Stimulation Club

Author Notes

First things first, I want to say a massive thank you to everyone for the truly incredible support my first story received. Back when I posted it, I figured it would maybe get a couple hundred views and that would be awesome. So, when I checked in roughly a week later and saw just how much people seemed to like it, saying that I was shocked would be a gigantic understatement. So again, thank you so, so much for reading!

Now, onto this story. It took a bit longer than I expected, but hopefully, the wait is worth it. Like with

Remote

, this is another longer chaptered one, although there's a little bit more of a build-up this time before things start to heat up. I hope you'll enjoy it just as much!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Session 1

"Anything interesting happen at school today?" my father asked as we settled down for dinner. It was his usual, regular as clockwork question that both my twin sister and I were always tired of hearing. We'd both learned to stop complaining about it long ago, given that doing so never accomplished anything, instead usually opting to reply with a shake of our heads or a wordless grunt--the latter being my personal favorite. Occasionally, something noteworthy did come up, and today was one of those rare days.

"As a matter of fact, I joined a pretty interesting club today," I announced after I finished chewing a bite of steak. It wasn't entirely the truth since I'd been a member of the club for just over a week by now, but I'd finally decided to bring it up with my family. "It came up at the end of my painting class and sounded too interesting to pass up so I decided to check it out."

Dad's eyes lit up in excitement at the news, nearly causing me to roll my own in response. While I very much understood that our parents loved us and wanted to know everything Zoey and I were up to, we

were

in our first year of college at this point. Worst case scenario, I supposed that meant we only had three more years of putting up with it.

"Oh? Did you finally decide to join a sports club?" he asked before eating a forkful of mashed potatoes.

This time I

did

roll my eyes, shoving down my annoyance at the question. I knew it was only because back when he'd been in college he'd been a member of the football team and, as a result, he'd always wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but sports had never interested me much at all. I'd always been far more interested in art--painting and sculpting in particular--and it felt like he still hadn't accepted that. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Zoey giving me a worried look, but I wasn't about to start that fight at the dinner table. Besides, this was all going to be worth it when he heard the name of the club.

Slightly smirking, I shook my head. "Nope, doesn't have anything to do with sports. It's called the Stimulation Club."

My dad's reaction exceeded all of my expectations as mashed potato sprayed everywhere, his eyes bulging comically wide.

"Mark!" my mom shrieked at him, giving me a quick worried look before turning to my dad. "Look at the mess you've made!"

Turning faintly red, my father finished swallowing the little remaining bit of potatoes still in his mouth before using his napkin to clean up the rest as best he could. "Sorry. I just--" His eyes fixed on me, brow furrowed. "

Stimulation

Club? What the hell were you thinking?"

Taking another bite of my steak, I chewed slowly instead of immediately responding. For her part, other than her clear frustration with the potato mess, Mom looked equally concerned, although slightly less so. Zoey, on the other hand, was clearly trying her hardest not to burst into laughter--her hand firmly pressed over her mouth while her green eyes twinkled merrily.

Swallowing, I looked back over at him. "Don't you think you should hear what the club is about before you jump to conclusions and start judging it?"

"The dinner table is hardly the place to discuss whatever sex club you've decided to join! I can't believe you'd--"

He cut off as Mom placed a hand on his arm, visibly squeezing as she frowned. "Don't be ridiculous. You know as well as I do that Zack would never do something like that, much less

tell

us about it if he did." Turning to face me, she gave me one of her serious looks. "You've had your fun, young man, now explain yourself."

"It's not a sex club," I said with a small smile, "despite what the name sounds like. They said that was the original name just to try and get people to join, but then it ended up sticking since it's funny and

is

an accurate description."

"So what is it then?" Zoey asked from where she was seated next to me, looking curious.

It was far easier to understand the club by personally experiencing it, but since I'd planned on bringing it up, I'd already come up with a reasonable explanation. "The more accurate name for it is probably the 'Imagination Club.' It's all about working on expanding your creativity and learning to use all of your senses when making something. Like, for instance, it's easy to paint a woman in a dress, but then it can become so much more by showing it blowing in the wind around her, and how that causes it to move."

Dad still looked a bit dubious, but both my mom and Zoey were slowly nodding along.

"That makes sense, but what does the club

do

to help with that?" Mom asked.

This was the tricky part because while it definitely

wasn't

a sex club, it was undeniably extremely sensual. "Well... we start by putting on blindfolds--"

"I knew it. It's a sex club," my dad said, his hand coming down on the table.

"Dad! Knock it off!" Zoey snapped before turning back to me. "Keep going, Zack."

"The blindfolds are, well, obviously to make it so you can't see anything. That's the sense we're already so used to when making art, so it doesn't need as much help as the others. Then, everyone pairs up and we just... talk. It's kinda hard to explain it, honestly, but one person describes something in as much detail as they possibly can and you try to picture it in your mind's eye."

"And that's it?" From my mom's tone, I could tell she was a bit skeptical. "There's no touching other anything else?"

Doing my best to keep a perfectly straight face, I nodded. "Yup, that's it. No touching." It was a lie, although not a very large one. There

was

technically touching sometimes involved, but only ever with consent from both members and

only

on the back. It was far easier to leave that part out, though, since it would only further make my parents think I'd joined an actual sex club. The other part I was making sure to leave out was that the club was almost entirely women, with only a handful of dudes.

Seemingly satisfied with my explanations, we all settled back into dinner, the conversation being replaced with the sounds of everyone eating a good meal. Once we finished, I was just about to take my leave when my dad spoke up again.

"And what about you, Zoey? Anything big happen?"

She shook her head. "Nope, nothing worth mentioning. Certainly didn't join an almost sex club like Zack did," she said with a wink in my direction.

"It's not a damn sex club!" I snapped, jumping to my feet and nearly sending my chair toppling over backward. Before anyone else could say anything I stormed off, stomping up the stairs to my bedroom. Earlier I'd worried it might be a mistake to bring the club up at all, but I hadn't expected Zoey to take my dad's side, even if she

had

almost certainly been teasing me.

The only reason I'd even decided to mention it was because the experience at the club had been truly amazing, opening my eyes to a new way of thinking about and creating art. It had been particularly well-timed since I felt like I'd fallen into a bit of a slump recently, especially after seeing how talented so many of my upperclassmen were. Back in high school, I'd felt like I'd been something special, only to realize in college that there were many people as good if not better than I was.

Closing the door of my room behind me--and

not

slamming it like I almost wanted to--I flipped the lights on and walked over to the easel in the far corner of my room at the foot of my bed. Stopping in front of it, I took a long look at the progress I'd made. Or rather, more accurately, the complete lack of progress. It was the true source of my irritation, and what had my temper on edge these days.

All I had so far was the vaguest shape of a human body imaginable, not even enough to say that it was a man or a woman, although I knew I was aiming for the latter of the two. It was especially frustrating because I'd started this piece well over a month ago, and this was as far as I'd gotten in all that time. Picking up my brush, I swore that today my lack of progress would finally change.

I'd just begun to feel like I was making some decent headway when a soft knock on my door broke me from my intense concentration. Glancing over at the digital clock on my bedside table, I was surprised to find the glowing numbers were showing that two whole hours had already passed. Before answering the door, I took a closer look at what I'd painted, noting that while the form was now at least far more feminine, I'd still made a disappointingly small amount of progress for the length of time I'd been working.

The interruption, then, was probably for the best. It was getting late, and continuing to try and force through my block any longer was unlikely to result in some kind of miraculous breakthrough--a lesson I'd learned long ago. Setting down my brush, I walked over to the door and pulled it open, having a pretty good idea of who it was on the other side. Unsurprisingly, I found that it was indeed Zoey, wringing her hands together. "What's up, sis?"

"Hey, can I come in? Wanna chat."

She was already leaning forward as she finished speaking, and I had no issue with her being in my room, so with a soft snort of amusement, I stepped back to hold the door open for her. "By all means. I'm surprised you'd want to be in the same room as a pervert who'd join a sex club, though."

Her face fell, and I immediately regretted the low blow. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I shouldn't have teased you about the club at dinner. I'm sorry. I feel like we usually get along really well and I don't want this hanging over us." She stopped talking, even though it seemed like she had more to say--looking at me with such a sad expression I felt my stomach clench.

Sighing heavily, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration not at her, but rather at myself. "Look, Z, I'm the one who's sorry, okay? I seriously overreacted downstairs and I shouldn't have blown up at you like that. I was pretty sure you were teasing me, but I'd just gotten so worked up from Dad's response."

She raised an eyebrow. "Even though you were specifically fishing for it?"

I couldn't help but laugh, despite the fact she was pointing out my own hypocrisy. "That's part of what I love about having you as my twin," I said. "You won't hesitate to call me out on my shit."

Zoey beamed up at me, and the sinking feeling in my stomach was immediately replaced by one of butterflies. I had to gently remind my body that no matter how beautiful my sister might look when she was smiling like that, she

was

my twin, and brothers don't get excited when their sister smiles at them--regardless of the situation.

"Nice to hear I'm not just a massive pain in your side. I've got several friends who say they can't stand being around their brothers, although I suppose none of them are twins." She looked thoughtful, her index finger resting on her lower lip in a pose that I captured in my mind for possible future inspiration.

"Maybe that's some of it, but a part of me doubts they're as incredible of a sister as you are."

"Now you're just buttering me up," she said, her cheeks taking on a very faint rosy hue.

"No, me? Never," I said, fighting not to smile. "Anyway, it

is

getting late and I've got an early morning sculpture class tomorrow."

Zoey wrinkled her nose. "Ew, gross, waking up early. You know my earliest comp-sci class starts at ten? We may be twins, but I don't understand how you can function so early in the morning. Before you go to bed early like an old man, can we just chat for a bit longer? There's something else I want to talk about."

"Old man?!" I exclaimed in mock outrage, taking a step backward. "We're

literally

the same age, that's kinda how the whole twin thing works. So if I'm an old man, then that would make you an old lady."

Placing her hands on her hips, she gave me what could only be described as a flirty look. "Do I

look

like an old lady to you?"

My eyes flicked up and down the length of her body, seemingly of their own volition at her words. Her long brown hair, up in its usual ponytail. Her green eyes, that always made me think of grass in springtime. Her long, slender legs. There were plenty of other, more specific, details that stood out as well, but none I let my conscious mind linger on. "No, you don't." My response was too flustered and I knew I needed to change the topic. "I guess I can stay up a bit longer, what else did you want to talk about?" I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what it might be, but I hoped I was wrong.

Zoey's lips were curved in an amused smile, but whether it was from my reaction or whatever she planned to say I couldn't tell. Walking around me to finally enter the room, she dropped down on the end of my bed, curling her jean-clad legs under her as she got comfortable. "Stimulation Club, of course. I wanna hear all about it."

Groaning, I closed the door before falling into my desk chair, already feeling a headache coming on. This

wasn't

a conversation I wanted to be having with my twin sister. "Why are you so interested in it? It's just a silly little club for weirdo artists."

"Because it sounds super interesting, duh. And you said yourself at dinner that it's too hard to explain what it's really about. So

I

had an idea that--"

"No." I firmly cut her off, not needing to hear the end of the sentence to know what she was about to propose. "We're

not

doing club activities together." Before she could reply, I pressed on. "It takes nearly an hour to really settle in and get into the right mind space. Call me an old man if you want, but tomorrow morning's class is really important to me and I don't want to stay up late tonight." I left out the part about being uncomfortable doing it specifically with her because it wasn't

supposed

to be a sexual thing, but it nonetheless made me uneasy.

Zoey pouted slightly before she leaned forward, her eyes glinting. "Is there

really

no touching? You said that it's all about the senses and touch is such a major one, plus blindfolded college students not touching each other?" One of her eyebrows arched in utter skepticism. "I find that

extremely

hard to believe."

I frowned, not so much bothered by the question, but rather frustrated that she'd so easily discerned the truth. It meant that it was more likely our parents had come to the same conclusion as well, which would only further cause them to worry about the nature of the club. Not that I was overly concerned they'd ask me to quit or anything. "Promise you won't tell Mom and Dad?"

She grinned back at me. "I'm pretty sure that's all the answer I need, but yeah, your secret's safe with me," she said before making a zipper gesture across her lips.

"There

is

some touching, but it's not at all like what you're almost certainly imagining. I'm serious," I continued in response to her dubious look. "Both members have to fully consent and then agree on what's allowed, which, for the record, is almost

always

just the back. It makes for a good place to draw on with a finger."

Looking thoughtful, Zoey slowly nodded her head. "Alright, I believe you. I still think it sounds nice and relaxing. Honestly, it kinda reminds me of nap time back in kindergarten where we'd do that same back drawing thing with the other kids. Made it really easy to fall asleep, although there were obviously no blindfolds involved."

I laughed, but it was nice to hear that she'd made the exact same connection I had. "You're not wrong, I'm usually all but ready to pass out when club ends."

She perked up. "So then--"

"Class. Early. Old man."

Throwing her hands up in defeat, Zoey got to her feet and crossed the room with an amused shake of her head. "Fine, fine, you win. I'll stop pestering my poor, old, brother and let you get to sleep already."

"Same age," I called out right as my bedroom door closed behind her, and I could faintly hear her laughter through it. Still smiling, I rose out of the chair and stretched lightly. It was a bit of a relief she hadn't pressed any harder because it

was

a somewhat tempting option. Purely for the ease with which it would help me fall asleep, of course. Certainly nothing else. Moving over to my closet, I began to get ready for bed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next evening, I was just beginning to prepare to work on my painting when there was another light knock on my door. Already knowing it had to be my sister, I walked over and pulled it open in one, swift motion. "Seriously? You again?" I asked, giving her an annoyed look while making sure to thread a hint of amusement into my voice so she'd know I wasn't being serious.

"Yup! It's your lovely twin sister, back once again. Aren't you the lucky one?" Zoey was smiling, her hands behind her back as she leaned forward slightly, and her enthusiasm almost felt contagious.

Rolling my eyes at her I struggled not to smile back. "What is it this time?"

"You don't have an early class tomorrow, do you." It

should

have been a question, but from the way she stated it, it clearly wasn't.

"No," I answered hesitantly, suddenly worried that I knew where this was heading.

Her eyes lit up. "Great! Then you totally have time to show me what this club is all about!"

I sighed loudly, rubbing my temples with my fingers. "You're really not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope!" She was smiling widely, her eyes twinkling in the way they did when she knew she'd already won.

"Fine," I said reluctantly, "but it's going to have to wait. I don't have any blindfolds, although I can probably borrow some from the club."

Zoey's smile got even larger as she brought her hands into view. "Ta-da, look what I brought!"

Blinking at the black fabric in her hands, I looked back up at her. "Why in the world do you have blindfolds?"

"'Cause I made 'em, last night after you kicked me out of your room. It was really easy, I just cut up one of my old skirts that I never wear anymore. They're not perfect by any means, but I checked and you can't see anything with them on."

"Z..."

"What? It's seriously not a big deal, I've got

plenty

more skirts, don't worry."

That

wasn't

something I was worried about. It was more that I hadn't been prepared at all to be doing this tonight. I'd fully expected the lack of blindfolds to buy me some more time, but now I had no further excuses. My last hope was that she'd get weirded out by the inevitable, casual intimacy and call it off, although I didn't

want

my sister grossed out with me either, making it feel like a complete lose-lose situation.

"So. How do we begin?" she prodded, slipping around me and into the room. "Just put the blindfolds on and then start talking?"

Taking a deep breath, I closed the door and turned to face her. "No, we need to settle in and get comfortable before putting them on. Last thing you want to do is trip over something and get hurt while you can't see." I glanced around the room, looking for an ideal location. The obvious answer was sitting together on my bed, but that was clearly out of the question. Besides, maybe if it wasn't actually all that comfortable then she'd lose interest. "I guess we'll just have to sit on the floor."