Sibling Rivalry

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DuckStewStories
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Sibling Rivalry

Post by DuckStewStories »



The first time I tied up my sister Josie. She continues to inspire (and annoy) me to this day.



“Why aren’t you writing?” Josie said. She’d barged into Stewart’s room, uninvited as always, and found him playing Mortal Kombat III on his N64 instead of pounding away at his keyboard working on his latest story.

“What?” he said, not bothering to divert his eyes from the screen. He’d heard her; even if he hadn’t, he would’ve known what she’d said. She always bugged him for new pages. But he pretended not to hear sometimes to irritate her back.

“Grrrr….” she stepped between him and the TV. “You should be writing!”

“Seriously?” he said, pausing the game, likely mid-uppercut, and dropping the controller onto his lap. “What the fuck Annie?”

Josie paused, wracking her brain. Stewart knew her name and loved making odd references he knew she wouldn’t understand. However, sometimes she picked up on them and ruined his fun.

“It’s a Stephen King reference,” Stewart said, picking up his controller. “Now, get out of the way.”

“You know I hate his books.”

“Yeah. Hence the reference. Are you going to move or not?”

“Not. I need to know what happens!”

“If you don’t leave me alone, I’m just going to tell you.”

Josie gasped and immediately clasped her hands over her ears. “You know you can’t do that!” she said. “It’s one of those things.”

“Fuck…” Stewart muttered. ‘One of those things’ was their code together for odd idiosyncrasies they each had. Plenty could be dealt with or tweaked, but some were simply ‘one of those things.’

Josie was Stewart’s sole audience even though she never enjoyed reading, stemming from a lack of imagination. Books always felt like an impenetrable fortress that everyone else could easily access. But one day, reading her brother’s story, a mental image leaped from the page and into her brain: A timer on a bomb counting down to destruction. And, of course, it had been a cliffhanger that she had to wait for him to resolve.

He’d offered to tell her simply, and she’d readily accepted. Unfortunately, merely hearing the words—‘He manages to stop the bad guy and defuse the bomb. Oh yeah, and save the girl.’—had left her underwhelmed, to say the least. And, by the time she’d read it, any hopes of picturing it were long gone.

Although, she had enjoyed reading his descriptions of the damsel tied up near the bomb.

“Fine,” he said, “I’ll work on it after…” he trailed, having finally bothered to look at his sister instead of attempting to use the X-Ray vision he thought he might have inherited.

She’d dressed in one of her Christmas outfits, a dress with a red top and black skirt, a red sash and bow, red tights, black Mary Janes, and, of course, her oversized round glasses. They weren’t thick enough to be Coke bottles, but were reminiscent of the pocket sized magnifying glass Stewart used to carry around in case of mysteries.

Her hair she’d pulled up into a ponytail, but it didn’t protrude from the back of her head. Instead it stuck out the side, looking to Stewart as if a bullet had entered the opposite side and begun to plow through the hair on the other side. Although she’d never admit it, she got the idea after seeing a picture of their Mom from the 80’s, before they’d gotten to know each other.

“What’re you wearing?” Stewart asked, regretting the question the second it passed his lips and knowing the inevitable answer.

“Clothes,” she said, smirking at his irritated expression.

“You know it’s June, right?” he said, refusing to continue giving her the satisfaction. However, them talking instead of him playing his disgusting, bloody video game provided her with the majority.

“Is it June already?” she said.

Stewart sighed. She always knew exactly what day it was. Otherwise, it would throw off her routine. It seemed they were playing an irritating game of chicken, wondering who would break first.

Stewart always broke first.

“What about you and your wannabe grunge outfit?” Josie said. She always hated when Stewart made fun of her outfits. Her parents always tried to get her to dress more ‘normal’ and hated whenever Stewart bought her something new she liked.

She’d immediately change into it, and he'd tell her she looked beautiful, and then she'd rush to show her parents, who’d reply with a curt ‘That’s nice.’ They’d say something about her buying herself cute outfits, but never when Stewart bought her anything.

Stewart had learned to act ‘normal’ and therefore got a pass. He had ‘normal’ friends who were into sports and video games instead of books and anime. But Josie knew it was all an act.

He didn't care about sports and barely knew anything about them. And her brother knew something about everything. He’d just learned to say things like: “Did you see that touchdown?” hoping there had, in fact, been a touchdown recently.

Josie never cared nor understood the desire to pretend to be someone else. She was just Josie. But Stewart so often got lost in his stories that she doubted he even understood how deep he’d become in the story of his own life. As long as he didn’t act with her, Josie didn’t mind.

Plus, having a ‘cool’ brother came with its benefits—basically the opposite of having a ‘weird’ brother. Instead of picking on her, people left her alone. And she often wondered if he did it for himself, her, or a bit of both. But she knew he’d never admit it. It was ‘one of those things.’

“Hey,” Stewart said, snapping her back to reality. She hadn’t realized she’d zoned out, but he’d waited patiently until she’d begun to snap out of it. His ‘hey’ mixed ‘wake up’ with ‘what’s wrong with my clothes?’ in a way she never could. But it was perfect. She snapped back to reality and immediately knew what to say:

“That’s not an album…” she said.

Stewart groaned. He hadn’t remembered putting on his Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep shirt but immediately caught her reference. A book cover adorned his shirt, but he’d let his friends believe it was a new album from his favorite band that they’d never heard of. And unfortunately, he made the ultimate mistake: telling his sister.

Over it, he'd tossed on a plaid button-up with a hood—in case he needed to pretend not to know her, he’d said, but she knew he never would—which he'd left open to show off his shirt, his hipster Buddy Holly glasses—complete with masking tape in the middle—a holey pair of jeans and a pair of grey chucks that didn't quite match his shirt. He had multiple colors of chucks and always attempted to match them to his shirt.

Josie wished they had the same sized feet, and she could borrow his chucks outside of occasionally putting them on and poking fun at his clown-sized feet. She seemed to have already ceased growing, and the majority of Stewart's growth spurts had involved his feet. As much as she enjoyed poking fun, she hoped the rest of his body would eventually catch up.

He’d begun to bleach his hair, but after realizing blonde didn’t suit him, he started coloring it with temporary colors. He often picked various shades of green, claiming it made him look like the Joker, but it was Josie’s favorite color.

“Aren’t you old enough to not need a babysitter anymore?” he said, deciding changing subjects faired better than outright forfeit. He had every intention of writing but didn’t want Josie thinking he’d bent to her will. The fact that he technically was her babysitter always irritated her.

“Old enough for a better one, maybe.”

“Who the hell’s better than me? I doubt anyone else would let you barge in on them whenever you wanted and annoy them with your stupid questions or because you suddenly had the urge to tell me all about Digimon.”

“I can't believe you stopped watching with me. Also, you know you can lock your door, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, intoning that he purposely didn't, although he knew she wouldn't pick up on it.

“Thanks,” she said, giving Stewart pause.

“What?” he said, unsure how to react.

“Nothing…” she muttered.

“Okay,” he said, deciding not to embarrass each other into admitting they were friends. “Who’s your ideal babysitter here?”

He held back mentioning the creature from Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark that had given her nightmares for almost a month after he’d thought it comical to read it to her. That one had even creeped him out, but he hadn’t expected her overwrought reaction. She’d demanded to sleep in his room until the nightmares subsided, fearful of being left alone at night. And, since it’d been his idea to read it to her, commandeered his bed as well. His grumblings from the floor had lulled her to sleep, reassuring her that she wasn’t alone in the dark.

“I mean...” she began, not wishing to hurt her brother's feelings. She loved hanging out with him, and he kept her out of trouble, but she often fantasized about someone else.

“Just tell me,” he said. He could always tell when she feared hurting his feelings, often forgetting his skin had grown invulnerable like a superhero while growing up with their parents. However, she remained the sole individual that could pierce it.

“Okay, I’d want a girl babysitter,” she began.

“Of course,” Stewart said. She paused and looked at him, unsure whether to continue. He held out a hand, beckoning her to continue with an apologetic nod. Often he’d throw in weird asides and throw off Josie’s flow. It was one of those things.

“And she’d need to be older. Two years is too close. And she’d be super cute and have purple hair—“

“What is she an anime character?”

“No, she’d just be like a high schooler,” she said, ignoring him. Her monologue had become an unstoppable force. “But maybe like one of your book characters. Like she’d be a snoop or something. And she’d look out for me, but like, we wouldn’t be siblings. We’d be…more.”

“Girlfriends?”

“Something like that.”

Stewart knew his sister was a lesbian since she’d mentioned having a crush on a girl named Emma in the first grade. It hadn’t mattered to him, but their parents hadn’t taken it well. That’d transferred him from unbiased to ally.

But there were still secrets she harbored from him. Although some she wished to share but unfortunately didn’t know how. She’d always bug him, hoping an opportunity would arise, but eventually, they’d merely reach an impasse.

“You want to hear my fantasy about getting to play my video games and shit without my bratty sister busting in on me and bugging me to write? It’s a pretty good one.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said, visibly deflating. “I’ll leave you alone.” She cleared his view of the TV, heading towards the bedroom door.

He focused his attention on the frozen image before him—his character about to be pummeled by a mid-level boss—as he groped blindly for his controller. He hadn’t realized it’d slipped from his lap. “Ugh…” he groaned, tearing his eyes from the TV and looking at his sister. “You know I hate when you do that.”

“I know,” she said, briefly turning back, her face split between a smirk and a scowl, unsure how the rest would play out.

“If you promise to shut up, you can stay. Okay?”

“Are you going to write?”

“What’d I just say?”

“Grrrr….” Josie had become irritated. Usually, her brother was the smart one, but today he seemed intentionally dense. “Why don’t you make me?” she snapped at him.

“I wish I could…” he muttered.

“GRRRRRR….” louder this time.

“Are you all right over there? Do you need some Pepto or something?”

“You remember watching Raiders of the Lost Ark?”

“I remember you freaking out at the end.”

“And I remember you made me rewind it when I said the girl was tied up and gagged after you went to the bathroom.”

“She was alive! It was crucial to the plot!”

He vividly remembered the scene, Marion turning and looking into the camera, a strip of cloth secured tightly between her teeth. He remembered a few other scenes from movies and cartoons—Daphne from Scooby Doo was a favorite—and each time, one of them would spew out a random excuse to rewind it.

“Okay, fine,” he said, searching and finding the controller. It’d fallen to the ground, but he hadn’t noticed. He picked it up and turned from Josie back to the TV, pressing START, and, in the blink of an eye, a swift uppercut decapitated his character.

“CONTINUE?” the fight announcer asked before beginning its countdown. “9…8…7….”

“See what happens when you won’t shut up?” he said with a grin, hoping Josie would notice it and realize joked. He’d been about to lose before she ever set foot into his room, but sometimes blaming her for things helped. Especially when she clearly had no impact.

“6…5…4….”

“Why don’t you make me?” she replied with her mischievous smirk, her tongue poking slightly from the edge of her upturned lip.

“3…2…1….”

***

They ventured into the garage together; Josie refused to cease prattling the entire way. Once she caught sight of their father’s duct tape, Stewart could no longer keep up but could tell she was more excited than…

…when the hero’s girlfriend had been tied up, gagged, and hung over a tank full of hungry piranhas. He’d reveled in describing that scene and hadn’t realized until now how much she’d enjoyed reading it.

That was the first time she’d incessantly bugged him for more pages. Before that story, it had been daily questions for more, not constant barrages. But it got him to write more.

“This stuff is so sticky,” Josie said, picking up the full roll of duct tape and attempting to spin it around on her finger. It immediately rolled down to her knuckle like a hula hoop succumbing to gravity. “Way more sticky than I expected.”

“More…? How do you know that?”

She slid the duct tape from her finger, hiding it behind her back and smirking mischievously. “What do you think I do when you tell me to shut up and leave you alone?”

“I don’t know; I figured you went and listened to your music or something….”

Whenever things became quiet in the house, he automatically assumed Josie had receded to headphone land, the name he’d given her space when she’d had enough reality for a bit. She put on her headphones and jacked into her record player. Although sometimes she put on one of the various mixtapes he’d made her. She hated the music on them but loved that he’d made them for her. They were her ultimate gauntlet between them and their parents. Even by herself, she was never alone.

Once, when he’d managed to incur their wrath for a change and been confined to his room, she’d faced her record player towards the vent and curated her own mix for him. He’d appreciated the thought but laughed hysterically as she struggled to find the correct grove for each specific song.

“I did,” she said with a shrug. “I just…couldn’t sing along very well. At least I was quiet.”

Stewart couldn’t argue with that last statement. Perhaps this could be fun, he could tie her up, get some ideas for his stories, and she’d finally be—

“Ooh! Rope!” she practically screamed.

“What do they have rope for?” Stewart asked, puzzled. Their parents could barely change a lightbulb.

“The clothesline,” Josie immediately responded. “Ooh!”

Stewart paused and looked at his sister; her eyes were wide, and he wondered just what in the hell she’d spotted next. He glanced where she appeared to be staring but found only the chainsaw.

The cogs in his head began to grind, and a new story began to—

“Can you tie me to the clothesline?” Josie said, finally vocalizing her thought. Usually, Stewart could fill in the gaps—like verbal mad libs—unless a story idea reared its beautifully ugly head. Then both siblings often trailed off into their separate worlds.

“I mean I —“

“Like actually up on the cross? Like tie my arms up there and stuff?”

“You’re too short….”

“I’ll use the stepladder.”

“I thought you wanted to be tied in a chair so you could make sure I wrote. Not that you’ll be able to do anything.”

“Yeah, that first.”

“You know that we’re going to be siblings forever, right? We can do some of this next time they take a trip. Which will probably be in about a week.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re kicking me out on my 18th birthday. Probably at the stroke of midnight.”

“Once again, you realize I’ll be your brother forever, right?”

Josie smirked and tossed him the tape. He hadn't expected it and fumbled catching it but kept it airborne long enough to pretend it was a trick. Unfortunately, it bounced off his palm and dropped to the floor. She giggled as he scooped down to snatch it up.

“I’m glad you can at least write competent villains,” Josie said with a smirk.

“I’m pretty sure the damsels in my stories never toss tape to their kidnappers.”

“Oh, so you're my kidnapper now?” she said, her smirk growing wider.

“I mean... I’m... You know what I mean.”

Josie giggled. She loved when Stewart became flustered. Usually, he managed to maintain his composure, but she always got him to break.

“You still got all those...?” He paused. “Wait. Is that why you have all those bandannas?”

“Ummm...”

***

Returning to his room, Stewart tossed the ropes, duct tape, and bandannas onto his bed. Josie trailed directly behind, spewing out suggestions. He wished he could've covered her mouth with his hand, but both arms were filled with supplies.

“Okay,” he said, grabbing his desk chair and rolling it towards her, “have a seat.”

“You can’t tie me to that,” Josie said, giving his chair a disgusted look.

“The fuck I can’t. Sit down, and I’ll show you.”

“Your chair is lame...”

“Thank you.”

“You’ve got to tie me to one of the wooden ones from the kitchen. Those are classic, like in your stories.”

Stewart sighed, both because he wondered what sort of influence he had on his sister and because he had to wander over to the kitchen and drag one of the chairs down the hallway.

“One of these days...” he muttered, heading out, searching for the fabled classic wooden chair.

“Where were you going to sit to write if you tied me to your chair anyways?” Josie asked from behind, somewhat startling him.

“What’re you doing?” he said, hoping she hadn’t noticed his startled expression.

“I’m coming with,” she said, as if it should’ve been obvious.

“Why didn’t you get the chair then?”

“They’re heavy. And cumbersome. You know how hard it is to run down the hallway with one of these?”

“Why are you…?” He paused, realizing he already knew the answer. “How often have you done this?”

She looked at him, to the chair, and back to him. “Couple times?”

“Wow. And here I thought you told me EVERYTHING.”

“I don’t tell you…” She paused, and realized—due to a lack of anyone else to talk to—she did tell him almost everything. Anything she hadn’t already told him, she likely would by the time they ceased being siblings.

“Yeah,” he said, grabbing the chair and turning back towards the hallway.

“Hang on,” Josie said.

“What…?” Before he could finish asking, she sat in the chair and smirked up at him, kicking her feet excitedly. “We left all the stuff in my room. Besides, I’m not leaving you out here all tied up, sorry.”

“I know. Just drag me in the chair. If you’d brought the duct tape you could’ve tied me up out here and then dragged me in there.” She giggled excitedly at the thought of it.

“Maybe next time,” he said, one of the phrases he used when unable to say ‘no,’ AKA always. Grunting, he began to drag her down the hallway. Josie probably weighed about twice as much as the chair, unfortunately Stewart never felt any desire to workout and struggled dragging them the few feet towards his room. Wheels were another benefit of his chair.

“Next time?” she giggled. “Who says there’s going to be a next time?”

“You were literally telling me all the ways you wanted to be tied up five minutes ago.”

“Yeah,” she said. He waited for more, but none came. “And you never answered my question.”

“Which one?”

She’d been prattling and rambling for so long he hadn’t caught half of what she’d said. Sometimes she quizzed him on it, and he usually caught enough to pass. But with questions, she usually waited for a response.

“Where would you sit if you tied me to your chair?”

“On my futon.”

“Your—“ she leaped from the chair. He’d been exerting his full strength to pull both of them and suddenly found himself tumbling backwards down the hall. His ankle caught on the chair leg and his fingers clutched at the wall but found nothing to grasp. He crashed to the ground and stared towards the celing until Josie blocked his view.

“You were just going to play video games again? What were you planning on torturing me and making me watch while you played Mortal Kombat? You know that game grosses me out.”

“I’m fine by the way,” he muttered.

“I know. Not like I could do anything if you weren’t.”

“You could call me an ambulance,” he said, crawling slowly to his feet.

“See, if you’d brought the duct tape with things would have worked better.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d have a tough time calling 911 if you were tied up and gagged. Just a hunch.”

“I’d have a tougher time jumping out of the chair after you admitted you weren’t planning on writing.”

He grabbed the chair and tossed it into his room before she could sit back down. “I’m going to write. Just sometimes I like doing other things.”

“Like hanging out with your bratty sister?”

“I don’t really get a choice when it comes to that.” he said, playfully shoving her into his room.

She giggled and spun the chair so it faced Stewart’s desk, hopping onto it and excitedly staring at the various items they’d cobbled together. It was her turn to act, playing the role of the damsel in distress.

“You ready?” Stewart said, grabbing a length of rope.

She nodded excitedly.

***

“What the hell Stewart?!” Josie screamed.

“Seriously?” he said, spinning his chair to face her. “I’ve written one sentence.”

“I don’t care about your writing.”

“I don’t think you’ve said that to me since I asked you to read my first story.”

Barely secured ropes held Josie to the chair. He’d tied her legs to the front chair legs and lossely tied her wrists behind her. And, most insultingly, he’d merely tied a green bandana over her mouth—which she presently screamed at him from behind.

“How many years were you a Boy Scout?” she screamed, the bandana slightly getting caught in her mouth and finally muffling her a bit. The feeling of the cloth between her teeth only enraged her further. “I thought that’s all you guys did was learn to tie knots?”

“That’s…. Well, okay. That was the main thing I focused on.”

“And…?”

“I was trying to be nice. You know I do that sometimes, right?”

“You do it all the time. It’s honestly irritating sometimes.” She pushed her fingers together and easily slid her hand free from the knot before reaching up and pulling down the bandanna, letting it hang around her neck. “My fantasy babysitter would be a big meany.”

“Yeah, I know. Your fantasy babysitter is way cooler than me.”

“She is.”

“Since when did you start fantasizing anyways?”

“Since you were lame. See? I don’t tell you everything.”

“All right, fine.” he said, grabbing the duct tape. “Stewart, quit being so nice.” he said in one of his odd voices he put on. Usually he avoided doing them with her to avoid confusion, but they came out when he became irritated. “Be more like my fantasy babysitter. Not even like one of the villains in your stories.”

“That would work too,” she said, her tongue poking out with her mischevious smirk. She bent over and swiftly untied her legs before standing and flattening her skirt.

“Where are you going?” he said, cocking an eyebrow.

“I guess back to my room to listen to music. Have fun with your video—“

“Sit down,” he grumbled, tossing the duct tape towards his elbow and bouncing it back into his hand.

“What?”

“SIT. Down.”

Josie paused. She wasn’t used to Stewart speaking to her that way. She’d only heard him do it a few times previously, each time standing up for her. It was one of those things.

Seriously, sit down Josie,” he said in his normal annoyed voice. “Or move out of the way so I can try and beat Mortal Kombat III.”

She immediately sat down, pressed her knees and ankles together and crossed her wrists behind her back. “No Mortal Kombat!”

“Fine, here lean forward a little bit.”

She giggled as he wandered behind her, but did as requested. He gently gripped her crossed wrists and began to wrap the tape around them. She could barely feel it.

“That okay or—?“

“Tighter.”

“Tight—?”

“Tighter! I don’t want to get out. You’re going to be sitting right there. I’ll be fine.”

“Grrrrr…” He began to wrap the tape tighter, overlapping where he’d already taped and proceeding up to her elbows.

Josie attempted to pull her arms apart but they wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t explain why, but it felt exhilirating. She felt Stewart’s hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her back against the chair. As she reclined, she continued attempting to free her arms to no avail.

She heard the duct tape unfurling from behind and a pleasant shiver ran up her spine.

“Hold still,” Stewart said, lowering the tape in front of her. He stuck the tape across her chest, hooking the free end to the chair’s back. He pulled it taught across her chest and stuck the other end to the opposite side. “Ring around the rosey,” he began to sing, walking around her unspooling the tape.

“Make sure you save some,” Josie said, leaning forward, but realizing she could barely move her shoulders, much less her chest. She heaved a deep breath and felt her lungs fighting against the tape.

“You know that song’s about the black death?” Stewart said.

“Huh?” Josie said, exhaling sharply. She knew he loved sharing his weird facts, but now wasn’t the time.

“Ring around the rosie. It’s—“

“Aren’t you supposed to threaten me or something? How are you so good at writing these scenes but so bad at…this?”

“Grrrr…” he muttered, tearing the tape free and smacking it down onto her arm. He knelt down and peeled the edge free, sticking it to her left calf. “You remember when I first strarted writing?”

“Of course,” Josie said as he wrapped it around her calves, just below her knees. “You…Well…You’re much better now.”

“Exactly,” he said, continuing to wrap. “Shit takes practice.”

She felt her calves being smooshed together, layer by layer as he continued down towards her ankles. By the time he ripped the tape free, she could only kick her feet, which she playfully did. No more walking, no more moving. She felt completely helpless.

“You all right?” he said, spinning the remaining tape on his finger.

“I’m going to scream if you ask me that again,” she replied, letting her tongue poke out a little further, emphasizing her mischevious grin.

Stewart grinned back and gripped the edge of the tape. He pulled it wide, spreading his arms to their full wingspan with the tape held in between.
“Shut up Josie,” he said with a wink, pressing the edge of the tape against her cheek.

Josie pressed her lips togerther just before the tape wrapped over them, sealing them tight. He pulled it tight against her opposite cheek before continuing around the back of her head, pausing for a second to lift her ponytail as he wrapped back to the beginning, connecting the tape.

Stewart paused again, staring at the tape.

“Hm?” Josie asked. She usually hated her voice, but through the tape it sounded pleasant.

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug, resuming wrapping.

“Hm!”

“Shut up Josie, there’s not that much left.”

“Grrrrm…”

Stewart finished the roll gagging her and tossed the empty cardboard tube onto her lap. He took a step back and grinned, nodding proudly at his handiwork.

“Finally, I can play Mortal Kombat in peace.”

Up until that point, Josie had been content to simply flex her muscles and playfully struggle. But upon hearing those words, she closed her eyes and put her might into breaking the tape, but it refused to budge. She began to scream and curse into the tape covering her lips, but barely a sound made it out.

When she’d finally worn herself out, she felt exhilirated. Until she heard Stewart laughing at her.

“Grrrrm….” she glared at his futon, but he wasn’t there. She followed the sound of his laughter and found him sitting at his desk.

“Having fun?”

She mumbled something incomprehensible at him.

“Awesome. Back to work. Let me know when you want out.”

Josie watched him typing away for a minute, but realized the writing process was extremely boring. Luckily, struggling against the tape wasn’t. She pulled on the tape binding her wrists, but it refused to budge. She kicked her feet, thinking possibly it would loosen the tape arould her legs, but it held firm.

***

“All right,” Stewart said, pushing away from his desk. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Mm mn…” Josie muttered into the tape, shaking her head.

“Seriously?”

She began struggling and rambling into the tape.

“Fine. You know usually I bounce ideas off you when you hang out in here.”

“Ym,” she nodded.

Stewart’s head bobbed unconsciously like a chicken. Although his sister was tied and gagged, he felt like the hostage in the room. He grumbled and spun around, trying to decide what to write next.
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Dpsiic
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Post by Dpsiic »

Great story well written
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some_wanderer
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Post by some_wanderer »

Great story, can't wait to read more from you.
If your story has a little sister tied up by their brother,

I'll be there with comment and rating 👍
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Post by TightsBound »

Really well written with some great dialogue. Thank you for writing! Just curious, how old are the characters here?
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Post by DuckStewStories »

TightsBound wrote: 1 year ago Really well written with some great dialogue. Thank you for writing! Just curious, how old are the characters here?
Josie was 12 and I was 14 when that happened.
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Post by harveygasson »

Very good story
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Post by DuckStewStories »

Dpsiic wrote: 1 year ago Great story well written
Thank you!
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Post by DuckStewStories »

some_wanderer wrote: 1 year ago Great story, can't wait to read more from you.
Thank you! We’re reminiscing about some more fun times.
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Post by DuckStewStories »

harveygasson wrote: 1 year ago Very good story
Thank you!
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Solarbeast
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Post by Solarbeast »

Don't forget to gender tag this story and any others in the future.
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Merida_
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Post by Merida_ »

Nice story!
Merida : - )
DuckStewStories
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Post by DuckStewStories »

Merida_ wrote: 1 year agoNice story!
Thank you!
Tiengag5
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Post by Tiengag5 »

Great sibling bondage story.
DuckStewStories
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Post by DuckStewStories »

Tiengag5 wrote: 1 year ago Great sibling bondage story.
Thank you!
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