Author’s Note: Call me crazy, but this is my attempt at a modern erotic/romantic fairy tale. Its content spans many categories in literature. But based on the overall theme, I think fantasy/science fiction is best. The story is a slow and romantic lesbian tale, and more importantly for some people (love it or hate it), it’s full-blown sister incest.
There will be plenty of sex when it gets there, but if your particular needs are more intense, I suggest you address them before coming back here. This is not a quick fix.
Please read on, and as always, let me know what you thought by the time you get to the end.
No, I didn’t forget: everyone is eighteen or older. Promise.
The Macallan promise: Young Molly can control time, but not her longing for her sister
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
We swear to you, Breed, for what we got. Together, as mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts, nieces, wives and widows, we swear to defend the land and people of Ireland from our enemies. Wherever shelter is needed, we provide it. Wherever aid is needed, we provide it. Wherever revenge is needed, we take it. As long as there is breath in our chests, we swear. We swear together.
— Maid and housekeeper of the Macallan family, c. AD 720 (translation of the first verse, other verses missing)
~*~*~Episode 01–15 years ago~*~*~
This would be a horrific accident, the kind that would cause evening news anchors to refrain from covering the incident out of polite respect for the families of the victims. A yellow bus filled with elementary school children was traveling down a winding mountain road in northern Maine, a propane tanker truck was coming from the other direction, and the driver swerved sharply while struggling to control the truck on the icy road.
All of this happens in terrifying slow motion.
But we are safe. Or it should be.
My mom, sister Tabitha and I were driving on an isolated road with a path above it that gave us a clear view of what was going to happen below, out of harm’s way. Everything changed when my mom saw what I had already seen.
She slammed the brakes on our trusty old Datsun and looked at me. Her eyes were greener than the Irish hills in midsummer. She had never looked so beautiful.
I know what she wants to do. “No, Mom! It’s too far!”
He nodded. She knew it too. “I love you, Molly. Promise me you’ll take good care of Tabitha.”
As the first hot tears streamed down my face, because I knew what was about to happen, I uttered the most powerful vows I have ever seen. Just a week ago, my grandmother taught me the beginning. I practiced it so well that even old Gaelic came out of my young lips.
“I promise from the depths of my heart, every beat, every tide, every current and everything that is and will be within me,” I swallowed, feeling the magic gather and tighten in my chest, “I will take care of Tabby.
It’s an ancient promise, a powerful promise, and before I could say it my mother’s eyes widened. She smiled proudly and stroked my wet cheek. Then she jumped out of the car without looking back.
To save the kids on the bus. Other people’s kids. But still kept it as his own.
Let’s be honest, it’s usually one of the kids who catches us.
Mom did what she had to do, what she had always forbidden me to do, and when it was all over, everyone down the street was a little confused, but perfectly safe and sound. Except Mom.
I was 10 years old. I could barely reach the pedals of the Datsun, but I drove my six-year-old sister, Tabitha, home. On the way I tried to explain to her that even our wonderful mother could not recover from what happened. When we got home I had to tell Dad that she was a widow.
So, basically, being a Macallan girl sucks. But it always has. Well, for the last thirteen centuries, anyway.
~*~*~ Part 02–Now~*~*~
The vow I made to my mother in the car fifteen years ago is called the promise of the heart. In Macallan’s life, there was only one person to give to, really give to . Even in our strange family, it was a powerful thing. That’s why Mom was so surprised when I made the vow.
Macaron could not reverse or break the promise of his heart. Even if we wanted to. It is binding. It guides. It takes the helm. I have vowed that as long as I live, I will be its servant. So the vow I swore in the car that day was everything my mother had asked for and more.
In English, my promise that day went something like this: “I promise with all my heart that with every beat, every ebb, every flow, with everything I have now and everything I will ever have, I will protect Tabby.”
It was a big commitment, especially for a ten-year-old, but I never regretted promising my heart to my sister. Not just once.
I was nearly awake one night, reminiscing about the day in the car, when I felt a familiar weight on the bed behind me. I knew who it was as soon as she walked through the front door twenty minutes ago. My sister always follows their lead.’ Her voice was a bit buffoonish for a girl of petite stature.
“Hi, Tabby,” I whispered into the pillow, glancing at the alarm clock with one eye. It was about 4 a.m. She’d used a key to break into my one-bedroom apartment in the early hours of the morning. It was no big deal, she knew she could break in whenever she wanted.
“Hey,” his sister’s giggle completely distracted him, “no one was sneaking up on you, was they? What if I was a rapist? Would you have just laid in bed quietly waiting to be ruined?”
“A rapist wouldn’t use my shower first, genius.”
“Haha, I could have been a very promiscuous rapist.”
I smile darkly. My sister has always been fun. “I doubt they’re very rare.”
I felt her hands searching the bed and finally stopping on my hips. She suddenly came towards me.
“Can’t I be your boyfriend and sneak out and have fun with you in the middle of the night?”
It’s been a few months since my younger sister and I last spoke, and she has become intrusive about my personal life.
I complained: “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore.”
“Gross. Girlfriend?” Her second question sounded almost promising, her hips bucking against mine until we were tangled. Her thighs were bare, and the coolness of her skin touching the bare backs of my legs made me shiver.
“No, you don’t even have a girlfriend. That’s your business, not mine, kid.”
“You can have one if you want. I mean, a girlfriend. You’re smart and handsome. I’m sure you could find an attractive, talented girl without much trouble. Who could make you serious…”
“Tabitha,” I interrupted. “I’m fine, sis. Really.” It was too late for her old logic. My bisexual siblings are convinced that the average older straight woman is either ill-informed or narrow-minded. To her, I was both.
I felt his cool, exposed skin press harder against the parts of my back that weren’t covered by my cozy little shirt, and I took a deep breath. “Are you…Tabby, are you naked, love?”
“No.” He hugged me tightly and put his hands on my waist.
“What are you wearing?”
“Pants,” she admitted.
“Yeah, that’s pretty close to qualifying as nudity.”
Tabby laughed. “Don’t be so cocky, sis. All my stuff is dirty and I don’t want to go through your pajama drawer without asking. Besides, you know it’s hot in here.”
I let out a slow breath, not wanting to fight. I’m getting sleepy. “Okay… Tubbs, maybe you can stop messing with me?”
“Sorry, I can’t help it.” She giggled again and forced herself to calm down. “It’s so nice to be with you. Don’t you miss the days when we were little and just cuddled up to each other?”
“Yes,” I admitted. Those were the days when things were less complicated.
For about ten years, from ages three to thirteen, Tabitha would quietly come to my bed in the early morning and curl up in my arms. She would often put her ear to my chest, listening to my heartbeat. She would even match her breathing with mine. Eventually, this would lull her back to sleep. Mom and Dad were grateful for the peace and quiet of the morning. Of course, her warm little body next to mine usually lulled me to sleep as well.
Tabitha would have continued her morning walk if I hadn’t stopped her. Why? I have my reasons.
That morning, Tabitha hugged me from behind and fell asleep long before I did. I lay in my bed for almost an hour, listening to her breathing and feeling her heartbeat on my back. Her breasts pressed against me from behind and her warm breath tickled my neck. It smells delicious, like cinnamon. Tabby has been a fan of tic-tac-toe for years. She said she always wants to be “ready to kiss” if she finds someone worth kissing.
Damn it. I was behaving well until I thought of him and kissed him. It hooked me and my body responded. I clenched my lips tightly, unable to stop the heat from spreading to a very inappropriate place.
When Tabitha started snoring, I fought back the horrible sensation. I even resisted the urge to reach between my legs to ease the pain. As disgusting as it sounds, I have done this too when she caught me in bed like this. My little sister was fast asleep.
But this time I shut my lips tightly, depriving myself of the pleasure and release of masturbation. This is a good punishment.
You see, I miss Tabitha more than I can ever tell her. I miss her so much. I don’t just love my sister. I’m in love with her . It’s been that way for years. I hate myself for that.
I won’t claim that the Irish invented self-hatred, but I think we can all agree that as a people we have developed it pretty well.
~*~*~Part 03~*~*~
Secret love. In Gaelic it means “secret love.”
My grandmother would say the horrible things I experienced whenever I was around Tabitha. I have struggled with it, denied it, and been angry about it. I have even cried myself to sleep for a few long moments wondering, “Oh God, why me?” Lately, I have been focusing on accepting that I love my sister in every way: physically, emotionally, mentally, psychologically, and spiritually.
All of these important allies.
This is so bad. I mean, seriously, how much more taboo is this than gay brother incest ? You know, it doesn’t involve a farm animal. I don’t want my life to be a sham.
When I woke up that morning my shirt was turned back on. As I had feared, Tabitha had clung to me so perfectly, her naked skin pressed against mine, that I was having the most ridiculous sex dreams.
The kissing, licking, touching and sucking had been going on for hours. I had never seen a strap-on dildo except in a porn movie , so why did Tabitha make me dream about using a dildo with her? Give and take ? I have a headache and it’s getting worse.
I sighed and carefully rolled over in front of Tabby, my only sister, my best friend, the true and aching longing of my heart. She looked especially beautiful like this, asleep, lit up by the soft morning light coming in through the window.
I didn’t fall in love with Tabitha because of her looks. Still, it doesn’t hurt that she is beautiful from head to toe. My sister is prettier than me in every way; I’ve always thought so, and the boys growing up more or less agree with me. Even before Tabby hit puberty, they stopped looking at her. Her big bright green eyes, delicate nose, straight, white smile, and gorgeous blonde hair guarantee that.
In fact, Tabby’s hair always fluctuates between blonde and light brown, depending on the weather. It’s the middle of January, and the light-haired girl is already beyond the pale, but she has spent the last two months in the hot desert of Nevada. As proof, she also wore some bright platinum highlights that contrasted well with her dark skin. It wasn’t just her color that was beautiful, Tabby’s hair was shiny, incredibly thick, silky, and silky smooth. She could make a living by acting in salon commercials.
Me? I inherited Gram’s wild brown curls and ivory skin. The only ad I could reach was for Irish Spring soap. The thing is, I can’t whistle at all.
But Tabby…oh, Tabby. When puberty came, it hit her like a freight train, and the things men did around my sister went from ridiculous to hilarious. Who could blame them? Almost overnight, her legs turned into smooth, miniskirt-like limbs. At thirteen, she started complaining that her breasts were big and round, already twice the size of mine at seventeen, because they made gymnastics more difficult. She went quiet about them at fifteen when she discovered they were male magnets mounted on her chest.
Don’t get me wrong, Tabitha is more than just beautiful. She’s funny, gentle, sweet, thoughtful and extremely sensitive. She’s also open, honest, independent, brave and she’s always fair, nice and kind , which younger sisters usually aren’t.
When she was eleven, Tabby rescued a squirrel with a broken leg and hand-fed the little creature until it healed. But even after it healed, it didn’t want to go. So “Squeakers” ran around our house and slept on her dresser for the next six years. He follows Tabby everywhere. When the old squirrel died at age eight, Tabby cried incessantly for a month. I miss that little guy, too. He’s a tiny, furry, breathing example, living proof that tabby cats are different from me in so many ways. There are so many things I’ll never be. She touched people and everyone loved her. Even the bushy-tailed mice.
I think the scream must have left its mark on Tabitha too. My sister has become a talented nature photographer. One of her photos even appeared on the cover of National Geographic magazine last year. At only twenty-two years old, she is apparently the youngest photographer alive. Yes, Tabby is talented too.
I am most proud of my little sister. A small group of people were jealous. That left some parts of her that she wanted. Yes, those are the naughty parts of me.
I sighed and watched Tabby sleep, enjoying the opportunity to stare at her freely without making up any lame excuses. Her mouth opened slightly, which made me smile. I teased her about it so often when we were growing up, mercilessly calling her a “mouth breather” that I actually made her cry a few times before she stopped. There’s no cruelty like brother or sister cruelty.
The sleepy tabby cat had always been my favorite. It was all I could do to avoid kissing him. It could have been as simple as pressing my lips to his, running my tongue between them and gently guiding him to his mouth, just as I remembered wanting to.
Oh, Tubs, my little secret love .
I had to hold my breath as her arms – which were around my waist while I was asleep and later slid to my hips when I turned over – tightened around me. In sleep, without her realizing it, her hand gently cupped my ass and used it to pull herself closer to me, now face to face. Her very large breasts pressed against mine, and her nose found the crook of my neck. Her hot, wet breath wafted up my throat. She sputtered, then stilled.
Oh my god, she was killing me today.
Still, I reached behind her, grabbed the back of her head and gently tugged at the hair at the top of her neck. She sighed lazily, then her breathing became even and regular, and she fell into a deep sleep again.
This might sound crazy, but generally speaking, I’m not gay. I mean, I’m not really attracted to other women. I’ve actually looked it up, hoping in some perverse way that I liked girls and that Tabby was the hottest girl in my neighborhood. At one point, I even invited Tabitha’s prettiest cheerleader, Galpal, into my bedroom as a final, desperate test.
Her name is Kendra, she’s openly gay and beautiful, with dark hair, smoky eyes and olive skin. She’s been letting me come to her for years, so when I closed the bedroom door and asked her if she’d help me with something, I barely had time for her to kiss me, and she did.
Kendra’s lips feel amazing and smell delicious, like apples. Also, I love the way she sighs dreamily during kisses. But it has no effect on me. Not what I was hoping. Kendra is beautiful, not to mention a great kisser, but my body is not responding to her. My sister doesn’t like any response.
“Nothing?” Kendra finally asked, opening her deep, dark bedroom eyes and looking at me expectantly.
I smiled helplessly: “No, I’m sorry.”
“Come on,” she said, smiling as she squeezed my arm, “you’re a good kisser. This is fun for me. Tell me if you want to have some sort of annual lesbian checkup?” I win. Don’t tell Tabby. The corner of her mouth turned up into a mischievous smile, “She’ll be jealous no matter what.” Before I could explain it to Kendra, she stormed out of my bedroom.
It later became clear what Kendra meant, because most importantly, Tabby liked girls, and she and Kendra weren’t just learning that in the bedroom. Amazing. I can also imagine something else – both of them, naked, rolling around, sweating profusely from the heat.
Tabby’s renewed enthusiasm brought me back to reality.
“So tell me, Molly?” my sister whispered sleepily into my neck.
“tell you what?”
“You know…the story…the long version.”
Again? “This is a bedtime story. When you’re falling asleep . Not when you’re awake. Aren’t we getting a little old?”
“You’re never too old for fairy tales,” she gasped, looking a little younger than her age. “Please?”
“Okay,” I gave up, took a deep breath and listened to the stories Tabby never got tired of.
“A long time ago, in a small village on the stormy coast of Northern Ireland, there lived an extremely beautiful young woman named Hannah Macallan. In fact, she was a thousand years old. The most beautiful girl I have ever seen. A dream come true – short.
Tabby laughed, “I think you added that last part. But go ahead,” she added quickly when I shot her a glance.
“But humans aren’t the only ones with imaginations. Elf men have imaginations too. Hannah’s beauty is enough to touch the hearts of elves. It just so happens that when she was born, Hannah’s first scream attracted the great elf prince Bertolus. He slipped in and, for better or worse, fell in love with Hannah right away.
For Bertolas, Hannah’s short nineteen years passed like the snap of a finger, but he still managed to wait. On her birthday he visited her, wooed her, sang songs older than mortal ears, and presented her with tokens of his appreciation. She is beautiful, like all her kind. They fell in love quickly and deeply.
But before marrying her, Hannah begged the fairy prince to promise that he would remain faithful to her until his death. She couldn’t bear to share it with him. It’s almost impossible to make such a request of an immortal. They naturally live freely, love freely and pursue beauty for beauty’s sake. However, for Hannah, the prince figured out a way to change that too. He gave Hannah her promise, and an even better promise. He swore a powerful oath in ancient magical words that bound her entire heart like cold iron.
Hannah and the fairy prince were soon married. He kept his promise, he loved her and remained faithful to her, not only until his death, but forever after. Beltruth is still alive and honors him in her heart. As strong as their love was, so strong were their vows.
