That event faded farther from my memory as it became more common. Each day, my brother would serve as my toilet whenever I needed him. He came to enjoy the taste of my diarrhoea and urine, and after a few days it was all he wanted to eat. Even once my stomach bug passed, he still greedily devoured my shit like it was chocolate.
Of course, he also continued his tireless worship of my ass, farts, feet and armpits every weekday after I returned from work. Then, on the weekends, he spent almost all of his time beneath my ass, savouring the many tastes and smells that he found there.
It was during one of his particularly passionate make out sessions with my asshole that the last lingering remnants of doubt in my mind disappeared. I knew my brother enjoyed it. I knew he loved me, more than just as his sister. And though I tried to shake away the lewd thoughts forming in my head, I could no longer deny that I felt the same.
"Morning, Sis," came the cheerful greeting as my brother emerged from beneath the bedsheets just as I emerged from my slumber.
My brothers passion for me had began to show itself more clearly since he first acted as my toilet, and one of the ways it did this was by urging him to spend progressively longer periods of time eating my ass each night. By now, it had become an unspoken rule that he would not leave my bed until I did.
I smiled warmly at him and pressed my finger lightly against his nose for a moment.
"Seems like you enjoyed yourself again last night."
His face turned red at this comment, but his smile did not fade like it used to. I slowly lifted my feet from under the cover and raised them to his face as he eagerly began cleaning the remains of his own juices off of them.
Seemingly, my previous advice had gotten through to him, as it was now very common for me to awaken to find my brother's tongue removing a thin coating of cum on my feet. However, the initial feelings of confusion and arousal I once felt while watching him had now been replaced by frustration.
The only coherent thought I could conjure while observing him that Saturday morning was how much I wanted him to relieve himself somewhere else. Somewhere tighter and damper. Somewhere he had never been before.
Before I could collect myself and voice these desires, his tongue slid softly from between my toes and fell back into his mouth.
"Alright, time for your breakfast," he suddenly announced, scurrying off from the bed and marching down the staircase.
Despite my initial concern, he had made a habit out of only cooking food for me. He no longer desired actual food, and insisted that the food he cooks for me is enough to feed him too. Still, I wanted to make sure he still ate something, so I began involving food in his daily worship.
I had, however, agreed to letting him get away with skipping breakfast. I'd like to think that this was a decision I had made because I still secretly wanted him to eat my shit primarily, but the main reason for this compromise was the fact that he refused to accept any food I tried to feed him unless I granted his wish.
With this in mind, I rose from the bed and stepped out onto the floor, immediately making my bare feet dirty due to the saliva left on them, which acted as an adhesive of sorts and collected dust and filth. This wetness was also covering my asshole, which was significantly cleaner than my feet due to my brother's restless worship.
It came as no surprise when I descended from the stairs to see my brother gathering as many gassy foods as he could from the kitchen and arranging them hastily by the oven. I no longer had a problem with this. After all, if his breakfast was to be the remains of my own, it only made sense to eat a lot.
I made my way into the living room to collect my thoughts while he set about making breakfast. I knew I had to talk to him about his feelings, as well as my own. Yet I found myself unusually hesitant while mentally debating how to do.
"Food's on," he cheered as he entered the room, waking me from my dazed state.
I didn't bother asking what he was preparing, since I already new it would be something filled with fibre and strong smells.
"How long will it be, do you think," I asked, wondering if there was enough time for a little extra fun.
"Twenty minutes, at least," came the sly reply, as an equally sly smirk began forming on his lips.
I beckoned him towards me with my index finger as my body began to relax on the chair. It wasn't hard for me to think of something for him to do. The complete lack of showers for the past few days had served to enhance the allure of my most powerful areas, and though my asshole was clean for the time being, the same could not be said for my armpits.
He excitedly skipped towards me and knelt at the base of the chair, looking up at me with pleading eyes. His face lit up immediately as I raised my right arm and pointed to my pit with the other hand.
In a matter of seconds, his nose was buried deep in my armpit, sucking up as much of its pungent perfume as it possibly could. Meanwhile, his tongue swung back and forth at the bottom of my pit, catching the droplets of sweat that ran down my arm.
Once he was satisfied with the smells be had breathed in, his tongue replaced his nose in the core of my armpit as he began greedily cleaning it. I could see a peak in his boxers grow ever higher as he licked, eventually standing at full mast as he finished the right pit and moved quickly to the left one.
The liquid that began to form on the material was nothing in comparison to the liquid now leaking from my pussy. I clenched my legs together tightly in hopes of shielding my excitement, only to realise he was too distracted to spare as much as a glance.
The time passed much faster than either of us would have liked, and he eventually pried himself away from me as he hurried back to the kitchen. The noises of clattering pans and plates drifted off into the background as my mind continued to ponder my feelings.
"Here you go, Sis," he happily remarked as he placed a plate of food before me.
I must have been deep in thought, as I had not even noticed he had entered the room until then. I quickly regained my composure and directed my attention to the mountain of beans that lay on my plate. I could just barely make out the crusts of some toast beneath the beans, and there were two boiled eggs on either side of the plate.
"Right," I began, "I guess it's time for me to do some cooking of my own!"
He grinned widely upon hearing this, and immediately darted beneath the table. He knew it would take some time for his meal to be ready, so he chose to occupy himself with my feet once again. He looked up at me, receiving a simple nod in response, before hastily sticking my toes into his mouth and cleaning them for the second time that morning.
