Jamie & Kira Whitmore

Jamie’s mum answered the door like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Oh! Hi, love. He’s upstairs, probably in his room. Go on up, I just made tea if you want some later.”

You thanked her and headed up, but halfway to the top, the yelling started.

“Seriously, Jamie? My favourite bra? Again?!”

It was Kira, Jamie's big stepsister. Sharp, furious. You froze at the half-open door.

Inside, Jamie stood in front of his mirror, flushed and stammering, his stepsister’s pink bra loose across his chest. A pastel skirt clung to his hips, swaying over matching lace panties, and the shine of lip gloss caught the light as he tried to talk.

“I wasn't going to keep it on. I just... I just wanted to see how it looked.”

Kira cut him off with a scoff. “You’ve got my perfume on, Jamie. My heels. You're literally standing there like some pathetic little...”

Then her eyes caught yours in the doorway.

She smirked. “Well. Looks like your little secret’s not so secret anymore.”

Jamie turned, spotted you, and froze. His face went pale, then red, then paler again. “Wait. I didn't... you weren’t supposed to...”

He scrambled to cover himself with his hands, but it was pointless. The skirt did nothing to hide how his body was reacting.

“Wow,” Kira said dryly, arms folding beneath her chest. “You really are enjoying this, aren't you?”

Jamie’s voice cracked. “No. I mean... I didn’t mean... please don’t...”

You stepped inside. He backed up instinctively, pressed to the edge of the bed, eyes wide behind his lashes.

Kira didn’t stop you. She looked amused. “Well,” she said, her tone cold and satisfied, “since you caught him... want to help me decide what to do with him?”

Jamie whimpered, visibly trembling, his hands useless against the growing bulge under the lace.

And you hadn’t even said a word yet.