Ever since I've been old enough to have fetishes, I've had a sibling-incest fetish. I've also had a thing for voluptuous fat girls. These equipotent attractions, however, never intertwined: my own sister, Darien, is characteristically athletic—a far cry from the plump, curvaceous girls I love to love. Darien did have very large, indeed it would be almost an understatement to say "huge," breasts; but, in my view, even the biggest breasts need to be complemented by thick, soft thighs; a round, jiggly, squeezable belly; and cute, fat, part-me pussy lips. When I fantasized about incest, I invented chubby sisters. I never pictured Darien.
In fact, I didn't even see Darien for almost three years. I went to college in Oregon, she in Miami, Florida (our parents live in rural central Florida). I came home several times the first year I was away, and returned for Christmas the second year; but after that, I had kind of formed a new life for myself in Oregon, I always seemed to be busy, and I almost never made it home. Worse, on the two occasions when I did see the folks, Darien remained in Miami. And then, when I graduated, I started interning in graphic design—not the most glorious or lucrative work, but at least (I told myself) a stepping-stone to bigger and brighter things. Anyway, I'd fallen in love with the West Coast, so I planned to settle down for the foreseeable future in Portland.
But Darien was going into alternative energy (especially working to make solar panels more efficient), and sunny sunny Florida seemed to be the perfect place for that. Thus I was more than a little surprised when, one day, Darien called to tell me that she might be moving to Portland! "It's not definite," she said, "but the job looks okay, and the first interview went well. I'll be coming up in two weeks for the second one. If that works out... how's the weather?"
"Oh, you know," I said. "Bloody rain, brimstone. Swamp gas. Pools of mercury. Beautiful. No, seriously—I love it. You'll stay with me when you visit?"
"That depends. What's the nightly rate?"
"I'm sure we can work something out."
"Creepy, Derek. You do know you're a creep? Animate refuse. Quasi-sentient sludge."
"Stop; you'll make me blush! Fine, fine, free room and board—but keep that praise coming!"
"Could I ever insult you? You're much too loathsome."
"I miss you, too."
***
As soon as I met Darien at the Portland airport—well. Of course it was great to see her: before college, we'd always been quite close, and even since then we'd talked a fair bit on the phone. But the feeling I had now, um, surmounted that. You see, Miami had been rough on Darien. She was incurably hard working, and each year she'd been away she'd done part- or full-time jobs for cash, even while being a devoted, straight-A, full-time student. Besides which, if you've never been there, let me tell you that most of Miami is one big strip mall. Darien couldn't escape as easily as she'd have liked for runs or hikes or camping trips, and finally she'd stopped trying.
And this must have trigged a massive metabolic slowing-down, or something—because, to my shock, this new Darien was not athletic, not trim at all. To the contrary. She was fat. Voluptuous, plumper fat. Instead of the jeans or short skirts she used to wear, sweat pants hugged thighs that ground together when she walked, and her plump belly actually escaped the bottom of her tank top, hanging over her waistline like an olive-toned invitation to fuck. I could see her navel—or rather, the soft indentation of tummy-fat around her navel. And her tits... O Holy Saint Mammary, what words? Always enormous, they'd become fucking gigantic. Although checked by the mother of all bras, they hung well down her protruding tummy, and tit fat bulged in all directions, creating the sexiest, most stick-your-cock-between-it, fuck-it-like-a-pussy-and-cum-all-over-it cleavage you can imagine. But lest you get the wrong impression, I should stress that Darien was anything but shapeless. No indeed, no indeed—she was curvaceously, gorgeously feminine. Her newfound weight accentuated all the right places. So don't blame me if I admit that, when Darien jogged up to me, bouncing and heaving, and threw her soft arms around me, my erection slammed against my sister's crotch. Damn. By some black magic, my arch-fetishes had converged! My own little sister was a BBW wet dream—and, as I looked into those sweet, familiar dark eyes, those eyes I'd grown up seeing, I wanted nothing more than to rip off Darien's inadequate clothing, part her flabby thighs, and drive my cock into her plump wet pussy. God, I wanted incest. God, I was in trouble.
"You look great," I said. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you too, long-lost Bro," Darien replied, pulling away. "But don't tell me I look great. I own a mirror. My eyespots do function. I know the status quo. I'm working on it, but I don't want to talk about it now."
"No, I'm serious. You look... amazing, really. I completely mean it."
"Another topic, please? I haven't seen you in millennia! How's the leprosy?"
"Oh, pretty advanced. I expect my arm to drop off any minute. I see your cholera's reached new heights."
"You noticed! Aw! Yes; well, I am rather proud of that. Won the Blue Ribbon in the Miami Pestilence Parade...." And so the banter continued, with our characteristic off-color eccentricity. Even when she had been less sexy, Darien had always made my day. But as it was—I just needed to get home, immediately. Yeah. This wasn't fair.
When we arrived at my one-bedroom apartment, I gave the bed to Darien and took the living-room futon for myself. Then she went to take a shower, but reappeared after a moment complaining that the lock didn't work and the door wouldn't fully close.
"Sorry," I said, "but there's a perfectly good reason for that. It starts with an 'in' and it ends with a 'tern.'"
Darien curled her upper lip aristocratically. "Ah, commoner," she sniffed. "How vain, to seek your fortune in computers! A fool's bubble! A sure dead end! No; you should have done as I. Fuel cells! Commercial algae batteries! Instant bullion. Wind turbines—"
But at this point, interrupted by tickling, Darien broke off, shrieking. She dropped to the floor, her whole body shaking, and I threw myself beside her, tickling her feet, her sides (and, "accidentally," the sides of her huge tits), the back of her neck. Her shirt rode up, and her voluptuous belly appeared—prompting a full-frontal tickle attack. She was still laughing when she escaped and retreated to the bathroom, broken door and all. She was laughing, and my dick was rock hard. I listened for the shower-water before sneaking up to watch her through the crack.
Of course I masturbated. The gauzy shower curtain was too small to close completely (the more I praise you, Lady Poverty), and one of Darien's huge tits, freed to hang down to her navel area, was on full display—as well as one fat leg and, sometimes, tantalizing hints of sister-pussy. I imagined throwing back the door, flinging the shower-curtain fully open, and mounting Darien's thick body. I would pin her arms to the wall, and she would mock-protest, pretending she didn't want it. I'd ignore her, bite her lip, and pound harder. She'd— I came, hard. Darien was going to be with me for a week. How wasn't I to rape her?
***
I'm proud to say that I stayed sweet and innocent for two whole days. But the third day was Saturday, and that meant no work for me. I got to hang out with—and I had to resist fucking—my sister all weekend. Or, if I was horrible, I could seek the opposite. Hmm, choices.
And several factors promoted would-be sin. First, Darien had been exploring Portland on her own since Thursday, was tired of it, and had grown much more interested in the looming mountains. Second, I immediately realized where in the mountains I should take her. And third, it was raining.
Why would rain be good? "Because," I told Darien, "It's summer, so it won't be too cold. But the rain keeps the tourists away, and it brings the mist out. Beautiful, thick, shimmering mist—you'll never forget it. Bear with me! Never mind the mudslides! What's a slight risk of death for a few splendid seconds?"
"If I didn't actually agree with that, I'd complain," she replied. "But as it is—yes! Let's do it, rain and all! Come rain, come hail, come locust-plagues! I'm sooo ready to get out of cities! I thumb my nose at mudslides!"
