One sunny afternoon, I was lounging in my room, enjoying some peace and quiet, when my step-sister, Emily, suddenly burst through the door without knocking. She had that mischievous glint in her eye that usually meant trouble. I braced myself, unsure of what she was up to this time.
“Hey, big brother,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “Take off my shirt.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, what?” I stammered, trying to process her request.
“Just do it,” she insisted, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.
Confused but not wanting to argue, I reluctantly reached for the hem of the shirt I was wearing and pulled it off, handing it to her. She smirked, clearly enjoying my bewilderment.
“Now take off my skirt,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.
I hesitated, but her stern look made it clear she wasn’t joking. Sighing, I unzipped the skirt I had on and stepped out of it, handing it over as well. By this point, I was thoroughly confused and a little embarrassed.
But she wasn’t done. “Take off my bra and panties,” she said, her voice steady and her expression unreadable.
My jaw dropped. “Emily, what the hell is going on?” I asked, my face turning red.
“Just do it,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing.
Feeling utterly perplexed and more than a little awkward, I complied, removing the bra and panties I was wearing and handing them to her. She took them without a word, her smirk growing wider.
Then, with a dramatic pause, she leaned in close and said, “If I ever catch you wearing my clothes again, I’m telling mom and dad!”
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been so caught up in the moment that I hadn’t even realized I was wearing her clothes. It all made sense now—the shirt, the skirt, even the bra and panties. I had accidentally grabbed her laundry instead of mine after the wash.
“Emily, I swear, it was an accident!” I protested, my face burning with embarrassment.
She laughed, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Sure, big brother. Just be more careful next time, or you’ll have some explaining to do.”
With that, she turned on her heel and strutted out of the room, leaving me standing there in my boxers, feeling both relieved and mortified. From that day on, I made sure to double-check the laundry before getting dressed. And I never heard the end of it from Emily, who took every opportunity to tease me about my little “fashion mishap.”
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