Ernest narrowly escapes.

What was this... feeling she had?

Clarissa had grown up just a touch nervous about the monkey-like horniness of her brother while they grew up: he had the curiosity and the lack of restraint one could expect from a youth, taking peeks when he thought no one noticed and gropes when he didn’t think anyone would be offended. Like (most) youths, he learned shame, the foundations for respect, grew up, and got over it, and Clarissa was eventually spared from his weird demands to play Doctor... though it was a convenient trick of memory to forget her moments of excitement and curiosity, or socially-spurned fantasies, during those little medical sessions...

But Ernest was not an option. Ernest was her little brother, the butt of a few jokes and her best audience for the rest. He had lost his love of laughter, unlike her, but they remained siblings. They were siblings, Clarissa had very clearly marked in her mind... and so she was stuck, mentally arguing with herself in a stupor as she felt her heart racing, her sex engorging, and her sleeping panties suddenly feeling a bit endangered by an oncoming moisture. Why did she suddenly feel so... excited to be seen by him? To touch nothing but his arm?

Luckily, Ernest caught on even in the dark that hid her blush. He spun on his heel to escape her touch suddenly—her hand tried to follow him before she knew what she was doing—and he gave his sister the awkward finger-guns.

“Good night, sis,” he whispered in his best effort to sound casual. It didn’t sound casual, but he was off half-running to his bedroom anyways.

Clarissa was left mystified in the hall... and her face grew even hotter. He knew. How did he know?! Was she that... obvious?! What was she even obvious about?! Clarissa fled into her room, mortified and ready to cry in a panic as she tried to understand why her panties were suddenly wet.

Jessica didn’t bother putting panties on just yet: her house was empty, she was squatting in her bath, and now she was pumping her fingers desperately into the entrance of her snatch as she tried to get off. She tweaked her nipple, she happily moaned--free of the mortification of being caught--and she closed her eyes and imagined Brad Myer. She tried to think about their beautiful night once the two became Prom King and Queen and-

“Why isn’t this working,” she whined in anger. She continued to touch herself, to pinch herself hard, and to forget about her dilemmas if only for one brief moment of respite. She wasn’t a **** genie in her dreams, and Ernest wasn’t her Master... yes... Ernest was just... a fellow student. No pressure, no guilt, no worries... happy to please her, happy to squat between her legs and... and give her a tentative lick...

“Mmmm,” Jessica had softly moaned, and for now, she allowed herself a different kind of fantasy.

“Fuck,” Clarissa grunted into her pillow as her ass slammed down against her wall.

The suction cup on her dildo had popped off the wall in the middle of her fucking it. She had indeed perhaps a bit too violent with it; did her brother really move her like this? Clarissa had scoffed at the idea; whatever weird dream she had that had become this odd idea in the middle of a weekday night, it too would pass... but right now she needed relief, and right now she got it by imagining that horny kid brother railing her all throughout their childhood, all throughout those non-sisterly thoughts she would never admit, and now by entering her room, entering her, and fucking the ever loving-

“Mmmpf!” She had taken the pillow into her bathroom, and good thing too: she was now groaning into it as the suction cup-backed dildo popped off the wall from the **** of her ****. Clarissa slowly maneuvered to sit on the ground once she knew it wouldn't reattached to the wall without taking the rubber cock out of her first; with her burning labia against the cold tile of her bathroom floor, she bucked and thrusted her hips as she viciously attacked her birth canal with the fake cock, her fluttering eyes seeing some muscular edition of her brother being the virile beast beneath her.

It was a close one... but Ernest was pretty sure he didn’t have any lasting effect on his sister.

He sat in front of his PC now trying to figure out how to proceed. What would happen when his mom kissed him goodbye tomorrow morning? When he was at school bumping into people? Randomly touching passerby’s? He thought his touch would have to be an active thing—like a touch attack in D&D—not something closer to Rogue’s mutation in X-Men! He nearly decided he’d text Jessica in the morning and ask permission to change it... and then considered how much harder it would be to seduce her if he didn't even last twenty-four hours without demanding a wish.

Meanwhile, Jessica didn’t seem affected by his pheromones (if they did anything at all), or his 'type' wishes... so could he really afford to lose this power? If he wished for a Jessica-only Edition, she’d probably be extra pissed with him, too...

Ernest sighed as he looked around his room. He had some thin butler gloves from an unfortunate cosplay in one of the drawers, he could avoid touching his family (or Rocky? Jesus Christ would he arose animals? BACTERIA?!) and any incidental touches at school wouldn’t really result in anything... right? Long sleeve shirts it was. Who touched people’s heads in public? No one he had to worry about, he decided. Ernest could get through this; it’d only be until Saturday, right?