(Literally) Crazy For Step-Cousin

A reader commissioned me to flesh out their real-world step-cousin fantasy. One of their wishes was for me to use their real names. Naturally, after sending them the original, I swapped the names before posting here. They had no issues with the story being shared.

Note: Contains morally ambiguous elements, dubcon themes, and some psychological undertones. Reader discretion advised. Proceed accordingly.

All the characters in this story are above the age of 18.

I'm a college sophomore. My parents mostly stay abroad due to work, and I live with Uncle Miles and his family—he simply wouldn't let me stay anywhere else. Uncle Miles... it feels weird even calling him that. For me, he has always been Miles, just Miles. As long as I can remember, he has always been like an older brother to me, forever supportive and caring. And that's why it feels even more immoral for me to harbor these feelings for his step-daughter.

Her name is Elyse. She entered my life when Miles remarried a couple of years ago.

Elyse doesn't have the prettiest of faces, nor the most jaw-dropping body, but still, even the thought of her makes mefeelthings. I feel electricity coursing through me just by talking to her. I lose all sense of time when she's with me. And even when she's not around me, the thought of her just stubbornly refuses to leave my mind.

In my ideal world, I'd want nothing more than to just sit idly with her and listen to her enchanting voice all day. Her voice feels bewitching, almost, when she says my name, gnawing at my sanity with each utterance.

People would think living under the same roof with someone you love is exhilarating. It's not. Not for me, at least. Living with her is nothing short of torment. Each day, I'm reminded again and again of the fact that I can't have her—Ishouldn'thave her—yet my unrelenting longing for her knows no bounds.

I don't think she's even aware of the inadvertent power she holds over me. My whole day is ruined if she doesn't say goodbye to me before going to school. My appetite is almost non-existent if I notice her being really bothered by something. And the worst of all: I feel like sinking into an endless, lightless void if I ever see her with Brian, her boyfriend.

Honestly, Brian simply looks like a deceitful fuck. Sooner or later, I might have to do something about him. And from the looks of what's happening tonight,soonerseems more fitting. He's been unusually chirpy with Elyse this evening. He even paid her a compliment... or maybe two? I wasn't able to hear them clearly over the absolute shitshow of a playlist this restaurant was playing. Anyway, I'm zoned in to their conversation now. He's talking about how he scored the greatest touchdown in the history of touchdowns. I've seen him play; the dude can't even catch a decent pass to save his life.

And moreover, Elyse doesn't even like football. It must be painful for her to hear all this crap.

But Brian, dude, comeon. Why the fuck would you set up a date in a Mac D and talk about nothing but football? It's all good, though. She might dump him herself. I won't have to interfere then. Good.

I'm sitting a table away from them in the world's most obvious (though still efficient) disguise: a dark baggy hoodie, a cap, and a pair of black sunglasses. The tables are pretty close in this particular joint, so that's a plus. But as if sitting in a Mac D while looking at Brian wasn't already infuriating enough, I had to order one of their god awful burgers to blend into the crowd.

I keep sneakily stealing glances at their table and notice Elyse excuse herself to the restroom. She walks past Brian, and he turns to take a look at her ass. That creepy bastard.

He turns to the table again. He's looking oddly jittery now. I notice his eyes languidly darting across the room in suspicious strides; he's worried about something—rather, something he's about to do. Brian takes out a tiny white packet from his jacket and furtively empties its contents into Elyse's soda, quickly stirring and mixing with the straw.

As awful as the situation is, I'm kinda happy as I finally have a reason now. A reason to dispose of this guy. I get up, walk to his table, and sit before him. Brian has never seen me before, as is evident from his baffled expression.

"256 Birch Lane," I say.

"Huh?" manages Brian, all color seeped from his face.

"I just want you to know that if you do decide to run, Iwillfind you there. At yourhome. And I'll be a lot less nicer then."

"...Who are you?"

"Who I am is irrelevant. What Iwantis all you should be concerned about."

He takes a moment. "And what do you want?"

"Just a friendly chat," I say, smiling. "Not here, though. Men's washroom."

Brian begins contemplating in distress. "What if I refuse?"

"Do youthinkyou're in a position to refuse, Brian?" I get up and start toward the washroom. He's still anxiously sitting. "Donald wouldn't be very thrilled about what you did today," I say without turning, and I could almost hear him turning to stone.

"You know my—"

Abusive, alcoholic, army vet, and greatly disappointed with his son; that's Donald, Brian's father. I turn my head. "Yeah. And pretty soon he'll know too about what you did—drugging your girlfriend. Oh, that's nasty. But don't worry, Brian. I'm not a cop or anything. I'm not here to turn you in or cause you trouble. I just want to have a proper talk with you. Like gentlemen. About why you decided to do what you did."

I start toward the washroom again and finally hear his reluctant steps behind me.

The men's washroom is conveniently empty, but I don't want to take any chances. I take him to the corner stall and lock it from the inside. I remove my sunglasses—I want to enjoy the moment without any hindrance.

Brian's face doesn't hide a sliver of panic. "Are you gonna rape me?"

I chuckle and put my left hand on his shoulder. "You wish," I say and plant my right fist violently on his lower rib section, catching him off-guard and knocking all the air out of him. He retches frantically, his unsightly eyes dying to pop out of their sockets.

I don't give him the time to process the impact and hit him with another blow. Then another. And another. All on the same rib, and all with the same hatred. My punches thump bassier than Motörhead's kick drums. I look at his face: all red and ready to explode. I think it is the fifth blow I swing that does the trick—my bare knuckles feel tearing through his rib, finally cracking it. I hit the spot a couple of times more just to make sure. He flops on the toilet seat.

He's somewhat alive as meandering streams of tears trickle down his cheeks, and his almost lifeless eyes stare into the abyss. He wasn't noisy, though, I'll give him that.

"I think we're done here." I smile and bend to fix his shirt. "I already think it should be painfully obvious by now, but one more thing. If I ever see you even within a mile of Elyse again, just one broken rib wouldn't do justice then.

"Oh yeah, and I trust you'll reckon that absolutelynothinghappened today, right? Cuz as awful as this place is, I'm kinda friends with the owner here," I'm not. "And I don't think you'd want the surveillance tape of you drugging a girl to see the light of day, would you now?"

As soon as I say the last sentence, something hits me.Drugging a girl...THE ROOFIE IS STILL IN ELYSE'S CUP. FUCK!!

I hastily unlock the stall and storm to the table.What the fuck? That was too careless of me.I take a sigh of relief when I get back to the table and see her seat empty. Thank god.

"Kasey?" I hear from behind.

I turn to see Elyse walking out of the women's washroom, beautiful as ever. She's wearing a grey crop top and a pair of blue jeans. Casuals. Hot. As she walks towards me, I notice her cadence to be a bit ragged. I look at the drugged drink—still full and unattended. "Surprised to see your brother at a freakin'Mac D?"

"But you hate it here." She knows me so well.

"Who knows, maybe I was stalking you?"

We both laugh. I love it like this. Just the two of us fooling around like idiots. What wouldn't I give for this to last forever?

But I notice something off again. Even in the laughter, her eyes seem somewhat heavy. What's wrong? Elyse stops laughing almost abruptly and rubs and squints her eyes, slowly at first, then chaotically. She looks around the place like she doesn't know where she is. I look at her knees, and they're shaking slightly.

"Kasey... why did they dim the lights so much? Ask someone to turn up the lights," Elyse says, blinking unusually.

What's she saying? The lights are fine.

Her body sways erratically, but she somehow composes her stature. She still isn't standing straight like usual. Did that fucker already drug her? But the drink is right there—

Aw fuck. He must've already given her one pill when I wasn't looking. And when he saw it wasn't working, he tried to dose her with another one.Fucking amateur!You have to waitat leasttwenty minutes for the drug to take effect.How fucking stupid can you be, you impatient piece of shit?!I regret leaving him breathing, but I've gotta quickly take Elyse home for now.

The car reaches home, and I hop out to open her door. She has nearly passed out on the seat. I put her arm around my neck and get her up. We reach the door, but it's locked.Ah, Miles and Anya's date night.

Elyse can't stay standing for long now, her body is almost as limp as a rag doll's. I ruffle my pockets to search for the spare key as her knees turn to jelly in a blink. I barely saved her from falling. This was risky.

I unlock the door quickly and cradle her in my arms. She's light. I can feel her soft body pressed close to mine. I carry her to her bedroom and lay her gently on the bed. She sleeps like a princess as I stand and take in the wickedly serene scenery. She looks so peaceful in her slumber. So pretty. So cute. So defenseless. So sexy—

The fuck am I thinking?I shake my head to ward off the weird thought.

I notice her grey top had ridden up a little, revealing her navel. I can't leave her like that, can I? I bend and my fingers grab the seam of her top and attempt to pull it down, but it's stuck under her body. As I try to jerk it free, the tip of my thumb kisses her stomach. It feels soft.I have to fix her top and leave, I command my brain.

My thumb again kisses against her stomach, a little deliberately this time, delving slightly into her supple flesh.I have tofixher top andleave.

Somehow, I find my hands shifting their grip from her top's seam to her naked waist.What exactly am I trying to do here?Elyse is still asleep. I would jump off a cliff right now if she was to wake up.

My eyes are fixated on her navel. It seems quaintly erotic. My hands slide down to the small of her back, and my arms instinctively wrap themselves around her abdomen.

This doesn't seem right.But the temptation is too much to handle.Should I really do something? She wouldn't even know, right? Aargh!I feel an anger brewing inside me, but don't even know what I'm angry at.

Will I spend the rest of my life in regret that I could've done something with her, but decided not to? Or will I spend the rest of my life in regret still, regardless of whether I actually do something to her or not?

I can't think straight. But will Ieverget a chance like this with Elyse again? I know the answer. And, however immoral it is, I decide to succumb to my desires.

I stick my tongue out and slowly bring it closer to her navel. It traces gentle yet hesitant circles around it. I taste sweat, lust, and desperation. My eyes look at Elyse's every few seconds—I am scared... and wickedly aroused.

I clearly should not be doing this, but my lips begin to grow impatient now, jealous of my tongue, maybe. They delicately start pecking the skin around her navel. Her softness against my wet lips is intoxicating. I kiss loudly now and run my tongue in the amorous crevice that is her navel. It is hot, slightly salty, but feels sweet regardless. I wriggle my tongue rampantly until a good part of the hollow is filled with my drool. I slurp my spit back from there and start again. I can feel my mind fading into a void.

Just then, her stomach twitches slightly beneath my mouth, barely a breathy flinch, but it momentarily pulls me out of the trance.

Maybe I heard a sigh—or was it a moan? I can't tell which, but it was something. A response.

I don't even know if she's awake... or if she's just lying still, letting it happen.

But this feels hot. Too hot. Though equally wrong... or does it? She was gonna get raped either way, right? Better me than that filth Brian.

No! What the fuck is going on in my head?! How am I any different from that asshole?

I'm different,waydifferent.I'mnot the one who drugged her. I love Elyse, I'll never do anything untoward to her. But I don't think I'll ever get a chance like this with hereveragain; maybe I might as well savor this moment to my heart's content?

So I'm gonna become a rapist now? Raping my own step-cousin—raping Miles' step-daughter—while she's drugged and defenseless?!

The idea does seem tempting, though. And maybe she's enjoying it too? Her body isn't completely still... she even twitched and moaned a little, didn't she? I'm sure she's just shy.

Have I actually lost my mind, or is it just my fiendish lust talking to me?

While my mind is a whirlwind of conflict, I'm still religiously licking her stomach and navel. I retrieve my hands from her back, breaking the hug, and they crawl towards her breasts. Her bra acts as a rather sensual barrier, but my hands deftly slide it up. My fingertips touch her breast, softly poking it. I try to contain myself, I'm fervent beyond belief. The breasts I've been yearningly looking at for so long... finally within my grasp.

I slowly cup her breasts in my hands. They fit almost perfectly; just a tad bit too big. Each of my fingers delves into her satin-like, tender flesh. I feel a surge of blood rushing to my crotch. My hands begin to knead her chest now, my dick twitching with every squeeze. I try to be as gentle as possible, but I'm well aware of what I really want.

Have to be gentle. That's the least I can do...

Hmm? Am I already comfortable with the fact that what I'm doing is nothing short of rape? Ah, fuck it.

I notice that my mouth is partly open, drooling, and my eyes fixated only on her nipples. I cup one of her tits with both of my hands now, squeeze it, and open my mouth as wide as humanly possible. In one swift lunge, I advance my mouth and feast on her tit; her areola was fairly big, and I shamelessly gobbled all of it. My face is stuffed so deep in her chest, I'm suffocating on my own exhale hitting my face. I'm just like a horny dog unleashed.

My tongue tickles her nipple repeatedly, confirming its firmness with each flick. Her nipple is definitely hard.Can she actually feel anything right now? Is she really feeling good?Because I know I am.

I lose all track of time and sanity as I alternate my mouth between both of her tits, serving them equally. My growing cock is cramped in my pants, daring to tear through the fabric.

I fleetingly take a glance at her face, she's drooling a bit. She doesn't look good with drool on her mouth. I try to rectify the issue by bringing my mouth close to hers and licking off her saliva. Her spit is cold, yet it feels unexpectedly hot. My dick finally gives in and pops a raging boner.

I don't think I can wait anymore.

I unbutton her jeans and throw them away. She's wearing a pair of black laced panties. I grab and yank them off her shapely legs. Her panties were oddly damp, though I don't toss them before taking a couple of deep sniffs first. The faint slit of her labia sneakily peeks at me. I spread her limp legs apart and take a look at the damp folds of her femininity. I am pleasantly taken aback by the sheer wetness of it as alluring ribbons of her juices trickle down from her pussy to her supple thighs. I'm tempted to lick it first, but my dick is too pent up, getting the better of me.

I finally unsheathe my cock and bring it scantily close to the wet paradise. The head of my cock flirts with her clitoris, oozing precum.

Am I actually going to do this?Come to think of it, how can this really be happening? When I woke up this morning, no amount of contemplation could have ever predicted I'd end up here.I mean, of course, I'm excited. But should this really be happening?

No matter how many baseless excuses I come up with, this is wrong. Heck, what will Elyse even think of me if she ever finds out? That her brother is a heinous fiend who preys on helpless girls while they're drugged? No. This isnotthe way to go... right?

I try to think rational thoughts, but they lose logic by the second as I look between her legs—her pussy is too inviting, and my cock too weak to resist the temptation. Aargh. Only if that dickhead Brian hadn't put the roofie in her drink. I shake my head and pull my pants up.

But would you ever have had a chance this beautiful with Elyse then?I hear in my head.

This is not me. It's the heavy Voice in my head that talks to me at times, wheneveritdeigns necessary.

Think, Kasey! No matter what you do for Elyse, no matter how nicely you treat Elyse, no matter whatever you sacrifice for Elyse... you'd never actuallygetElyse, would you? And you're completely aware of it, the Voice says to me in my head boldly, its tone inaudibly loud.

Listen, Kasey. And listen close. You're meant for great things. Far greater than this little predicament you think you have. And if you can not get those great things, what do you do? You snatch them by the fucking throat. And that is what you'll be doing tonight. Whatever has Elyse ever done for you anyways? How has she ever repaid your kindness, your love, your sheer devotion to her, huh? By going out with that dumbfuck Brian?

You see where I'm going with this, don't you? Whether she realizes this in her slumber or not,youneed to know who's the one who calls the shots tonight. There should only be one answer in your head—fuck Elyse. Literally.

Is my vision swirling? Or am I just seeing things more clearly? The words I just heard are too powerful. I look around the room, almost dumbfounded, like I don't recognize my own home. I shake my head, and all my thoughts seem to displace and align in one direction suddenly.

I'm scared of what I'm about to do. I'm afraid of the person I'm about to become. Most of all, I'm terrified of hurting Elyse. But that Voice inside me is far more terrifying. If I don't act, I can't even begin to fathom the repercussions of its wrath. And honestly, I can't shy away from the fact that some—every—part of me wants this too.

I look down at my cock, still hard and roaring to go. I take a deep breath, then put my hand to Elyse's cheek and mumble under a sigh, "I'm sorry if this hurts..."

My eyes grow wide, my body shivers, every strand of hair rises and tingles, and even my ears twitch as I enter her soaked and vulnerable pussy. The warmth, I had expected; the stifling grip, I had not. My head is barely inside, yet the urge to gush cum right now is alarming. Is it just the tightness or my feelings for her that brought me this close to finishing? Or maybe it is the morbid elation of playing god with her, doing whatever I desire, however I desire.