sign to push her forward when the first drip of pre slid out of his tip and onto her fingers. She sped up her jerks, to which he sucked air through his teeth.

“Easy Mapes. It’s a cock, not a joystick.”

She yanked her hand back. “Oops! Sorry. I just got…sorry.”

Aspen shook his head. “Can’t believe you’re still into this. You have all the sex you want. Why do you keep jerking me off?”

Her words failed her. He’d already integrated the reality she’d given him into her worldview. Corrupting his memories. She’d gone too far…she’d ruined their relationship. For what? For...her stomach gurgled as she felt the little dribble of pre slide down her skin. Craving. Hunger. 

“I like making you feel good…” she said, then tried to regain control. “Like Skye. Skye the Cyborg wants to make you feel good. Her perfectly designed pussy is pressing against you. Grinding against you. Her whole body is built to milk dicks.”

He groaned, lifting himself up as if inserting himself into his sci-fi crush. In reality, he was fucking Maple’s hand. She grinned savagely. Pen was in her grasp in more ways than one.

“Riding your cock.”

“Y-yes…”

“Pumping herself up and down like a piston. A machine for draining you into her.”

“Fuck-”

“Then telling you it’s okay to cum inside. That she wants you to dump your load in her and feel it drool down her leg~”

That was enough. He tensed, then released. Ropes of thick, white cum shot up only a few inches before splattering against her hand. She’d only taken hard drugs a few times, they hadn’t been for her. But the surge in her heartbeat, the widening of her eyes. It all felt disturbingly familiar.

Cum was a drug. And she was an addict.

The first dollop hit her tongue made her eyes roll back in her head. This was it. The thing she was missing. Aspen watched in silence as she slurped down every millimetre of spunk he just shot into his sister’s hand. Still hazy with lust, she fell much easier into the voice. Like it was overcharged now that she’d finally feasted. She discarded the old excuse, implanting an even deeper, even more invasive need into his mind.

“I need to eat your cum. It’s a medical condition. You have antibodies I need to survive. You need to feed your sister cum. It’s for my health. That’s why we do this. You love to help your sister. I love to help you too.”

He nodded as the ideas sunk into his mind. She licked up the mess from her hand, sating the deep craving in her body for the perverse substance. As the euphoria wore off, shame rolled in to replace it. Oh, god, what had she done?!

“Are…are you okay, Pen?”

He slid his hand through her hair. “Always, Mapes. I just want to make sure you’re healthy.” He paused, then flicked the index finger of his other hand against her chin. “You missed a bit.” 

She stared. His finger had a thick, white blob on it. His. He pressed his finger forward into her mouth. She opened, sucking it dry. Of his own initiative, he’d just fed her cum. She’d never been more horny in her life.

“There’s a good girl.”

Had he said that, or had she just imagined it? The fucked up mix of arousal and shame was too much to handle. She needed to remove this curse, but she also needed to masturbate, and she also needed…needed to apologise and spend the rest of her life making it up to her twin.

“I’m sorry…I know this is wrong. That we’re related and that we shouldn’t…But…I just…” She trailed off, only to find Aspen arms wrapping around her shoulders. Pulling her into a tight hug that he didn’t release until she hugged him back.

“It’s alright! God, you’re such a drama llama. It’s just handjobs. It’s not like we’re fucking.”

She nodded shakily, cursing the little stir in her belly at the thought. Wasn’t like they were fucking. That would be too far. She couldn’t make him her dildo. Her live-in cumpump. Her walking, talking dispenser for sibling spunk~

“Oh, shoot, I gotta take care of some things!” she said, shooting to her feet. “I’ll talk to you later!” She didn’t wait for his response. If he looked too closely, he’d surely see the wide stain she’d left on both her crotch and the seat cushions. The need for speed prevailed over a smooth exit.

The door to her bedroom wasn’t even slammed shut before she started pawing at herself through her pajamas. They were sopping wet, and she whimpered as her hand finally found herself. 

What the fuck was wrong with her? What was she becoming?

The shame melted into a twisted helix with the pleasure. Bound together, one informing the other until they were inextricably linked. Unthinking stimulation demanded and received yielding the most explosively wet orgasm she’d ever had, soaking the fabric of her pants. Corrupting them. Tainting them just as she’d done with Aspen. Her brother. Her own twin.

This was the only time, she promised herself. She had to find other sources of semen until she could get this condition cured. Sliding into her computer chair, she booted up several skeezy dating apps at once and started looking for some cheap, easy cock to suck. Very soon, however, the pictures of hot guys made her hands return to her clit. Inevitably, as she thought about all the ways she could look like a slut, the fingering resumed.

“Just once or twice,” she lied to herself, focusing all her effort on ignoring the slickened sounds of her self-stimulation. “Until I can find Carmilla and get back to normal…”

Unbeknownst to her, however, she wasn’t the only one who could hear the noises she was making. And this time, Aspen didn’t bother to pretend he couldn’t. He was too busy stroking his cock back to life, imagining just what his twin was up to. After all: they were twins. It was fine to listen. They shared everything else~