Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
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Inspired by an online writing prompt.
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The clock stroke midnight. Christmas morning officially began, and a young man by the name of Jason and his twin Mason officially reached eighteen years of life.
But there was still time before the sun rose and their parent's return from visiting relatives upstate. So the twins simply lay in their beds, eyes wide and imagination rampant... as far as Jason was concerned.
Both boys were attractive young things. In fact, they shared a variety of usually feminine features. Wide hips and taught round rumps under thinner waists and flat chests. Bright burning ginger hair that shimmered in what little moonlight peered through the cloudy midnight sky.
What set them apart was how the brothers carried themselves.
"You think Santa will show up this year, Mason?" Jason inquired, clutching his neatly equipped plaid button up pajamas. His flaming red hair was neat, lengthy and cascaded over his shoulders.
"We're not kids anymore, Jason. Well you might be, I'm not." Mason scoffed, shuffling out of bed with an irritated frown. His hair was shorter, but messier just like the tank top and boxers he slept in.
"We're only a minute apart. Its... 12:04, so were definitely both eighteen. You're just a jerk." Jason rose from his bed and patted the sheets until it was made neat and uniform.
"And you're an idiot. Everyone knows Santa is just a ploy to trick people into buying shit for their kids so that these big toy companies can..."
Jason pouted with his cute round cheek and tuned out the latest of his pessimistic brother's political diatribes. 'He doesn't see the magic behind this joyous holiday', Jason thought. Sure he has a point, but behind all the consumerism, there's a spirit to this holiday. A message that Jason sees, and Mason is just too negative to witness.
The well groomed Jason sat over at his computer desk and grabbed his phone. He opened up a Santa tracker application, and his round face lit up with just as much hope as LCD light.
Mason flicked his head softly, tossing aside ginger bangs that dangled over his eyes. His brother was a true patsy. Even though Halloween was a obvious scheme for both the candy and dental companies to make bank, he dressed up and trick-or-treated every year. The same with Easter, Thanksgiving and now Christmas. Mason couldn't believe he had such a gullible brother.
Mason trudged over to his own desk and drew out his own phone. Small doots and dings rang from his phone, as he was texting a friend of his. A small smirk on his face as he read through the words.
"I'm going out." Mason proclaimed as he sauntered over to his dresser. He reached behind it and pulled out a hanger with some rather revealing underwear resting upon its plastic.
"What? Its midnight right now! You can't just waltz around in the middle of the night by yourself!"
With no warnings, Mason tore off his sleeping clothes and slipped into the underwear he had hidden behind the dresser. The pink lacy fabric was loose around his chest, yet its lower piece struggled to hold his bulge. The fabric of the thing was so thin that it couldn't hide the sides of his little prick and shaven coin purse.
"Where did you get that? Did you steal that from mom?" Jason averted his eyes. What an upsetting sight to see his own brother in his mother's lingerie.
"She'll get it back tomorrow... or the day after." Mason smirked as short jeans and a turtleneck sweater covered him up a bit. He grabbed his handbag and sauntered out the door.
Jason followed him down the stairs, frantically trying to talk him out of it.
"Mason! Its super dangerous out this late! Who are you even meeting?"
"None of your fucking business, fucking nerd!" Mason headed for the door in a pair of black boots and nabbed a set of keys.
"You know, a 'fricking nerd' is not a nice thing to call your brother." A soothing voice penetrates the darkness of the house.
Jason and Mason both stared into the living room.
"We know, you didn't say 'fricking', you said the f-word. But obviously, we can't say it. That's a naughty word." A voice with a pitch slightly higher, slightly more abrasive and masculine.
A figure sits upon a lounge chair, the sound of munching and a lightly sloshing glass in between their sentences.
A sudden pair of claps, and the living room light flash on. The mysterious origin of the voice was revealed.
In actuality, it was a pair of people. A short, effeminate male with a Santa hat atop his wavy windswept hair. His bangs completely obscured his eyes, but his cheeks were rosy and red. He was dressed in nothing but a g-string thong adorned with a mistletoe and candy-cane colored thigh-high socks.
He sat atop a beautiful young woman, hair just as white and gracefully unkempt as the locks of the girlish nudist male sitting in her lap. Her one uncovered eye had a soft, relaxed almond shape with a warm scarlet iris. Her massive breasts sloped and rested upon the man's exposed chest. They were just barely contained by a festive sweater with the deepest of v-necks.
Jason and Mason simply stared on, the absurdity of the situation freezing their brains. Who are these festive season strippers and what are they doing in their house? Both Mason and Jason suddenly ran into the other room, tearing their phones from their pockets in a desperate attempt to dial the authorities.
A smack rang out as they both suddenly bumped right into the gigantic chest of the woman in the promiscuous sweater. She wrapped her arms around them and hugged them close. "Shhh... hush darlings. We aren't going to hurt you." She assured them, despite her head-sized melons almost suffocating the poor twins.
"What do you want from us, you freaks?" Mason yelled, struggling within their grasp. "Let us go or I'll kick your ass!" Mason panicked, thrashing about.
