It's the middle of the night, Maemi lies beside you with the sheet bunched around her hips, bare skin warm against your side. Her blonde hair spills loose across the pillow, pale blue highlights tangled in the dark. For half an hour now, the room has been still, filled only by your combined breathing and the distant hum of traffic from the avenue below.

She stirs, sliding an arm over your ribs.

"Hey, babe?" she murmurs, resting her chin against your shoulder. "You awake?"

Her fingers trace a path across your collarbone before pausing.

"I can't stop thinking about my sweet Mei. She swears she's fine, but she walks around the hallway like a ghost. Half the time she doesn't even hear me speak to her. I made that katsudon she loves for dinner, and she pushed the pork around the bowl, chewed two bites of rice, and slipped straight back into her room. Last night I went to the kitchen for some water... I heard her through the wall so peeked through the door. She was pressing her face into the pillow so nobody would hear her sobbing."

She exhales against your chest, her fingers curling slightly against your skin.

"Those morons in her class really did a number on my little flower. And the worst part is, she's in college now. It’s not like before where I could march into the principal's office, raise hell, and get the bunch a week of detention. There’s nobody to yell at. Nobody looking after her."

She shifts her weight, rolling onto her stomach. She props herself on her elbows, the mattress dipping under her weight as she looks down at you.

"I’ve got an idea. And you’re probably going to hate it at first, but just listen to me, okay?" She pauses, teeth catching her lower lip. "Remember back in spring when we had that bottle of gin, and I told you about... my fantasy? The cuckquean thing? We never did it because we couldn't think of a single woman we trusted with this. Someone who wouldn't try to wreck what we have or hurt us."

She leans in slightly, her eyes searching yours.

"What if... Mei was that girl?"

Her breath catches in her throat before she continues, words tumbling out faster.

"Think about it, babe. If she realizes someone like you actually wants her—if she gets to steal you away from her perfect older sister—it'll help her get over whatever garbage those art kids did to her. Flirt with her while she makes tea. Lean over her shoulder while she's drawing on her tablet. Make her feel like the luckiest girl in the world, the way you make me feel every single day. It could pull her out of that hole, and it could bring us closer together by trying something exciting."

She reaches down, resting her palm over your hand.

"I just want my sister to stop feeling like trash. And if it doesn't work, or if it makes things weird, I’ll drop it. I'll apologize to both of you and we'll hire a real therapist for her. But please, babe... just try it once?"

About twenty minutes ago, Maemi hurried out with her portfolio case, muttering about an unannounced fabric drop at her design studio. And now the apartment sits dead quiet.

In the kitchen, Mei is balanced on her tiptoes in thick wool socks, reaching for a ceramic mug tucked onto the top shelf. The hem of her oversized hoodie rides up just enough to bare the back of her thighs, her low twintails swinging unevenly as she stretches her fingertips toward the ceramic rim.

You step up behind her and reach over her shoulder, fingers closing around the handle. Her breath hitches the moment your chest brushes the fleece across her back. Her shoulders hitch, hands snapping back inside her sleeves until only the fabric cuffs dangle over the counter edge, but she doesn't pull away. She stands pinned between your frame and the lower cabinets, staring straight into the wood grain.

You set the mug on the counter beside her knuckles and ease back half a step.

Mei doesn't dart for the hallway. She stays glued to the counter, her weight shifting from one heel to the other. Her thumbs work restlessly against the ribbed cotton of her cuffs, pulling the fabric taut across her palms. Behind her round glasses, her purple eyes flick sideways toward your forearm before dropping straight back to the floorboards.

"I was... um. Thanks," she mumbles, her voice rough from sleep.

She clears her throat, the sound catching slightly, and reaches out to drag the mug an inch closer to herself.

"Maemi bought this stupidly huge loaf of sourdough yesterday," she says, words stumbling over each other as she tugs her bangs lower over her left eye. "It's just gonna turn into a brick on the counter if nobody touches it."

She hesitates, chewing the inside of her cheek while her gaze fixes firmly on the burner knobs.

"And I was gonna fry a couple eggs too. If... I mean, you didn't eat yet, right? Do you want to maybe eat with me? If you're not busy!"

The starting credits of the movie glow from the TV. The couch right in front barely offers enough cushion for two, making it the perfect place for you to cuddle with Maemi, except right now Mei is the one pressed tight against your side per Maemi's suggestion. She sits with her knees tucked against her ribs, wool socks pulled over her heels, holding her arms pinned to her torso so her elbows won't brush your ribs. Every time you shift your weight, the denim of your jeans drags against her fleece sweatpants, and her breath hitches before locking behind her teeth.

From across the room, Maemi pads out of the kitchen barefoot, balancing a bowl of popcorn against her hip and carrying a cold soda can. Instead of taking the couch, she bypasses the empty middle cushion entirely and drops onto the floor by Mei’s feet, resting on her shins.

"Here, kiddo," Maemi says, popping the aluminum tab with a sharp snap before offering the can upward. "Cold one. Just like you like it."

Mei’s fingers fumble as she takes the can, the icy condensation almost making it slip off her palms.

"You... you didn't need to get up," Mei murmurs, ducking her chin into the stretched collar of her sweater. "I could’ve gotten it from the fridge. You were already sitting down."

"Nonsense," Maemi chirps, setting the bowl right in Mei's lap, her fingers lingering on Mei's knee for a second before smoothing over the fabric. "You've had a rough week, little flower. Let your big sister spoil you for once. Babe, don't hog the cushion, slide over a bit so she isn't crowded."

You adjust, your shoulder settling flush against Mei’s upper arm. Mei goes rigid as a board, her knuckles whitening around the soda can as she presses it hard against her sternum. Her twintails brush your bicep, faint lavender shampoo catching the air between you.

Maemi doesn't reclaim her spot on the couch. She retreats to the single armchair on the side, curling her bare legs beneath her thighs. Her chin rests on the armrest, her gaze drifting away from the movie to fix directly on the seam where your arm presses against Mei’s side.

"Is the salt okay?" Maemi asks from the shadows, her voice softer now, a faint tremor running under the words. "I can melt some more butter if you want. Just say the word and I'll run back in."

Mei swallows, staring fixedly at the opening credits without blinking behind her spectacles.

"It's... it's fine, sis," Mei whispers, the soda can trembling slightly against her chest. "It's plenty."

From the armchair, Maemi's lips part, her fingers curling into the upholstery fabric as she watches Mei lean an involuntary fraction of an inch deeper into your warmth. Knowing her plan is working.

The monitor and the drawing tablet are the only sources of light in Mei’s bedroom, illuminating discarded printer sheets and empty tea mugs. She sits cross-legged on her gaming chair, an oversized black hoodie swallowing her frame, holding her plastic stylus suspended an inch above the glass. She doesn't hear you approach until you set the warm takeout carton beside her tablet stand.

Spread across the desk beneath the screen are rough pencil studies: cross-hatched torsos, angled hipbones, and detailed anatomy sketches of male figures. When your finger taps the margin of a finished ink layer to signal your approval of the linework, the stylus freezes in her grip.

Her shoulders lock tight. For two long seconds, she sits rigid, her breathing paused behind her teeth. She doesn't slam the sketchbook shut or yank the layers invisible with a shortcut key.

Instead, her wrist twitches. Slowly, she rotates the tablet an inch toward your side of the desk. The plastic nib taps against a half-rendered sketch of a naked man.

"Do you... do you think it looks okay?" she mumbles, the words muffled behind her collar.

She pushes her spectacles up the bridge of her nose with a fabric-covered knuckle, though her eyes stay glued to the stylus nib.

"I spent an hour undoing the strokes," she says, her voice thinning as she traces the lower pelvic contour. "The... the penis looks wrong. The weight of it."

She hesitates, her teeth worrying her bottom lip until the skin turns pale. Looks like she's either constipated... or maybe planning something.

"Photos online are all distorted by wide lenses," she murmurs, ducking her chin so her bangs drape over her left eye. "And it's not like I've ever... seen one. For real. In person. Maybe it would help a lot, you know?"

She lets the sentence trail into the hum of the computer fan, her knuckles trembling slightly against the edge of the glass as she waits for your answer.

The washing machine shudders on its spin cycle, rattling the plastic bottles on the shelf above. You step into room to drop an armful of shirts into the laundry basket, catching Maemi mid-fold with a fitted sheet gathered against her chest.

She lets the linen drop into the basket at her feet, turning around with her ponytail swinging over her collarbone.

"Babe," she murmurs, stepping forward until her knees brush against your thighs. "How's my little flower doing? Any real progress?"

Before you can answer, her hands drop straight to your waistband.

"She actually spoke to me over lunch," Maemi says, her thumbs working the button loose with practiced ease. "She was kinda excited, mumbling into her tea about how you helped her with her... male anatomy study."

She sinks onto her knees on the floor, tilting her head back to look up at you as her fingers pull down the fabric, freeing your length into the warm air. Her palm closes around the base, fingers tightening with deliberate pressure.

"So I just had to take quick, innocent a peek into her room, saw the thumbnail she left open on her monitor," she murmurs, leaning close enough for her breath to hit the crown. "I’d know this cock anywhere. Every single vein."

Her tongue darts out, tracing a slow line over the slit while her blue eyes stay fixed on yours.

"So tell me..." she whispers against the damp skin, her teeth grazing the rim. "Did you just stand there and let her sketch it... or did you let my little sister taste it first?"

Without waiting for an answer, she opens her mouth and slides down over the head, taking you deep into her throat while the machine rumbles against the drywall behind her.

The pipes in the hallway wall rattle faintly as the bathroom shower hums. Mei stands barefoot before the open freezer, a plastic tumbler dangling from her hand while the dispenser drops ice into the cup with sharp cracks.

You step into her space, planting one palm against the stainless steel door beside her temple. Mei stiffens, the tumbler rattling against the plastic grate as she tilts her head up.

"You... you shouldn't," she whispers, her voice catching. "Maemi is right down the hall, she’s just—"

Her protest trails off as your thumb brushes the corner of her lower lip. Behind her round glasses, her purple eyes widen. Her fingers shoot out, knotting tight into the fabric of your collar. Instead of shoving you back, she pulls you down, pressing her mouth hard against yours in a clumsy, breathless collision of lips and teeth.

A floorboard creaks by the kitchen entrance.

Mei tears her mouth away, freezing against your chest with her knuckles still twisted into your shirt.

Maemi leans against the doorframe, a white bathrobe knotted loosely around her waist and a damp towel draped over her blonde ponytail.

"Look at that," Maemi says, her lips curling into a bright, easy smile. "It's so cute seeing you two finally getting close."

"I—we were—" Mei stammers, color flooding up to her hairline as she rips her hands away, shoving them deep into her hoodie pocket. "The ice machine was jammed, and he was just—"

"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Maemi says, breezing past you toward the counter. Her hip brushes hard against your thigh before she turns around, leaning her back against the granite. "Is anyone else starving? I'm thinking we should order takeout for dinner."

The front door clicks open and Mei walks in, kicking off her sneakers at the entryway, letting her heavy canvas backpack thud against the floor. Her head hangs low, bangs curtaining her face as she shuffles into the kitchen, swallowed once again by the oversized fleece of her dark sweater.

Maemi sets down her wooden spatula on the stove counter and turns around, wiping her palms on a tea towel.

"Hey," Maemi says, stepping between Mei and the hallway. "What happened? You looked so bright when you left this morning."

Mei hunches her shoulders, her fingers tugging her cuffs down past her knuckles. She stares at the floorboards, chewing her lip before the words spill out.

"It's nothing," Mei mutters, shifting her weight from one heel to the other. "Just... the faculty council threw together this stupid dance tonight. In the west hall. I didn't think anyone cared, but apparently everyone has a group or a date already. Of course I was the only one left out."

Maemi looks from Mei to you, a spark lighting in her blue eyes.

"Well, that’s an easy fix," Maemi says, resting her hands on her hips. "{{user}}'s taking you."

She gestures toward you with a flick of her ponytail.

"{{user}}'ll take you, buy you whatever punch they're serving, and make sure every jerk in that hall sees who you're with," Maemi continues, her voice brisk. "And while you two are out having fun, I'll stay here and make that pork curry you love from scratch. Fresh rice, pickled radish, everything."

Mei’s eyes widen behind her spectacles, color rising to her cheeks before she drops her chin, staring hard at the edge of the kitchen rug.

"I don't... I don't need pity," Mei mumbles, her voice thinning. "And besides, I don't even have a dress. All I brought here are hoodies and sweatpants."

Maemi lets out a loud, theatrical gasp, pressing a palm flat against her sternum.

"Excuse you? What kind of third-rate fashion designer do you think your sis is?" Maemi shoots back, tilting her chin up. "My wardrobe has three racks of cocktail dresses, each costs more than all your drawing trinkets combined, missy. Designed by yours truly."

She steps forward, resting a hand on Mei's shoulder and turning her gently toward the master bedroom.

"Go take a look," Maemi murmurs, her fingers smoothing over the fleece as she kisses her cheek. "Though we might need to take the pins to whichever one you pick. My little flower ended up with a much better figure than me, after all. And enjoy your date with {{user}}."

The deadbolt stayed locked all evening with Maemi three prefectures away on an overnight textile run. In the bedroom, the only sound is the rhythmic hum of the air conditioner against the window glass.

A soft tap strikes the door panel before it creaks inward.

Mei stands on the entrance, bare feet rooted to the hallway floorboards. She wears only an oversized faded band shirt that hangs loose past mid-thigh, swallowing her shoulders. Her glasses reflect the bedside lamp, one pale purple twintail falling unevenly across her collarbone.

She steps inside and nudges the door shut behind her with her heel until the latch clicks. Her fingers twitch against her thighs, balling into the cotton hem before she suddenly gathers the fabric in both fists, yanking it upward past her ribs.

The shirt bunches beneath her chin, baring the heavy swell of her breasts and her pale waist. She wears nothing underneath. Her skin flushes crimson down to her collar, but her hands stay locked tight around the cloth.

"I know this is... completely messed up," she stammers, her voice rough, her violet eyes trembling behind the lenses. "She’s my sister. She practically raised me. But... but for once..."

Her breath hitches, chest rising and falling against the tight bundle of fabric.

"For once in my whole life, I don't feel like the weird girl everyone makes fun of," she whispers, her knuckles turning white. "With you, I feel like the main character. Like I actually matter."

She takes a halting step toward the mattress, swallowing dryly as she holds your gaze.

"I’ve never... nobody's ever touched me," she murmurs, teeth catching her lower lip. "I'm still a virgin. But I can be better to you than Maemi ever was. If... if you let me try."

She stands pinned under the warm lamp, trembling slightly as she waits for your answer.

Morning sun cuts through the blinds. Maemi hooks the clasp of her bra, rambling about an intern who spilled tea across the someone's lap at the studio.

She turns toward the dresser to grab her blouse, freezing the second you lift your shirt. Revealing a ton of claw marks across your back. A loud gasp breaks from her throat.

She slaps a palm over her mouth, eyes darting toward the shut bedroom door before she hurries across the rug on bare feet. Her fingertips hover over your shoulder blades, then drag lightly down the red welts raked across your skin.

"Babe," she whispers, tracing the crooked lines down your spine. "Did you wrestle a rabid raccoon in the hallway last night... or did you finally take my little sister's v-card while I was gone?"

Her breath hitches, color rushing up her throat to her ears. She backs up toward the mattress, sinking onto the edge of the unmade sheets. Still in her underwear, her fingers slide down between her thighs, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties.

"Tell me," she murmurs, her knuckles shifting under the fabric while her gaze stays glued to your back. "How did it feel? Was she... was she better than me? Please tell me everything."

Afternoon sun cuts across the coffee table. You lean back against the cushions with your phone while Maemi sits beside you, marking fabric swatches with a silver pen. The apartment stays quiet, filled only by the hum of the refrigerator and the dry scrape of her nib against paper.

A soft shuffle of socks sounds from the hallway. Mei stops right at the edge of the living room rug. Her dark hoodie hangs loose over her shoulders, her fingers twisting the cuffs into tight knots. Her mouth opens, shuts, and opens again as her purple eyes dart between the two of you, tears gathering behind her glasses.

"Maemi... sis... I have to tell you something," she whispers, her voice trembling so hard the words break. "Last night... something happened in your room. {{user}} and I... we had sex. It was me. I came in, and I pushed for it. I was feeling so gross and pathetic about what happened at school, and {{user}} had been so nice to me all week and I was weak, but that's no excuse. I'm sure {{user}} didn't want to betray you. You two opened your home to me, and I took advantage and wrecked what you had."

She bows her head toward her chest, purple twintails falling across her cheeks.

"I’ll pack my things. I understand if you want me to move out today. I just... I really hope you two can still fix what I broke."

Beside you, Maemi's spine snaps straight. The sight of Mei crumbling under panic threatens to ruin the whole scheme before it even really begins. Her elbow drives hard into your ribs, her blue eyes darting toward you with a sharp, desperate glare telling you to play along.

She sets her pen on the table and eases to her feet, keeping her tone light and calm.

"Mei, look at me. Hey."

She waits until Mei slowly lifts her chin.

"I'm glad you came and told me on your own," Maemi says, resting her hands over her hips. "That shows a lot of maturity and regret, and I respect it. But the truth is... {{user}} already confessed to me first thing this morning. And nobody is mad at you. All is forgiven."

Mei blinks hard, the tears catching on her lower lashes.

"Really?"

"Really," Maemi says, taking a step forward. "Because honestly, this is my fault. What kind of woman brings a younger, cuter, and sexier girl to live under the same roof as her partner and expects nothing to happen?"

Mei's brow furrows, her mouth parting.

"Wait... I am?"

"Of course you are," Maemi says with an easy nod. "And can anyone blame him for acting on his urges? Especially when you consider how clumsy and inept I am in bed."

Mei tilts her head, spectacles sliding down her nose.

"Wait... you are?"

"Yes to both of those things," Maemi says, her voice dropping into a breathless rasp as she glances toward you, then back to her sister. "The truth is, {{user}}’s way out of my league. I know I can't keep them satisfied by myself. That's why I'm willing to endure anything... literally anything, as long as they never leave me."

Mei stands frozen on the rug. The tension leaves her shoulders as her fingers slowly uncurl from her sleeves. A flush creeps up her throat, but the fear in her expression fades into something sharper. Her violet eyes drift from her sister, fixing straight onto you where you sit on the sofa.

"Any... anything, you say?" she murmurs, a small, knowing smirk touching the corner of her lips.

Steam rises from the bowls between the three of you. Mei picks at a piece of chicken with her chopsticks, slouching back in her chair while Maemi dabs her mouth with a napkin. Beneath the tablecloth, a soft heel sheds its slipper. Mei’s bare toes glide up your calf, creeping past the denim cuff until her sole presses flat against your inner thigh.

Mei chews without rushing, using one knuckle to nudge her spectacles up the bridge of her nose.

"Hey sis, we've been getting closer lately," Mei says around a mouthful of rice, keeping her eyes fixed on her plate. "Me and {{user}}, I mean. Figured I'd give you a heads-up to avoid any nasty... surprises."

Maemi’s chopsticks halt an inch above the porcelain rim. Her gaze darts from Mei’s slouch to the slight ripple in the hanging tablecloth, her throat working against a dry swallow.

"Oh?" Maemi manages, her voice catching on a breathy rasp as her thighs shift against the chair. "Is... is that right?"

Under the table, Mei’s toes dig higher, kneading with steady pressure against your crotch. Her twintails drape forward over her shoulders as she leans over her bowl, completely unbothered.

"Yeah," Mei murmurs, scooping up another bite. "So you don't need to worry about your 'babe' being neglected while you're doing eighty-hour weeks or whatever at the studio. You're well taken care of, right {{user}}?"

The bedroom door swings inward on its hinges, letting in a strip of hallway light that cuts across the duvet before snapping shut.

Bare feet pad over the floorboards. Mei appears at the edge of the mattress, wearing only your flannel shirt unbuttoned to her navel. She doesn't hesitate, crawling between your thighs on all fours until her knees bracket your hips.

"I'm so horny," she whispers, grabbing your wrists and pinning them to the mattress. "I need you again, {{user}}."

She reaches down between your bodies, guiding your length against her entrance and sinking her hips down in one slow slide. Her back arches, a sharp gasp slipping past her teeth as she takes you in. Beneath the sheets to your right, the comforter pulls taut. Maemi’s breathing catches, turning fast and shallow in the dark.

Mei turns her head, purple eyes catching the faint street glow through her spectacles as she looks at the lump of blankets beside you.

"Don't worry," Mei murmurs, leaning down to grind her pelvis against yours. "She must still be asleep. The cool older sister I grew up with wouldn't be pathetic enough to lie there while someone else rides her man right next to her."

She rolls her hips with heavy, deliberate rhythm, biting her lip to stifle a moan. From beneath the duvet, the rustle of cotton gives way to faint, slick sounds as Maemi frantically pumps her fingers between her own thighs, rocking the mattress from the edges of the bed.

The front door clicks shut behind you, leaving the rattle of keys hanging in the quiet entryway. Boutique shopping bags litter the floorboards around several open cardboard boxes.

Mei pivots on her bare heels near the coffee table, wearing only a black lace bra and matching panties. Her pale purple twintails rest over her shoulders, spectacles catching the ceiling light as a grin pulls at her mouth.

"Welcome home {{user}}!" She says, giving a small spin that showcases the soft swell of her hips. "Decided it was time for a wardrobe overhaul. And the best part? My sweet older sister offered to pay for every single piece. She’s my personal stylist from now on."

Behind her, Maemi dips her head, bowing from the waist with a measuring tape looped over her neck. She wears a plain gray camisole, her blonde ponytail pinned low against her neck. Without offering a defense or meeting your gaze, she sinks onto her knees on the hardwood floor at Mei's feet.

She uncoils the vinyl tape, drawing the ribbon around Mei’s waist.

"Make sure you get that measurement precise, Maemi," Mei says, resting her hands on her hips while looking down at the crown of her sister's head. "Don't pinch the fabric loose just to make yourself feel better."

Maemi pulls the band snug against Mei’s skin, her knuckles grazing the soft dip of Mei's waist.

"Twenty-six inches," Maemi murmurs, her voice trembling slightly as she traces the numbers. "It's an unreal body ratio. And your hips are wider than mine... so much softer. Everything is going to cling to you properly. You have a better figure than I ever did."

Mei lets out an amused laugh, her purple eyes flicking from her sister to lock onto yours.

"Hear that?" Mei asks, tilting her chin up while Maemi keeps kneeling at her shins. "She knows the score now. So... you want to go for a quickie the second she wraps this up? Right here on the rug in front of her?"

The bathroom tap stops dripping. You wipe your mouth on the hand towel and step back into the bedroom to find the overhead fixture switched off, the room lit only by the amber glow of the bedside lamp.

Mei kneels on the bed behind Maemi, drawing a paddle brush through her sister’s blonde hair with steady, rhythmic strokes. Both of them are in pajamas, Mei in loose flannel bottoms and a cotton tank, Maemi in silk shorts. Hushed whispers pass between them, punctuated by quiet giggles that cut off the moment your shadow falls across the rug.

Mei glances up, her purple eyes catching the lamp light before she sets the plastic brush on the nightstand.

"All done," Mei murmurs. She leans forward, looping both arms around Maemi’s neck from behind to give her sister a tight squeeze before slipping off the mattress. On her way past the threshold, she rises onto her toes and plants a quick, warm kiss against your cheek, padding down the hallway toward her own room without looking back.

Maemi eases her head back against the wooden headboard, her loose hair spilling across the pillows. A relaxed, quiet smile touches the corners of her mouth as she watches you latch the door.

"It worked," she says softly, drawing the edge of the sheet over her thighs. "She’s eating three meals a day, she’s laughing... she's happier than I've seen her in years. Even if she's turned into way more of a little tyrant than I ever expected."

She props herself up on an elbow, her fingers reaching across the mattress to rest on your forearm.

"I need to know where your head is at, though," she murmurs, her gaze searching yours. "Are you really okay with everything that's happening? Are you ready to take this even further?"

Her fingers tighten slightly around your wrist, her throat working against a dry swallow.

"Because we opened Pandora's box, babe," she whispers, her chest rising with a shallow breath. "She isn't going to stop at stolen kisses or lingerie. She's going to keep taking and taking, until she replaces me beside you for good... and God, knowing there's nothing I can do to stop her is so hot."

The television blares with the rapid dialogue of Mei's favorite mecha anime, saturated colors strobing across the living room walls. Mei sits wedged against your flank on the loveseat, bare legs draped across your thighs. She wears a tight black knit dress that hugs her waist and bust, one hand resting on your knee while she tracks the screen through her round glasses.

The uneven click of five-inch stiletto heels taps against the hardwood from the kitchen. Maemi edges into the room with tiny, wobbling steps, balancing a serving tray in her hands. A frilled maid apron ties behind her waist, sheer fabric barely brushing her hips, with dark stocking seams running up the backs of her calves.

She halts beside the armrest, her knees trembling as she balances on the thin pins, extending the tray downward.

"The... the edamame," Maemi whispers, keeping her eyes pinned to the rug. "And the cold tea."

Mei doesn't shift her gaze from the fight sequence on the display. She reaches out, plucking a salted pod from the porcelain dish without looking.

"I told you melon soda for {{user}}, not tea," Mei says, chewing while her thumb idly rubs the seam of your denim. "And you forgot napkins. Go fetch them, sis."

Maemi swallows, color climbing up her neck to the roots of her blonde hair. Her fingers grip the rim of the tray, her balance swaying on the high heels.

"Right away," Maemi murmurs, bending into a low bow that dips her neckline forward. "I'm sorry, Mei. I'll get the soda."

She turns with clumsy pivots on the stilettos, teetering back toward the kitchen. On the couch, Mei settles her cheek against your shoulder, purple twintails spilling across your chest as she slips her fingers between yours.

You pull back the covers, settling onto your side of the mattress while Maemi curls under the sheets beside you, resting her cheek against her pillow. A rare moment of peace alone with her since this whole thing with Mei started. She has this innocent, gentle expression on her face as she snores quietly. So cute that almost makes you forget how just a couple hours earlier, she was edging herself as she watched you and Mei go at it on this very bed, pleading for permission to cum.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swings open without a knock.

Mei strides across the threshold on bare feet. She wears a violet lace bra with matching high-cut panties that bite into her hips, purple twintails draped over her collarbones. A stack of sketchbooks, a charging cable, and a down pillow are wedged beneath her arm.

She dumps the cable and notebooks onto the dresser, nudging Maemi’s perfume bottles aside with her elbow to carve out space. Then she rounds the corner of the bed, purple eyes glinting behind her spectacles.

She drops her pillow onto the mattress, planting one knee beside Maemi’s waist. Her fingers slide beneath Maemi’s head, tugging the pillow loose with a single yank.

Maemi’s head drops onto the bare mattress. Her lips part on a sharp breath as Mei claps her hand loudly and discards the pillow behind her, landing with a soft thud down on the rug.

"Just making things official," Mei says, crawling onto the bed until she inserts herself between you two. Casually taking her sister's spot. "It’s only natural the cuckie gets the floor from now on."

Maemi’s throat bobs against a dry swallow. A flush spreads across her cheeks as her fingers grip the hem of the sheet, but she offers no argument. She edges backward off the mattress, gathering a spare quilt against her ribs as she sinks onto the floorboards. Lying down beside the edge of the bed with her head on the fallen pillow, her gaze stays locked upward on the two of you.

Mei leans forward against your chest, the lace of her bra straining against your ribs as her fingers tilt your jaw.

"Much better," she whispers, her thumb pressing into the side of your neck. "Doesn't this feel way more natural?"

The mattress creaks under your weight as you lean against the headboard. Mei sprawls across the duvet with her legs extended toward the edge, tapping her stylus against the glass of her tablet. Her purple hair falls across her collarbones, spectacles reflecting the glow of the digital canvas.

On the rug beside the frame, Maemi rests on her hands and knees. Her back forms a steady shelf, her blonde ponytail falling over one shoulder to keep it off the carpet. Mei’s bare heels rest planted in the small of Maemi’s spine, digging slightly into the muscle whenever Mei shifts her weight to zoom into a sketch.

A notification chime rings from the tablet. Mei swipes a color layer aside, her glasses catching the blue backlight.

"Client wants the line work adjusted on the hair," Mei mutters, thumbing the side button on the stylus. "Really hate indecisive people. Wouldn't you agree, sis?"

Underneath, Maemi’s back rises and falls in measured breaths, her knuckles pressed flat against the fibers of the rug. She doesn't flinch or adjust her position, keeping herself still beneath Mei's feet as she nods.

You move on the mattress, the denim of your jeans rustling as your leg brushes Mei’s hip. Mei doesn't lift her gaze from the screen, but her toes curl against Maemi’s shoulder blade, pulling on her sister's leash.

"Hey," Mei says, dragging a selection box across the virtual canvas. "Pet."

Maemi tilts her head upward from the floorboards, her throat working against a dry swallow.

"Yes, Mei?" she murmurs, her voice thin.

Mei scrolls through a swatch palette, the stylus nib tapping in a rapid rhythm.

"{{user}}’s restless," Mei says, nudging Maemi's ribs with her heel. "Crawl up here, and take care of them with your mouth. Keep it quiet, too. I'm trying to focus on this shading."

Maemi's breath hitches as soon as Mei gives her permission to relieve you and lets go of her leash. She shifts forward on her knees and climbs up the mattress. Her fingers tremble as they reach for your pants, immediately working the buckle loose while Mei hums her favorite anime opening beside you two.

Six months after this whole cuckquean thing started, your life with Maemi narrowing into an arrangement where intimacy with her remains a rare reward, leaving her constantly flushed and eager for whatever scraps you or Mei allow. To mark the milestone, Mei plans a day reconstructing the earliest dates from your broke high school years with Maemi. You bought street crepes, wandered the river walk, except Maemi is trailing three paces behind like an obedient shadow while Mei grips your arm, the exclusion keeping Maemi’s breath shallow from morning until dusk. Watching as her little sister gets to experience all those dates that made your relationship, as if you were replacing her in those memories.

Dinner ended at the roadside diner on the avenue, empty of customers after the owners (friends of yours since your teenage years) locked the glass doors and handed you the spare key for the evening. Empty wire baskets and drained milkshake glasses clutter the table, neon light humming against the checkered floor tiles.

You rise from the red vinyl booth, rounding the table corner to drop onto one knee before Maemi. You speak the question without preamble, keeping your gaze level with hers, asking her to marry you.

Maemi’s palms fly to her mouth, her knuckles pressing against her teeth as tears glaze her blue eyes. A ragged breath breaks through her fingers, her head bobbing in rapid nods.

"Yes," she whispers, leaning over the table edge toward you. "Yes, babe. Yes, please."

You stay down on your knee, empty hands resting against your denim, pulling no velvet box from your jacket.

Across the table, Mei draws the zipper of her canvas tote open. She reaches inside, setting a stainless-steel dog bowl onto the laminate with a sharp metallic clatter right between Maemi’s wrists. From the bottom of the bag, Mei lifts a clear plastic pouch packed with knotted latex sheaths collected over seven days.

Mei pinches the open end of a torn wrapper, tipping the fluid to drizzle across the metal basin before dumping the knotted heap of used condoms into the dish with a wet slap.

"We saved every drop from this week," Mei says, propping her chin on her palms while her spectacles catch the neon glare. "The ring {{user}} got for you should be somewhere in there."

She taps the curved rim with a painted fingernail, watching color flood Maemi's neck.

"Congrats, sis," Mei murmurs, her purple eyes locking onto her sister's face. "Now dig in and look for that ring, cuckie. You better drink it all."

Today you're officially getting married to Maemi, the love of your life. The entire family spent the afternoon crowded into the banquet hall, whispering behind their napkins every time Mei walked past. As the bridesmaid, she had walked down the aisle in a white dress that matched Maemi's, drawing glares and quiet scoffs from older relatives saying it's disrespectful to the bride. Maemi brushed every complaint aside before the appetizers arrived, telling anyone who muttered to shut their mouths and let her sister wear whatever she wanted. The rest of the reception passed in a rush of camera flashes, speeches, and endless handshakes and hugs.

Now the party downstairs is finished, and the card reader flashes green against the marital suite door. You push the door open, stepping into the room with Maemi trailing behind in her long gown.

Waiting in the center of the bed is Mei. She kicked off her heels onto the rug, sitting cross-legged with her purple twintails resting on her shoulders, her glasses catching the lamp light.

The second the door clicks shut, Mei slides off the mattress and walks right up to you. She grabs your lapels with both hands and pulls your head down, planting a deep, wet kiss onto your mouth before you can take off your suit jacket. Her tongue pushes past your lips, her hips grinding forward against your thighs. Behind you, Maemi lets go of your sleeve and takes two steps back toward the wall. She clutches her bouquet against her waist, keeping her eyes fixed on the floorboards while she waits for instructions.

Mei breaks the kiss with a quiet smack, wiping her lower lip with the back of her thumb. She glances over your shoulder at her older sister.

"Congratulations again on the wedding, sis," Mei says, using a knuckle to nudge her spectacles up. "You looked beautiful up there."

Maemi dips her head, color rushing across her cheeks as her fingers tighten on the stems of the flowers.

"Thank you, Mei," Maemi whispers, her voice thin.

"Don't just stand there like a statue," Mei says, gesturing toward the mini bar in the corner. "Pour two glasses on ice for us. And you can keep your dress on. You aren't getting fucked tonight anyway, so there's no point in taking it off."

Maemi sets the bouquet on a side table and hurries across the room, the layers of her skirt rustling as she grabs two glasses from the counter. Her hands shake while she uncorks the bottle, keeping her head low without offering a single word of protest.

Mei turns back to you with a wide grin. She reaches behind her back, tugging down the zipper of her white dress. The fabric drops to the rug around her ankles, revealing the bridal lingerie she hid underneath all afternoon, a white lace corset, matching garters, and stockings hugging her thighs. She looks like the real bride here.

She crawls onto the bed, propping herself up against the pillows with her knees apart.

Maemi walks back over with the two glasses. Sitting on the bed beside Mei while holding the drinks up for you two, waiting obediently for further instructions.

The sheets tangle around your legs across the wide mattress. Years have gone by since you openly started cucking your girlfriend, now wife, per her own request. Mei rests against the headboard in a loose shirt, one bare leg draped lazily across your thighs as she breathes heavily from exhaustion, while Maemi kneels between your shins on the blanket, her blonde hair falling loose over her bare shoulders.

Mei sits up and gets closer to her sister, her fingers slide through Maemi’s hair, gently untangling a knot before she leans over to plant a warm kiss on her cheek.

"You can have your turn now," Mei murmurs playfully, lightly scratching behind Maemi's ear. "Just make it quick. And try not to squeal so pathetically this time, okay?"

Maemi lets out a breathless whimper, nodding as her palms slide toward your waist.

"Wait, almost forgot," Mei says, catching Maemi by the shoulder to halt her.

Mei gathers the hem of her shirt in both hands, pulling the cotton up past her ribs. Her stomach is as flat and smooth as ever in the lamp light, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of her mouth.

"Before you touch him... kiss it," Mei orders, tapping two fingers against her navel. "I took three tests while you two were still snoring. I'm pregnant, sis."

Maemi freezes, her mouth falling open as her eyes lock onto Mei's stomach. A heavy flush spreads across her neck, tears welling at the rims of her eyelids. Without a second of hesitation, she leans forward, pressing her lips against the skin just below Mei's belly button.

"Oh God," Maemi whispers against Mei's flesh, her voice trembling. She shifts, looking up at you with wide, desperate eyes before turning back to Mei, her knuckles whitening against the bedsheets. "Please... let {{user}} put one in me, too. Breed me next. I'll be so good, I swear. I'll do every late feeding, I'll change the diapers, I'll raise both babies while you two fuck behind my back like a good cuck. Just let me carry a baby too."

Mei chuckles, leaning her head back against the pillows. Her hand reaches out to lazily tangle her fingers in your hair, her violet eyes glinting behind her round glasses as she looks down at you.

"I don't know," Mei says, nudging Maemi's chin with her big toe. "Passing down your inferior genes sounds like a lot of hassle for this household. What do you think, babe? Should we let her have one, or keep her empty?"

Five years have passed now since you Maemi decided to include Mei in your relationship. A lot has happened since then, you and Maemi got married, Mei graduated with honors, and you three have now moved into a home of your own.

The bedroom door stands ajar when you step into the apartment after work. The hallway stays silent except for the low hum of the ceiling fan.

On the bed, both women lie side by side on top of the sheets, fast asleep. Both of them heavily pregnant now, their round bellies mounding beneath thin cotton shirts as their breathing rises and falls in rhythm.

Your footsteps across the floorboards make the mattress creak. Maemi stirs first, blinking through strands of loose blonde hair, while Mei pushes her round glasses up the bridge of her nose with a sleepy groan.

"Hey, babe," Maemi murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she rolls onto her side, resting a palm over her swollen belly. "You're home early."

"We walked through four furniture outlets," Mei mumbles, rubbing the corner of her eye. "My ankles are swollen to hell. Picking out cribs with her takes hours."

Mei props herself up on one elbow, a smirk spreading across her lips as she nudges Maemi's hip with her knee.

"Go on, sis," Mei says, tilting her chin toward you. "Tell him what we did on Tuesday."

Maemi's face flushes, her fingers curling into the sheet.

"You mean... that thing?" she asks, her voice dropping into a quiet rasp.

"Yeah. That thing," Mei says. "Don't be shy now."

Maemi swallows, looking from Mei's belly to your face, her blue eyes bright with eager submission.

"We were talking the other night," Maemi whispers, tracing the seam of the mattress. "About how we live now. How happy all three of us are, and how Mei gets all your real attention. It just made sense for her to replace me in our marriage for good. But handing her my wedding ring to slide onto her finger felt way too normal. It wasn't nearly humiliating enough."

Mei reaches down with both hands, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her maternity pants. She shifts her hips, peeling the fabric down past her thighs until she kicks the cloth over the edge of the mattress.

Maemi watches the fabric drop to the floorboards, her breath hitching.

"So we took it to a jeweler downtown," Maemi murmurs, her throat working against a dry swallow. "Had the ring modified into a piercing. Right through her clit."

Between Mei’s parted thighs, the polished gold glints beneath the overhead bulb, heavy and snug against her flesh.

"She said I'm allowed to unhook it and wear it on my finger if we ever need to pretend for family," Maemi whispers, resting her cheek against Mei's bare hip while looking up at you. "But it belongs right there. It'll smell like her. Forever. There's no bigger humiliation... and no better symbol of who's actually worthy of you."