Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Changes By s19000 (M/F, tg desires, d/s, incest) "I want to be a faggot." Carol sat down across the table from her brother, Troy. She had short blonde hair, wore no makeup, and was dressed in a baggy sweater, loose khaki pants, and athletic shoes. Troy, who had a sandwich and a beer in front of him, was reading an automotive magazine. He didn't look up as he said, "Girls aren't faggots, guys are." "I still want to be one." Troy looked at his sister. "What's this all about? Are you trying to make me uncomfortable?" "What's to be uncomfortable about? You know some faggots, don't you? Aren't you friends with Julian? He's one, for sure." "Of course I'm friends with some gay guys. And not just Julian either. So what?" "So you're not a bigot. What's it to you if you know one more faggot?" "Carol, what ARE you talking about?" "You can call me Charles, if you want." "Who's Charles?" "Me. That's my faggot name." "Time out. No more, until you tell me what's going on here." "It's simple. Could you imagine having sex with my ex-boyfriend?" "Shit, no!" "Neither could I, but I did," said Carol. "Yeah. It's what couples do." "I know, but with Bob?" "You're the one who dated him. Besides, you're my sister, so I try real hard not to imagine stuff like that." "Does it work?" "What?" "Not imagining." "Where are you going with this?" asked Troy. "Just answer me. Does it work, not thinking about it?" "Cut it out." "What? We're adults. So tell me, have you ever imagined me having sex?" "Well shit, Carol. You're only two years younger than me, so when I was like eighteen, maybe. . . sometimes. . . sure. "I thought so." "Hey, you were a hot sixteen, and you always wore those sexy clothes. What do you expect? I'll bet a lot of guys at school beat off thinking about you. But I never bothered you, did I? Why bring it up now?" "Yeah, now. Do you think about me that way, now?" "No," said Troy. "I don't." "Why not? Aren't I sexy any more?" "Look, I have a perfectly good sex life. It's a lot better than when I was eighteen, I'll tell you that." "I'm sure it is, but what about it? Don't you think I'm sexy any more?" "Is this all because you broke up with Bob, and you're feeling insecure?" "No. I broke up with Bob because he's a horse's ass. And besides, he never once made me cum when he fucked my pussy." "Whoa! Too much information." "But I came when we did other things." "Way more than I need to know." "So let's change the subject. Do you think I'm sexy now?" "Carol, I'm twenty-one, you're nineteen. I think a lot of girls your age are hot. You're good-looking, and therefore if you weren't my sister, I'd definitely think you were hot. Is that what you want to hear? Only. . ." "Only what? Tell me the rest." "I guess maybe you used to show off your body more. Your clothes were sexier when you were, like sixteen and seventeen. Now you dress more conservatively. I thought it was because you were dating just one guy and all, but you're not dating him any more, and you haven't changed back." "Yeah, well, it has to do with dating, but not the way you think. In what way, specifically, am I less sexy?" "This isn't easy to talk about, you know?" "Don't give me that shit," said Carol. "You think about how girls look all the time." "But not about my sister. . ." "Come on, come on." "OK, OK! It used to be that your clothes emphasized your. . . your. . ." "My breasts?" "Yeah. They emphasized your breasts more. It was like I couldn't even walk past you without noticing. But now, all the things you wear are loose. It used to be you didn't have to guess, that's for sure." "OK, good. Anything else?" "Aw, shit. You used to wear tight pants or shorts all the time. It emphasized your ass and, you know. . . Not to me, of course." "Of course not. I'm your sister." "Right. But I heard guys talk. Now you always wear pants that make you look almost like a, I don't know, like a boy. I'm sorry, Carol, don't be insulted. I mean, you asked me." "I'm not insulted. You said exactly what I want to hear. Because of how I dress, I look more like a guy than a girl, right?" "Right. And your shoes, too, now that you make me think about it. You used to wear sandals a lot. They had heels, didn't they? And you had red toenails. That really made guys look. Now it's always tennis shoes and white socks." "Yep." "So is it because you're not ready for another relationship? Too soon after Bob?" "No, that's not it." "Because there are plenty of guys who would be glad to be friends while you get yourself together." "Hah! Plenty of guys who want to get in my pants, you mean. I thought you were smart about people, but you seem to have this little blind spot." "Maybe you're right," said Troy. "So you're deliberately trying to avoid attention? Is it working?" "Yes, but that's not it, at all. I'm dressing like a guy because I want to be a guy." "You want to be a guy?" "A boy. I want to find a man who'll treat me like a boy. His boy." "You know, guys have sex with guys, too." "What, you think I'm still thirteen? That's the point. I want a man to use me like a boy." "Use you?" "Is there an echo in here? Yeah. Use me." "I thought you just said you were dressing so that guys wouldn't pay attention to you, or something like that." "So they wouldn't pay attention to me as a girl. I want them to pay attention to me as a boy." "So that. . . what?" "So they'll use me to get off," said Carol. "I'm confused, here." "Look, Troy, here's what I'm telling you. I don't want a sexual relationship with a man where I'm the girl and the man uses my pussy. I want a sexual relationship with a man where I'm the boy and he uses my ass and mouth." "Oh man, what you're saying is seriously weird. Uh, look, I've got some things to do, so. . ." Troy pushed his chair back and started to get up from the table. "No you don't," said Carol, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down. "Don't you wonder why I'm telling you this?" "Of course! Why would you all of a sudden turn my whole picture of my sister -- who I love -- upside down?" "It's because I want a man to make me his boy, and you're the man I want." "What?" "You heard me. I want to be your faggot." "But I'm not gay. And besides, you're my sister!" "You said that about twenty times, and I know you're not gay. But you're a top, right?" "What do you mean?" "You like to be in control when you have sex," said Carol. "Tell the other person what to do." "How do you know that?" "So I'll bet you've wondered what it would be like to put some swishy guy on his knees and make him suck your cock?" "God, Carol, every guy's thought about that at one time or another. It's like having a jack off party. It doesn't mean anything." "And at those jack off parties, I'll bet you liked it when your cock was the biggest." "What about it?" "And I'll bet you like some down and dirty sex once and a while." "And if I do?" "Well, it's for sure your dick is bigger than mine. And what could be more down and dirty than fucking your sister's ass whenever you want sex? Or if she gets on her knees and sucks you off when there's no time for the real thing? Listen, people know we get along, so I can make up a story about money troubles and move in with you, and no one will think twice. They'll assume you're helping me out, when what you're really doing is getting a piece of ass from a little faggot whenever you feel like it." "Carol, I like girls!" "I'm a girl, aren't I? As long as it's OK that you don't get my pussy, just my ass and mouth, it'll work out great for you." "For Christ sake! I date girls. They suck me! I fuck them! It works for me." "But do they suck and fuck enough? All the time? Any time? Don't you want more sometimes? How about someone who'll fuck or suck whenever you want, no questions asked? That's me. I want it all the time, and I'll do it all the time. Think about it. All the time. Want a quick piece of ass when you come home from work? Take it, no small talk needed. Before hitting the sack? Do me anywhere in the house. Wake up horny? Use me before you even take a shower. A fuck after dinner? Bend me over the table. Need some while you watch the game? Just tell me to suck. Make me your little faggot, that's what you'll get." "Jesus, you make me sound like superman." "How much you get, lots or a little, it's your choice completely. You tell me when to fuck and when to suck. Ignore me for weeks, and then snap your fingers. You'll be in my ass in less than a minute. If you want to be sucked over and over all day, just put me on my knees and I'll open my mouth. God, it makes me excited just to think about it." "You should have gone into sales. You're making me think about it, too, but you're still my little sister." "Outside the house and for other people, that's what I'll be, so I won't to fuck up your life. But inside, I'll be your little faggot, and you can use me however you want to." Carol slid out of her chair and shuffled on her knees until she was in front of her brother. She pushed his legs apart and kissed his cock through his pants. "Say, 'Suck.' That's all you have to do. No reasons. No explanation. Not ever." "Oh, fuck." She looked up at her brother. "I want it. Make me your little faggot." Troy looked down at his sister and said, "Suck." His little faggot unzipped Troy's pants, took out his cock, and sucked.