But that's okay, Tess has more plans.

Surprising no one, especially yourself, you let Theresa talk you into a few more purchases. Thankfully, they're small things; nothing to be missed. This includes a nice large pack of markers to keep you stocked, as well as a silver one in case you need to write on a dark surface. You spend a little time browsing with Theresa to pick a high quality pair of running shoes, though given how nice they are, you feel you might just have them be your everyday shoes. This sparks a thought from Theresa of you getting some nicer formal shoes for dates, but your wave that thought away quickly as heat rushes to your cheeks.

"Aww c'mon Bubby," she teases. "I'm sure there's a girl at school you'd like to impress. Or a guy, y'know, I don't judge." The doubt of your orientation makes you needlessly defensive.

"I like girls, sis!"

She just giggles again. "I know you do. Doesn't mean you might not like both."

Humoring your sister, you give it a thought. After a moment, there's not a guy in school, or even a celebrity, that doesn't make you shudder at the thought of being intimate with. "Nope, I think I'm straight, sis." Seems you garnered a mote of respect from her just for not denying it outright, given her approving nod. Huh.

"Alright, so who is it? There's no way there's not at least one girl you've got your eyes on." Ugh, you know that mischievous look all too well. Theresa isn't going to let this go until you indulge her. Well, you could order her to drop it, but that feels a bit excessive. Anyone who pays you any mind would know who you're fond of.

"Is it me?" she asks out of the blue. Clearly the shocked expression on your face and glowing cheeks were just what she wanted, sending her into a fit of playful giggles.

"N-No, it's not you, sis! God! It's, um..." You sigh. May as well get it over with. "It's Penny."

"Penny. Peeeennnyyyyyy...." She draws the name out, staring up at her own brow. "Penny who?"

While she stares up, your eyes watch your new shoes trodding down the mall path. "Penny Whitaker."

Theresa thinks a little bit longer before the light bulb goes off. "Oooohh! Yeah, Penny.... yeah, no, I don't know her." Tart. "What's she like?"

Where to start? You feel you could spend the rest of the day going on about Penny. Best to be concise, though, to keep Theresa from teasing you too much. "She's...hm. She's a senior, like me. Really pretty, kinda short. Wears glasses that make her eyes look really big. Redhead. She's always got on long sleeves, even in the warm months." You continue describing the girl of your dreams, but the words get muddy in your ears as you start to lose focus.

Diluting Penny down into a few curt sentences is hurting your heart. In your mind, you see her clearly as a plush, curvy goddess that walks and talks with an alluring mix of confidence and modesty. Pale skin dappled with freckles sits on a soft face with adorably bright green eyes. Any time you've seen her in the hall, she's always either smiling warmly or captivating someone in what must be a fascinating conversation. She must be popular, you imagine. Who wouldn't be drawn to those barely tamed red curls?

You're brought out of your daze by a pair of snapping fingers. "Helloooo. Bubby, back down to earth, please."

You jolt and look around, apparently in a completely different part of the mall. How long had you spaced out? Cheeks red, you glance over to see a smug grin on Theresa's face.

"Well, no doubt that you like her, that's for sure. You ever asked her out?"

"Nope," you reply sharply. "Never said a word to her."

"You've never spoken to her?! How do you even know that you like her? Is it just that she's pretty?"

"N-No, it's more than that!" You huff, anxiously sweeping your hair back with your fingers. "I see her around school a lot. We shared some classes in earlier years, but not this one. We have lunch at the same time, but I just look from a distance."

"That... is sad and a little creepy."

"Yeah, don't remind me." You cast a slightly hurt scowl over at Theresa. "Is there a point to this line of questioning?"

"Yes, there is. But before that, I need to go in here!" She points you toward a... a lingerie store?! You halt immediately, incredulous.

"Why in the world would I want to go in there with you??"

"Because it's fun! Besides, I really need a new set or two."

Finally, you put your foot down. "No. No way. I am not buying my own sister underwear." Crossing your arms, trying to harden yourself up in preparation for whatever pleas or puppy dog eyes Theresa gives you. As unpredictable as ever, though, Theresa gives you a calm shrug.

"Yeah, that's fine. You saved me money on those workout clothes, so I can pay for these myself. Just come with me!" ...Oh. That's actually a huge relief. You sigh and relax again now that you don't feel the need to brace for impact.

"Can't you just go on your own? I can wait on a bench or something." Now she turns on the pouty face, taking your hand and looking up at you hopefully.

"C'mon, please? I want a guy's opinion on them and I trust you to be honest about it. Besides, I'm rather curious about your tastes. It's a chance for me to learn some more about you!" What in the world is she up to? You sense an ulterior motive, but can't put your finger on what it is. With that in mind, you can't help but be a little curious.

"Ugh..." your head falls slack, shoulder slumped. "All you're going to learn is that shopping for lingerie makes me embarrassed." She's beaten you again.

How in the world does clothes shopping take so long? No, more specifically, how does clothes shopping stretch the minutes so far? Checking your phone so often as to have anything else to look at, you know it hasn't actually been more than fifteen minutes, but it feels like a goddamn eternity. Every clink and clatter of a hanger on the rack makes you bristle, wondering what new point of stress Theresa is going to add to your growing collection.

"Okay Bubby, what do you think of this one? I'm a D-cup in this brand!"

Every time. Every time, it's the same pattern, and it's starting to eat at your sanity. Theresa's pretty hazel eyes scan your face for a reaction as she holds a bra and panties set up to her front. You give it a look... and are immediately assaulted by your tragically vivid imagination, creating a visage of your sister in only the presented set of undergarments. That pretty white smile and full lips. Perky full breasts, full and toned hips and thighs, a smackably round ass, all wrapped up like a christmas present in whatever lacy, often revealing choice she's made next.

Every time. Every time you look, you turn red, you fumble out an uncommitted response of approval and turn your head away. She giggles softly, sets the set back on the rack, and finds something new.

This is not the kind of shopping she should be doing with her own brother. Perhaps if you'd already grown close and comfortable with each other, it might be different. If you'd shared these kinds of things sooner. If you'd not grown distant through her own cold meanness. Things as they are, this is ****.

So why don't you leave? She can't **** you to keep browsing. You own her, so why let her drag you around?

...You know why. You spurn yourself for it, but you know.

"Okay, this one looks hot. What'cha think about this one, Buuubby?" Why did she stretch that word out? Stupidly, you submit and take a peek her way.

Your jaw falls slack.

Whatever game she's playing, you just lost. You're pretty sure you've seen napkins that would cover more of her delicates than the piece she's holding up. Pale white and silver, two tiny triangles of solid fabric would be the only thing hiding her nipples from the world. Everything, and you mean everything else on this piece is some kind of flowery lace or little straps. A single strip of lace travels down the middle, wrapping around to do a pitiful job of concealing the wearer's mound below, flanked by a thin lattice of silver straps to form a garter belt. She's not holding any up, but you can easily envision a pair of matching stockings to clip to this piece. Wedding night porn comes to mind, far more vividly than you'd like.

No coherent answer escapes your lips. You cough and sputter, mumbling some nonsense while trying to shake that thought out of your mind. If you're not careful, you're going to stiffen up in the middle of the mall with your own sister. No matter what you do, curiosity and full-blown desire keep that image firmly planted behind your eyelids.

Theresa looks delighted, grinning deviously as a sultry chuckle hums in her throat. "I think I found a winner. It's a bit expensive, but it's worth it if I can knock the wind out of a guy before I even put it on. Thanks, Bubby!"

"...get it," you mutter.

Her eyebrows bounce up. "What was that?"

"I said I'll get it," you blurt out quickly. Startling her just a little, you swipe the lacy giftwrap from her hands and scrawl your name on the inside of the cups; the only solid space to write on. Boiling with frustration, you shove it back in her hands, giving her a second to let it sink in. "There. Go show that to the clerk so we can get out of here. And get a bag!"

With a surprisingly girly squeal, Theresa lunges forward and wraps her arms around you in a tight, giddy hug. "You didn't have to do that, really! I was gonna get it! Oh, but thank you all the same! You're so sweet, baby brother!" Ugh, that one makes you feel even worse. Stick to Bubby, sis. Planting an exaggerated, lip-smacking kiss on your cheek, Theresa practically skips to the front counter to claim "your" new lingerie.

You have definitely had enough shopping for one day. After a brief bathroom escape to calm down and a word with Theresa, you make your way out of the mall and back to Theresa's car with your haul of plundered goodies.