Thicker Than Water

You shift anxiously in the back of your Uber ride on Christmas Eve, repeatedly checking your reflection in the window. The driver doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort, focusing on the road ahead while Imagine Dragons plays over the radio. There’s a light drizzle outside, causing the passing streetlights to distort into ethereal patterns.

Eventually, the car pulls into the driveway of your grandparents’ house. You mutter some generic words of gratitude to the driver as you push the door open and step outside. The summer humidity almost immediately engulfs your body, causing you to wince. You walk up the front stairs as the sound of the departing car fades behind you.

You knock on the door and check your phone while waiting for someone to answer. Scrolling through Discord notifications, you quickly slip it back into your pocket as you hear the door open.

“Jake!” your mother beams, pulling you into a hug. “Missed you!”

“You too,” you mumble, hugging her back. Having to hear that name several dozen times throughout the evening is going to wear you down.

After prying yourself out of your mother’s arms, you step inside. The humid warmth of the outside is replaced by a cool air-conditioned atmosphere and the delicious smell of dinner cooking. Making your way through the living room and dining room, you greet the rest of your gathered family. As you sit down on the sofa beside several of your family members, you suddenly realise that everyone is here – except one specific person.

“Where’s Aunt Vivian?” you ask aloud.

“Running late, as usual,” your cousin Tayleigh sighs.

“Oh, right,” you reply. “Should have guessed.”

Aunt Vivian was treated as something of an oddity within your family. Until about ten years ago, she had been in a happy marriage with a loving wife and a stable job. But that all fell apart once she came out as transgender. It was a messy situation, and your family had generally tried to be supportive. Unfortunately, the very idea of someone being transgender was a relatively new concept for them to process at the time, and they often struggled trying to approach the topic without being insensitive. After a few years of divorce proceedings and financial instability, Aunt Vivian withdrew from family events and effectively disappeared from your life.

It had only been during the last few years that Aunt Vivian had truly started to reconnect with the rest of the family, and she seemed like a completely different person to you. Whoever she was a decade prior was effectively a distant memory in your mind – in fact, you struggled to even remember what she looked like back then if you didn’t have an old family photo in front of you. Nowadays, she usually showed up to family events in a turtleneck sweater, navy jeans, combat boots, thick black lipstick, round wire-frame glasses, long messy hair dyed either cerulean blue or dark green, sometimes smelling of booze or weed. She looked like a cross between a hipster librarian and an alcoholic cougar.

Even though she was thirty-nine years old – nearly twice your age – you got along pretty well with her. The two of you regularly shared heavy metal album recommendations with each other, and she would sometimes let you take a hit of her vape pen at family events when hanging out on the balcony. She also seemed more comfortable discussing personal her lifestyle with you than with other family members, describing herself as an “ethical slut” resigned to being voluntarily single (for now, at least). It wasn’t so much that everyone else was hostile to alternative lifestyles, but rather that they just didn’t really understand. You, however, understood perfectly well - even if you never really told her why.

You shake your head, focusing on the room around you. It’s a family event, after all. Better to socialise with people rather than get lost in your own thoughts. You do that enough in your own time anyway. You excuse yourself from the sofa and walk over to the kitchen. Just past the doorway, your grandmother stands over the stove, preparing her legendary potato bake. Squeezing past her and opening the fridge, you check what’s available. There are rows of soft drink cans and beer bottles. You don’t really like the taste of alcohol, so you grab a can of soft drink and make your way back to the sofa.

As you sit down again, you hear the front door open. You instinctively perk up as you hear the distinctive voice of Aunt Vivian greeting your mother at the door. From the faint slur in her voice, you can tell she probably had a few glasses of pink gin and soda before arriving. She walks through the living room, greeting everyone in turn. As she walks past, she looks down at you and ruffles your hair.

“Hey kiddo,” she grins. “Looking good tonight.”

You feel your heart almost skip a beat and have to restrain yourself from accidentally crushing the soft drink can in your grip. You feel butterflies in your stomach, like you usually do whenever you greets you like this or whenever you sit next to her.

“Hey Aunt Vivian,” you reply. “Good to see you again!”

“Always great to see you too, sweetie,” she nods, then pauses. “Oh, before I forget!”

You wait patiently as she awkwardly fumbles in her pockets and pulls out her wallet before handing you a crumpled fifty dollar bill. There’s a slight tear on one of the corners.

“Your present for this year,” she says. “Don’t spend it all at once!”

“Thanks,” you smile and nod. She nods back, then goes on to greet other people. You almost breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not normal to feel like this about a family member, but you can’t help it. You’ve felt like this since you were about sixteen, after accidentally stumbling across her Instagram page and seeing her raunchy selfies. You tried to banish those images from your head, telling yourself it was wrong to think about a family member that way, but they occasionally still surfaced in your mind when you masturbated. First it was just thinking about her, then it was being like her – that is, being a woman. You felt ashamed of it at first, but after a while you gave into temptation and ordered some feminine clothes to wear alone in your room, downloaded several hypnotic audio files that called you a good girl, and started masturbating in front of your mirror while cross-dressing.

Maybe it was her eventually coming back into your life a couple years later that flipped a switch somewhere deep in your unconscious, made you start questioning your own identity. The idea of being like her wasn’t just arousing, but euphoric and exciting. As soon as you moved out of home last year, you ordered hormones off the internet and started dosing yourself, then tentatively started referring to yourself as Jade around your closest friends. Even then, your thoughts about her didn’t stop. You wanted her to tease you, to bite you, to dress you up in cute clothes like a dolly. You were almost obsessed with her.

You are pulled out of your own thoughts as you hear your grandmother loudly announcing that dinner’s ready. Everyone dashes into the kitchen to pick up a plate and start loading it with food. You pile yours high with roast chicken, potato bake, roasted carrots, mushroom gravy, caesar salad, and a buttered bread roll. Tayleigh comes up besides you.

“Wanna sit together?” she asks.

“Sure,” you nod. You follow her to the dining table and sit next to each other. Tayleigh was a few years older than you, and probably the cousin you got along with the most. Of course, the rest of your cousins were either much younger or lived far away, so it wasn’t entirely surprising that Tayleigh was the one you bonded with. You two had hung out a lot as kids, forming a close bond while playing Call Of Duty games on her Xbox 360 and watching cheesy horror films together.

“How’s life?” she asks.

“Oh, you know, doing alright,” you respond. “Same as usual, really.”

“You say that every time we hang out! It’s like nothing ever happens in your house.”

“What, do you expect constant drama between me and my housemates or something?”

“When I moved out the first time, I constantly had drama with my housemates.”

“Sounds like you just picked shitty people to live with then.”

“At least they weren’t as boring as your housemates.”

Suddenly, you catch a familiar whiff of alcohol as Aunt Vivian takes the empty seat next to you.

“Nobody’s sitting here, I hope!” she jokes.

“Go right ahead,” you say. You had dreaded that this would happen, but had also secretly hoped it would.

“Thanks kiddo,” she replies.

“I am an adult, you know,” you grumble in mock annoyance.

“Yeah, and you’re a real adorable one,” she smirks. “Even if you’ve always been mature for your age.”

You almost choke from that remark. It was like she was deliberately pressing your buttons.

“Anyway,” she continues, “I’ve got… what, nearly twice the life experience you do by now?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, trying not to blush. Alcoholic cougars were a major weak spot for you, and it didn’t help that you already found Aunt Vivian to be extremely attractive. There was something intoxicating about her androgynous carefree look.

“Still growing your hair out, I see?” she comments.

“Looks like a rat’s nest,” Tayleigh interjects, lightly elbowing your side. “You should trim it some time!”

“Eh, maybe…” you weakly protest.

“Nonsense!” Aunt Vivian replies. “It looks great. They can grow it out if they want to.”

You shoot her a quick glance. It was probably nothing, but using they instead of he… does she know? Was she subtly clocking you as a boymoder? As if she notices your glance, she quickly changes the subject.

“Oh, I checked out those albums you sent me a week back,” she says. “That new Ulcerate album? So good!”

“Yeah, I thought you would like it!” you remark. “And that recent Frontierer project you sent me was crazy. I definitely got a few tracks from that one on repeat now.”

“Are you two just gonna keep talking and let your food get cold?” your grandmother jokes as she passes by in search of a seat. “Come on, dig in!”

You eagerly start stuffing your face with the delicious food. Your family always makes great food for festive occasions. Between mouthfuls of food, you make conversation with your surrounding family members, catching up on recent events, and so on. After a while, however, you realise that you need to use the toilet. You excuse yourself from the table and make your way to the bathroom. After quickly relieving yourself, you wash your hands and go to leave the bathroom, but you find Aunt Vivian waiting in the doorway.

“Oh!” you exclaim, almost yelping in surprise. “Sorry, you just gave me a fright.”

“Did I?” she smirks. She doesn’t move from the doorway. “You’re not in a rush, are you?”

“Uh, no, I guess not?” you reply.

“Good. I’d like to have a quick conversation with you,” she gestures to the bathroom behind you. “In private, I mean.”

“Uh, sure,” you gulp nervously. This feels weird. Its only a gut instinct, you can’t rationally explain what’s wrong. You back up into the bathroom and Aunt Vivian locks the door behind her. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, before I start,” she says, taking out her phone, “is there anything you want to tell me, now that we’re in private?”

Fuck. She totally knows.

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying to hide your growing anxiety.

She tilts her head and shows you her phone screen. It’s a Twitter account. Your almost feel your heart stop. No – it’s your Twitter account, where you are openly transgender. Where you post about your sexual fantasies. Where you’ve posted about sexual fantasies involving your aunt. Well, not her specifically, but a generic aunt figure that was very obviously supposed to be like her. It would be extremely apparent to her who you were thinking of when you wrote those posts.

“This is you, right?” she says. Her face is cold and emotionless.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you manage to force out. It’s entirely unconvincing.

“Come on, it is totally you,” she continues, pulling up one of your selfies. You usually keep your face obscured in them, but the hair is a total giveaway. You can’t deny it. You feel a pain in your chest and you grasp the sink basin. You feel like you’re having a panic attack. Aunt Vivian suddenly looks concerned and puts her phone away.

“Hey, its okay,” she gently coos, moving in and wrapping you up in a tight hug. “I’m not upset. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

You try to respond but you just mumble incoherently. She loosens her grip on you and looks down at you.

“Have you picked a name yet?” she asks. “I’m assuming that the Twitter one isn’t your real one.”

“Jade,” you answer.

“Jade,” she repeats. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. You’re really growing out into a stunning piece of eye candy, you know that?”

Your eyes widen and you blush bright red.

“T-thank you…” you whisper. “S-so, you’re not mad that, um… that I wrote that stuff that’s like… I mean, not about you, but… y-you know…”

“Oh, sweetie,” she says. You’re so close to her that the stench of alcohol is really beginning to suffocate you. Her hug loosens more and her hands slowly drop down to your waist. You look up at her, and see a fiery passion in her eyes. “I’m flattered, honestly.”

“Y-you are?” You gasp as she suddenly squeezes your hips. “A-aunt Vivian!”

“Fuck, you’ve got a gorgeous figure,” she huffs, moving her hands up under your shirt. If it wasn’t obvious already, her jerky movements make it clear that she is very drunk at this point. “Such soft skin… I’m so lucky to have a niece as sexy as you…”

You gently whine from her touch. This is really happening. This is really happening. She looks at you with a cheeky smirk.

“Not too loud,” she whispers. “Don’t want anyone outside to hear us, right?”

You quietly nod, biting your lip. Your heart is racing.

“Come on,” she demands. “Turn around for me.”

You do as she says, placing both your hands on the basin for balance. You find yourself staring up into the bathroom mirror, seeing the reflection of Aunt Vivian moving her hands further up under your shirt. You try not to moan as she grabs your breasts.

“Oh wow, you really are growing in, aren’t you?” she softly coos into your ear. “Such a good girl…”

You see the reflection of your own eyes widen as you gasp. Tingles of pleasure run across your chest and through your spine. You wordlessly murmur as she gently squeezes and massages your breasts.

“You really like that, huh?” she chuckles.

“S-so good…” you mumble, lost in a thick fog of bliss. You feel one of her hands suddenly dip down, moving across your belly, into your underwear. You blink a few times as you hear her gasp.

“Is someone wearing a chastity cage?” she asks, wrapping her fingers around the pink plastic cage. You didn’t know you could blush even brighter. “And to a family event! Such a naughty girl… maybe someone needs to teach you some discipline, hmm?”

“P-please…”

“Please what?”

“Please discipline me, Aunt Vivian…”

“You’re so fucking adorable when you beg. You’d look so fucking perfect on your knees for me.”

Suddenly, you hear someone twisting the doorknob. Before you can even panic, Aunt Vivian takes her other hand from your breast and sticking her index and middle fingers together into your mouth. You instinctively start suckling on them, feeling your brain quickly turn off. She definitely has read a lot of your Twitter if she knows about your crippling oral fixation.

“Who is it?” Aunt Vivian drunkenly shouts, breaking her composure.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know it was occupied,” your father’s voice calls through the door. “Will you be long?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, just use the upstairs one!” Aunt Vivian shouts back.

“Alright, just make sure you’re ready for desert soon,” your father sighs and walks away. Aunt Vivian sighs and turns her attention back to you.

“You okay?” she asks. You let out a muffled moan, still sucking on her fingers, your mind blank and hazy, eyes vacant and droopy. She lets out a chuckle and gently slides her fingers back and forth, fingerfucking your mouth. Your eyes roll back into your head as your needy girlcock strains against your chastity cage.

“Fuck, I can feel you leaking already!” Aunt Vivian exclaims. “Such a pathetic girl. What I wouldn’t give to find you tied up under my Christmas tree tomorrow morning…”

After a few minutes of watching you writhe and whimper, Aunt Vivian slowly takes her fingers out of your mouth and lets you go. You blink a few times, leaning against the door while you catch your breath. As you do so, you look up and see her sucking on the fingers of her other hand.

“I-is that… from me leaking?” you ask between gasps of air.

“Yep,” she nods, licking her lips. “Not bad at all.”

“T-thanks,” you smile weakly.

“Let’s get back to the table,” Aunt Vivian says. “I’ll go back first. We don’t want to rouse any suspicions if we go back together, right?”

“You think anyone will notice?”

“If you’re this out of breath and flustered? Probably.”

“O-oh, right…”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” she smiles, unlocking the door and walking out.

You sigh and take a few minutes to steady your breath. You’ve barely had time to process what just happened. That did just happen, didn’t it? You can barely even believe it. It’s like one of your dreams had magically come true. Maybe it is just a dream? It feels euphoric, but also mildly terrifying.

Eventually you gather your nerves and walk back to the dining room. You take your seat at the table again, between your cousin and your aunt. Aunt Vivian acts very nonchalant, only giving you a brief nod of acknowledgement in the gap of a conversation she’s holding with your grandfather.

“What took you so long?” Tayleigh asks.

“Oh, I think lunch was disagreeing with me,” you shrug, trying to stay casual. Luckily, your grandmother suddenly calls out that desert is ready, preventing Tayleigh from questioning further. Your mind is already focused on the trifle sitting on the kitchen counter. It’s one of the things you look forward to every Christmas, while everyone else seems to prefer pavlova. Within a few minutes, you’re loading a bowl with layers of sponge cake, strawberry, peaches, kiwi fruit, custard, and whipped cream, then topping it up with some scoops of vanilla ice cream and extra custard. You really love custard.

The rest of the night is mostly uneventful by the standards of a usual family Christmas. Everyone has desert, then some more desert, the older adults crack open more alcohol and play card games at the table while the teenagers and younger adults go to the living room and watch reruns of British panel shows on the television. Aunt Vivian stays with the group playing cards, and you stay with the group watching television. It’s only somewhat intentional. As much as you want to be close to her, you don’t want to rouse suspicion or come off as clingy. And there’s still the slightly terrifying element of how suddenly real it all is. You still feel an anxious energy dancing throughout your nervous system, even as you sink into the soft pillows of the sofa and try to focus on the television screen.

You haven’t been paying attention to the time, but eventually you look up as you realise its nearly midnight and most people are getting ready to leave. You look around, worried that Aunt Vivian left without saying goodbye. Eventually, you spot her out on the balcony, smoking on her vape pen. Smoke clouds around her head almost like a halo. You excuse yourself from the sofa and walk out onto the balcony.

“Hey,” you say. She looks up in surprise, breaking into a warm smile when she sees you.

“Oh, hey,” she says softly. You can tell she’s still drunk, but also tired. “How are you holding up?”

“I think it’s time to go home,” you reply. “Everyone else is getting ready to go.”

“Home?” she asks. She moves closer to you, drawing in another hit of her vape pen before blowing the smoke directly into your face. The sickly synthetic smell of fake mango flavour mixes with her boozy aroma and practically leaves you stunlocked. “You’re coming home with me, kiddo. Isn’t that right?”

You stammer out a nonverbal response and meekly nod. She chuckles and ruffles your hair.

“Attagirl,” she says, tucking her vape pen away. “Time to make the rounds and say goodbye to everyone. I’ll shout us an Uber ride soon. Don’t tell anyone you’re coming with me though.”

“Yeah, of course,” you nod again as your brain slowly regains the ability to form complex sentences. Aunt Vivian chuckles and walks back inside, and you eagerly follow. You go round and say goodbye to everyone, giving them hugs and telling them how good it was to see them again. Once you’re done, you follow Aunt Vivian out onto the driveway and down the road, making sure to be out of everyone’s sight. An Uber soon pulls up, and Aunt Vivian holds the car door open for you.

“Ladies first,” she grins.

“Doesn’t that mean you should go in first?” you ask.

“You flatter me,” she replies. “But I must insist.”

You shrug and enter the car. She climbs in after you and closes the door, confirming her address with the driver. The car pulls out of its parking spot and begins its journey.

After a few minutes of silence, Aunt Vivian leans in close to you. The smell of alcohol on her is really strong now in the enclosed space.

“Hey,” she whispers. “You wanna make out?”

“Here?” you whisper back. “In front of the driver?”

“Come on, he’s paying attention to the road. Besides, he doesn’t even know us.”

“Well, I guess…”

You feel her fingers suddenly cup your chin and suddenly you’re making direct eye contact with Aunt Vivian. Maybe its the passing streetlights flickering in her glasses, but there’s something almost otherworldly about her right now. A shiver runs down your spine and you almost gasp in awe. She leans in and her tongue worms into your mouth. You taste faint remnants of alcohol as her warmth fills your body. You close your eyes and push your tongue back against hers. There’s no need to focus on anything else. Just the sensations of you making out with your alcoholic cougar aunt.

After some indeterminate amount of time, you find yourself stumbling out of the car after Aunt Vivian as she leads you up towards her apartment. You’ve never been inside it before, but you recall her describing it as a small yet comfortable space made up of three main rooms. She leads you into the buildings stairwell, leading you up two flights of stairs before she drunkenly pushes you against a wall and sticks her tongue back into your mouth. You barely even resist. In fact, you playfully squirm against her grasp, and you moan into her kiss when she grabs your wrist in response and pins them against the wall above you, locking you in place. After a few minutes, she reluctantly lets you go and drags you up another flight of stairs until she reaches the door of her apartment space. She fumbles in her pocket for her keys, eventually unlocking the door to let you inside.

“Home sweet home,” Aunt Vivian sighs, walking in and throwing herself onto the nearest sofa. You walk inside and take in what you assume is the living room. Four white walls, fuzzy white carpet across the floor, with two adjacent leather sofas opposite a television on a standing desk. The air conditioning is already on full blast, making you shiver a little.

“It’s got a nice vibe,” you comment, moving to sit on the sofa.

“Ah, don’t sit down quite yet,” Aunt Vivian suddenly sits up. “Get on the floor.”

“Huh?”

“Come on. Down on all fours. I need a footrest for a while.”

“Oh, o-okay,” you blush. You crawl down on your hands and knees like a dog to where Aunt Vivian is sitting.

“Just there is good,” she says. You feel the thud of her heavy combat boots coming down on your back and almost instinctively feel your cock straining against its cage again as Aunt Vivian flicks through her Netflix catalogue and settles on an old episode of Seinfeld. Your turn your head to look at the screen, but suddenly wheeze as she kicks you in the ribs.

“Good objects don’t move or think,” she says bluntly.

You let out a whine as you wordlessly nod and continue facing the ground. It feels so good to let her use you like this. As if you’re letting her use you. Objects don’t have a say in whether they’re used or not. It feels so natural to just let your thoughts slow to a crawl, just focus on being a good object. Just a piece of furniture, with a sole purpose making up your entire existence. You feel so lucky to be used by your owner.

However, this doesn’t last for long. After what you think was fifteen or twenty minutes, you suddenly register your aunt calling out your name. You turn your head to look at her, noticing the absence of her boots on your back. It almost feels like a part of you is suddenly missing.

“I changed my mind,” she groans. “Enough resting my legs. My feet are killing me.”

“What do you want me to do?” you ask.

She motions for you to sit up, and you do so, only to find the soles of her boots right in front of your face. You stammer a bit and look up at her. She wordlessly nods. You know what to do. Reaching up and untying her laces, you take one boot off, and then the other. Now her socks are staring you in the face, and you can smell the musky sweat on them. You fight back the urge to plant your face directly into them, but your aunt is one step ahead as she simply pushes them into your face anyway. You moan without thinking and push your face into them in return. The thick smell suffocates your thoughts and you feel dizzy from arousal.

“Such a pathetic muskslut,” Aunt Vivian teases, pressing harder against your face. You can only whimper and mumble in response. “That’s it, just let the smell cloud your mind. All those thoughts just buried under my soft musky socks.”

After a few minutes of watching you pathetically squirm and moan, she eventually relents and pulls away her feet. You pant, trying to catch your breath. This sight only makes her chuckle.

“Alright, alright,” she smirks. “Take them off too.”

You nod and slowly pull off the socks one at a time. Aunt Vivian’s feet are warm and sweaty, but surprisingly smooth for someone her age. You imagine she must have a good skincare routine.

“I think they need some cleaning,” she says. “Think you can manage that, kiddo?”

You eagerly nod and grab one of your aunt’s feet. Nervously, you give it a brief lick. The mix of her skin and sweat has a somewhat umami-like taste with a slightly sour edge. You take a deep breath and run your tongue up the entire underside of her foot. You do it again. And again. Making sure you cover every single inch. Then you pull her foot down and clean the gaps between each toe. Sticking your tongue in between the toes is a bit tricky – her toenails sometimes scrape the sides of your tongue and an occasional piece of sock lint gets into your mouth – but you get eventually get the job done. And after that, you do the same with her other foot. Aunt Vivian moans softly the whole time, as if she were getting a professional massage.

After you’re finally done cleaning, you look up at your aunt. She smiles down at you.

“Good girl,” she coos, pressing her feet into your face. They’re freshly moist from your spit and still warm. She flexes them against your skin, giggling as you moan. Almost instinctively, you reach down to touch yourself, forgetting that you still have your chastity cage on. You let out a disappointed whine when your fingers touch cold plastic.

“Trying to touch yourself without permission?” Aunt Vivian asks sternly. You yelp and quickly pull your hand away. She laughs, pressing her feet even harder against your face, mocking how pathetic you are right now. “Awww, did the dumb footslut forget she had her cage on? Too bad. Next time I’ll keep your arms tied behind your back so you learn some discipline.”

“Yes Aunt Vivian,” you mumble from behind her feet.

“Please, you can call me Mistress Vivi. All my friends do when I have them down on their knees before me.”

“Yes Mistress Vivi.”

“Good girl. Fuck, I have so many things I want to do to you. I’d love to drag you around on a collar and leash. My boot pressing down on top of your head as you eat from a dog bowl. Imagine that in front of the rest of the family, hmm? Letting them all see what a little freak you are. Or maybe we’d dress you up in fetish gear, conceal any identifying features, hide away that pretty face of yours somehow. Just a thin layer of plastic or leather preventing them from finding out about our little secret. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Y-yes Mistress Vivi.”

“I knew you would,” she smiles, pulling her feet away from your face. “Anyway, get up. It’s time for bed.”

“Already?” you ask, disappointed. You had been having so much fun.

“It’s half past midnight,” she sighs. “It’s technically Christmas Day already.”

“Ah, I didn’t now it was that late…” you awkwardly mumble, rising to your feet. “I’m sorry…”

“Hey, don’t apologise. It’s okay,” Aunt Vivian says, pulling you into a tight hug. “Now let’s get you into bed, kiddo!”

She grabs you by the wrist and drags you down the hall to her bedroom. Four more white walls, the same white fuzzy carpet across the floor. The walls are sparse aside from a few metal band posters hung around. Her bed frame has several hooks and loops welded to it that are very obviously for some form of bondage, and twinkling star string lights sit atop the headboard. As you glance around the room, Aunt Vivian strips down to her underwear. You almost gawk at her.

“You see something you like?” she grins, noticing your reaction.

“Yeah, um, like,” you stammer. “You’re really gorgeous. Like, kinda stunning, honestly.”

For the first time all night, it actually seems like you caught her off guard. She opens her mouth to speak, then pauses and starts to blush.

“Such a damn tease,” she eventually says quietly as she climbs into bed. You strip down to your underwear and suddenly pause.

“Can I, uh… take my chastity cage off?” you ask.

“Of course you can,” she says. “I’m not gonna make you wear it while you sleep if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you,” you say. You unlock the cage using the small key you keep in the back of your phone case and spend a few minutes gently sliding it off, careful not to damage your genitals.

“Can you turn the light off while you’re up?” Aunt Vivian asks. “It’s just next to the door behind you.”

The switch off the light and the room is plunged into darkness for a few seconds. Suddenly, the star lights on your aunt’s bed light up. They don’t completely illuminate the room, but you’re able to make your way to the bed and snuggle up next to Aunt Vivian. You lay your head on her chest and she starts gently stroking your hair.

“Thank you for an amazing evening,” you yawn.

“Right back at you, kiddo,” she replies. “Sorry if I gave you too much of a shock earlier.”

“It’s fine, honestly.”

“Are you sure?”

“… honestly, I don’t know if I’ve fully processed it. It was a lot.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow if you want?”

“I think that would be nice. And like, we should totally do this all again sometime.”

“I’d really like that.”

“Merry Christmas, Aunt Vivian.”

“Merry Christmas, Jade.”