Playing Favorites – Chapter 3


Jacinda

What the fuck just happened?

That question must have resonated in my head a thousand times on the drive back. So much so I had a really hard time focusing on the road. I’m pretty sure I ran a red light, and I distinctly heard some driver screaming some bullshit at me about “giving way”. I should have just put the damn car in self-driving mode. 

At least I don’t ram Mom’s car when I get in our driveway. Dad’s in the living room as I enter the house. He’s vacuuming the carpet to get it rid of all traces of fur -a vain effort, in a house with three Hellhounds. His neck-length blonde hair is tied in a knot, and small beads of sweat are running on his forehead; I’m guessing he spent the day deep-cleaning the house. The smell of wax and various cleaning products on his clothes is further evidence of that.

“Hello, pup,” my dad says in his British accent. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Good. Fine. It was okay.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes. Yeah.”

And with this totally normal and relaxed answer, I climb up the stairs. From the corner of my eye, I see Dad rising an eyebrow. I run into my room and close the door. 

“No slamming the door, Jass!” I hear my sister Nova call through the wall.

“Shit!” I scream, slapping my forehead.

“One dollar in the swear jar!” my father calls from downstairs.

Goddamnit!

My sister’s room is right next to mine, which has created all kinds of fun scenarios in the past. Like when I got into the heavy metal scene. I didn’t realize how bad it was for her until she offered me some high-quality sound, wireless earbuds for my birthday, and insisted I use them.

I throw my bag on my bed, kick off my shoes, then start pacing around on my carpet. My heart has been going a mile a minute ever since… that happened, with no signs of slowing down. And that’s not the worst part. My whole body is heating up. Every inch of skin feels like it’s on fire, especially around my breasts. Does that jerk have heat vision or something? Am I running a fever?

Ah, fuck, I can’t take it anymore. I take off my top, and open my bra, releasing my chest. It feels a little better, but the heat is not just there. My thighs also feel like they’re going to combust. So my pants come off too, flying in the air for a few seconds before landing beneath my desk. I’m still pacing around like a lion in his cage. What the hell is wrong with me? That, too, is a good question. I ponder it as I decide to sit against the wall to calm myself down.

I close my eyes. The scene in the library plays again in my memory, in great detail. We were working on this new project, and that jerk was being his usual stubborn self, arguing with me about everything. Seriously, he always has to argue with me. Always has to be right about everything. Always has to have a better grade, too. Fucking smartass. And on top of that, I caught him staring at me whenever he thought I wasn’t looking. I could feel his gaze on my boobs, and on my ass; sometimes on my face. I didn’t say anything, because… because… Well, because I didn’t want to give him more reason to argue. Yeah. Oh, he would have loved that.

Ugh! And then he brought up that favor I owe him. He just casually brought up the topic of the physics assignment, just wondering what grade I got. Idle curiosity, I’m sure! Same reason he tried to sneak a peek on my computer in class. But he didn’t call in his favor immediately. Oh, no. No, he was perfectly happy staring at me in silence, letting me stew. No doubt he could have kept going for hours, if not days. I admit, I snapped at him. It’s true I’m not the most patient person, but Christopher has a way of really getting under my skin. So, I put him on the spot, told him to just say what he wanted from me.

That’s when he dropped the bomb. “I want to see your boobs”. Just like that! That pig. Not even ashamed to ask such a thing.

But I guess that’s not the craziest part. No, that would be what happened next. I grabbed him and dragged him somewhere out of sight, and I… Fuck, I still can’t make sense out of this. It’s like something awoke in me; something insane, something… primal.

I gave him exactly what he wanted. I pulled up my shirt and my bra, and let him gaze at my bare chest.

And gaze he did. I didn’t even see him blink. And that’s when the heat started rising inside me. I was huffing, my tail puffed up, my fur spiked up. My breasts became tender, and my nipples even got erect. Did he see it? I doubt he missed it. Hell, I doubt he missed any part.

I look down at my boobs, and lift them with my paws. Did he like them? Ugh! What am I thinking? Who cares whether he liked it?

Although, obviously, he liked it. Guys love boobs, that’s common knowledge. And I’ve got a damn fine pair. It’s not bragging, it’s a fact: I know my boobs are bigger than average, and not just a little bit. I’ve been made aware of that ever since I entered puberty -all too aware, in fact.

Yeah, he liked it alright. Must have loved it, actually. I could see clear as day how hard he was. And fuck if he isn’t well endowed. Seriously, what a jerk! Making me show my boobs, like that, on demand, like I’m some kind of… Ugh. He was staring so hard at them, too. He tried to touch them at some point. I mean, I think. He moved his hands towards one of them. What would he have done if I had let him? Would he have brushed them? Massaged them? Would he have rubbed my nipples, twisted them? Pretty sure he licked his lips, too. Was he thinking about…?

It takes me a moment to notice I’ve started fondling my boobs. They are tender again -or maybe still are-, and a lot more sensitive than usual. The tip of my claws circle my nipples.

Goddamnit, stop it! Stop being hot and bothered at the thought of that jerk touching your breasts. And don’t slide one of your paws down to your sex! Stop it, Jacinda. Bad girl!

But I don’t stop. I can’t. My pussy is slick with need. I push in two claws while biting my lower lip. Despite my conscious mind’s vehement protests, my subconscious directs my thoughts right back to Christopher. I try to picture anyone else, starting with my favorite male athletes, but it just doesn’t work. Eventually, I surrender.

Closing my eyes, I imagine that it’s him rubbing his hands on my tits. Hmmm, ffff… It feels good. Better than usual, way better than I’d like. I put my tail between my fangs and bite down to keep from moaning.

Damn that jerk. I can’t stop touching myself, and it’s all his fault. Damn his wavy black hair, damn his emerald green eyes, damn his nice cheekbones, damn his stubble. Damn his scent, with his natural musk, his citrus soap mixed with eucalyptus body spray, and a bit of sweat still. Damn his sleeve tattoos, and damn me for wondering if he has more tattoos on the rest of his body. He’s got a good body, too, not that I’ve seen much of it. He’s part of the baseball team, like his friend Manny, and it’s obvious he takes care of himself. Damn him for that especially!

In my lucid dream, he’s getting rough. He puts more strength in his grip as he plays with my breasts. I pinch my clit between two claws and rub it, gently at first, while my mind pictures his mouth, and his tongue. He moves his lips closer to my tit, teasing, taunting. His tongue pokes out, its tip sliding like a snake’s head, inching towards my nipple.

“Mmmmmmffffffuuuuuuck!” I mewl into my tail.

I slouch down, pent up, and somehow more frustrated than before. Spitting out my tail, I use it to wipe my sweaty brow. A bit gross, but I need to take a shower anyway. With a bit of luck, some cold water will help me recover my senses. Failing that, I’ll go jogging around the block; that always empties my brain. Wait, no. First I’m gonna jog, then I’m gonna take a shower. Gods, I really need to get my head right. After that, I’ll play some video games while watching some TV shows. As I gather my clothes, I hear my sister’s voice through the wall again:

“Would you mind not doing that against our common wall?”

“You heard?” I squeak, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks.

“Hard not to, you grunt a lot. I heard you say “jerk”. Was this about that hot jerk from college?”

“No! And he’s not hot.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Nothing!”

“To your great dismay?” I can hear her smirk through the damn wall.

“Fuck off!” I scream.

“Two dollars in the swear jar,” my dad says from the hallway. “The afternoon snack is served, girls. Don’t forget to wash your paws first.”

Double goddammit!

On my way to the living room, I pull out my phone and send three dollars to our virtual swear jar. Nova is half-lying on the couch, her nose stuck in a textbook. She’s wearing her full goth outfit and makeup, minus her clunky boots with numerous buckles. Dad has put several dishes loaded with three different kinds of cupcakes on the coffee table. One of them is light pink with what look like red pieces of meat sprinkled on it, the second one is dark brown, and the last one is blue, white, and red. I grab one of each kind and try the dark brown one first, taking a big bite.

“Oh, wow,” I mumble.

“Dark chocolate, salted butter caramel, and a hint of vanilla,” my dad says.

It’s so good it’s almost worth putting one more dollar in the swear jar. My dad has always been one hell of a cook, and recently he has decided to add baking to his list of talents. I go for the pink one next. Mm-hm. This one is so-so. Raspberry cream and bacon. Mom would probably have a syncope if I told her that, but I’m not a huge fan of bacon. Let’s try number three. Oh, this one is more complex. There’s… cherry, blueberry, and… hmm, some other kind of berry. Pretty good, but my award goes to the chocolate/caramel/vanilla one.

The cupcakes do a good job of keeping my mind away from Christopher… until I had to ruin it by thinking exactly that. I attack another chocolate cupcake, eating it so fast I barely chew. Then another.

“Jacinda!” Dad scolds me. “You’re leaving crumbs everywhere.”

“Muh?” I elegantly reply.

It’s true. There’s a small pool of brown crumbs all over my lap and on the couch around me. I wipe them into my cupped paw and swallow them.

“Sorry.”

“What’s wrong, pup? You seem a bit off, today.”

“I’m fine,” I say.

“Clearly,” my sister snorts.

“Is something going on at school?” Dad says, his eyebrows curving with worry.

“No, no, everything’s good. Grades are good, classes are good, everything’s good.”

Way to sell it, Jacinda.

“Is Mom home yet?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“No, she’s got a big meeting. She promised she’ll make it in time for dinner. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Jacinda, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Hey, Dad, today I flashed my tits to a guy in college, and it got me so horny I had to masturbate. Thoughts?

Yeah, nope. I love my dad too much to inflict that kind of shit on him.

“I know, Dad. I’m okay, I promise.”

From his expression, I can tell he doesn’t fully believe me, but he decides to drop the subject. We finish eating in relative silence.

“Okay,” I say when the last cupcake is gone -sorry, Mom, hopefully Dad will make more. “I’m gonna go for a run.”

“Wait, I’ll join you”, Nova says.

“What?… Fine.”

The block where we live is pretty hilly, which makes it great for cardio training. I usually jog about ten miles, but today I feel like pushing to fifteen, just to make sure I’ll go home too exhausted to think. Nova and I change into our jogging outfits -hers is, to no one’s surprise, all black- and start running. We’re not even three minutes into the course when she asks:

“So, that guy… What was his name again?”

I groan.

“Christopher.”

 “Right, Christopher. How long have you guys been doing your thing?”

“What thing? There’s no thing.” I start running a bit faster. Nova’s not as athletic as me, so I’m hoping she’ll tire quickly and stop that line of questioning.

“Huh-uh.”

“There’s not!”

“He’s pretty much all you talk about when we ask you about your classes. “That jerk gloated that he got a higher grade than me!”. “That jerk was staring at my butt again!”. “That jerk was sooo smug when he answered the teacher’s difficult question.”. Seriously, what did he do to you this time?”

I sigh and look up at the sky.

“It’s complicated.”

“We have time.”

Right.

“Remember that time I had to pick up Judith after she had that lousy date?” I say.

“With the douche who started hitting on the waitress right in front of her? Then asked her if she had “mixed genes” because it was a deal breaker for him?”

“Yeah. Anyway, she was pretty upset because it was her fourth bad date in a row, so I took her home, and we stayed the evening watching movies until she felt better.”

“How is she doing, by the way?”

“She’s okay. But she’s gonna stop trying to find a boyfriend for a while.”

“Well…” she smirked. “Give her my number. I promise I’ll treat her right.”

I don’t even answer that. Shortly before graduating high school, Nova announced to us that she was gay. This was met with very little surprise. You see, I often borrowed her computer back then, whenever I was grounded. And sadly for Nova, she wasn’t very good at covering her tracks, notably her search history. This led me to unearth some really funny items such as: “how to know when you’re gay”, “do straight girls kiss other girls”, “how to lesbian sex”, “how to lesbian sex guide”, “how to lesbian sex explanation”, and my all-time favorite: “how to lesbian sex real explanation not porn”.

(I actually tried looking that last one up out of curiosity. Yeah, it led to nothing but porn.)

“Anyway”, I say, “this made me completely forget about this physics assignment I had to turn in the next day. I was supposed to write the last part that night. It’s only when the teacher reminded us of the deadline that I remembered.”

“Damn. Hope that didn’t tank your average too much.”

“No, actually I managed to finish in the nick of time. Got an A.”

“Nice. So how does Christopher fit in all this?”

I gnaw on my lip.

“He helped me get the A.”

“How dare he!”

My response to that is to pick up speed again. Nova’s still keeping up, but there’s more where that came from.

“Wait, how did he help you?”

“He sent me his assignment so I could use it for reference. I spent the hour in class finishing up.” Grumbling, I add: “Probably couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Pretty nice of him. Maybe he doesn’t hate you like you say he does.”

“As if!” I say. “He only did it because I said I’d owe him.”

We enter the small park that sits a few streets away from our house. This means we have done roughly one third of our jog. I deeply inhale the smell of pine trees and sunflowers, slightly altered by that of several not-so-recently-showered kids running around the park.

“Work those fine asses, girls!”

My head jerks towards whoever shouted that. It’s a man, in his forties, sitting on a bench, with what’s probably his son beside him. The jackass is smiling broadly at us, almost making a show of looking us from top to bottom; he even gives us a thumbs up. Catcalling teenage girls in front of his kid. Real class act. The fur on my neck irks, my tail shoots up straight, and I throw him my deadliest glare, but my sister nudges me.

“Ignore him.”

She doesn’t so much as slow down as she passes by the Father of the Year. I keep my eyes laser-focused on the path in front of me, focusing on my breath. Nova’s right. I have to ignore that bastard, and ignore the fact that he’s almost definitely staring at our asses. And more importantly, I have to push back the memories. Push back the anger. I can control it. It doesn’t control me. My skin crawls and my throat burns, but I just keep on running.

We pass the park in record time. Nova is a little winded, so I slow down to let her recuperate.

“You did great,” she says.

“Thanks. It’s getting easier.”

“It is? I’m glad.”

A mile later, Nova decides to resume our conversation, just as I was beginning to hope she wouldn’t, as we are getting to the last part -the crazy part.

“So is that all that happened? You owe him a favor and it got you all riled up?”

I feel myself blushing again. Before I can decide whether I’m going to lie or just dodge the question, she adds:

“Wait… Or are you riled up because he used that favor?”

Damnit. I know she’s my twin sister, and we’ve been joined at the hip since forever, but it’s really scary how she can read me sometimes. She can be worse than Mom at this game.

“What did he ask you to do?”

I suddenly feel like sprinting. Nova does her best to catch up. I keep running until I reach the neighborhood’s highest point. I take in the great view offered to me. Through the trees, in the distance, I see the bay, its waters shimmying under the sun. I breathe in deep, trying to smell the faintest hint of iodine in the air -without success.

“Hey!” Nova calls, arriving seconds later.

She leans on her knees and exhales loudly.

“Jass… He didn’t make you do anything wrong, did he?” she asks, worried.

“He asked me to show him my tits,” I say rapidly.

Nova’s eyes open wide.

“Oh…”

“And I did it,” I conclude, trying to make it sound like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Oh,” she says again. The expression of worry in her gaze softens into one of glee. “Ooooh,” she adds.

I hide my face in my paws.

“And then, when I came home, I had to masturbate. Gods, what’s wrong with me ?”

“If you’re asking me,” my sister says, smiling wide, “I’d say you’re a wee bit horny for the hot jerk.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, come on.” She moves behind me and puts her paws on my shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with you. On the contrary, I think that’s good.”

“Good? I’m exposing myself in a library and that’s good?”

“In a library? Kinky.” She smirks. “But yes, it is good. It means you’re over Xa-”

I glower at her.

“… You’re over That Little Bitch Who Shall Never Be Named Again,” she corrects herself. “You’re ready to go and put yourself out there again.”

I think about these words in silence for a little while. Am I ready? That thing with That Little Bitch Who Shall Never Be Named Again (or TLBWSNBNA for short) hurt me. Pretty badly, in fact. Therapy has helped, but all the same I didn’t expect to feel ready to date again before… Well, actually I never considered I might ever date again. A part of me just assumed I was done with that, I guess.

But… no. No, no, no. That’s just… no. Nope. Nuh-uh. Hell nah.

“So… what’s your next step with the hot jerk?” my sister asks.

“What? Nothing.”

“You’re going to wait for him to make the first move?”

“There’s no next step, there’s no next move,” I say vehemently. “I went crazy for a second -well, for three minutes-, and that jerk exploited that, but it’s over. Don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did! I fu- I saw you.”

“Look, I’ll say it again: there’s nothing wrong with crushing on that Christopher guy.”

Crushing? Where does she get that from?

“Yes, there is, which is why I’m not crushing.”

“Ah, come on,” Nova says, rolling her eyes again, making me want to pluck them out of their orbits. “He’s all you talk about since the beginning of the year.”

“No, he’s not!”

“Right, right. Guess denial is all I’ll get from you today. Do you want to know what you’re going to do?”

“I don’t need your advice.”

“Oh, this isn’t advice. Just a little prediction based on the fact that I know you. You’re going to refuse to address your feelings, or even acknowledge them, and let them build up inside. Then, you’re going to take it out on him.”

“What the Hell does that even mean?”

“It means you’re going to piss him off because that’s the only way you can think of to get a reaction from him.”

“That’s stupid,” I mutter.

“Completely stupid,” she says with her insufferable know-it-all smirk. “And it’s what you’re going to do. Come on, let’s go home.”

She takes off running. Pissed off, I chase after her, and we basically end up racing back to the house. I win, of course. Sadly, the run did not have the intended effect at all. My mind is still not clear of parasite thoughts of Christopher. There’s more of them, actually, and they’re more developed. I blame my sister for putting them in my head. Damn her too! Like she even knows anything about heterosexual relationships…

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