Sometimes it pays to be the youngest

Hannah’s words linger in the air, shrouding the whole room in silence. She really just blurted out a confession of her own perversion! You assumed she had the good sense not to alert her mother of incestuous occurrences under her roof. Your mind races, trying to think of a way to solve the obvious problem this causes. It’s way too soon. You know you can’t keep both members of your immediate family eternally in the dark about each other’s shifting relationships to you. At some point you’re bound to make a mistake, whether it’s misremembering schedules or letting too much slip verbally. While you’ve accepted this inevitably, you were counting on having more time to work your subjects before the truth came out.

You could try laughing it off, as though your sister disclosing her voyeuristic inclination is so obviously a joke and not a statement of fact. No, that won’t work. Your mother may avoid confrontation like the plague, but that doesn’t mean she’s oblivious. Plus, Hannah just became a bit of a wildcard from your perspective. Who knows if she would go along with your ruse or double down on exposing herself. Maybe if you act hurt and shocked, that will direct the blame away from you. You could pretend you’re just now learning of Hannah’s peeping at the same time as Mom. Is protecting your magic-aided family project worth throwing your sister under the bus? Not if she’s one of the people you want at the end of your marionette strings. Putting too much pressure on Hannah would tarnish the delicate trust you’ve just started building.

“Spring Flower, we don’t have to talk about this if you’re uncomfortable.” Your mother’s voice snaps you out of your anxious stupor. She’s leaning in close with a hand on your shoulder. You know that’s not the first thing she said, but you can’t remember what came before. Glancing back at your sister, she clearly knows she fucked up somehow, but also bears a puzzled expression. She’s looking at Mom like her body language will provide some clue. Despite the cause for concern, she hasn’t missed a beet picking away at her plate.

It will be easier to figure out how to proceed once you know how deep a hole you’re in. You’ll have to probe your mom for more information without saying anything too specific. You settle on, “Are you mad at me?” You let your genuine worry play out across your face, hoping to make the fear of blame more believable.

Your mother looks surprised for a second. “No sweetie, it’s not– I’m just worried. What do you want to do?” She backs off a little to give you space. The urgent grip she has on your shoulder melts into a soothing caress of the upper arm. You realize that in her eyes, Hannah is already classified as an unexpected aggressor, and you the innocent victim.

With this position as your starting point, you have a lot of leverage to guide the situation toward something favorable to you. You could even find a safe way to take the blame off Hannah, thus earning more trust with her. If you were to somehow convince your mom that she herself is the one out of line, she might even do something worth spending a ‘Clicker on.

Knowing how weak-willed your mom can be at times, you decide to take the most obvious approach. “Oh! No, I think it’s great that Hannah likes looking at me. It makes me feel so loved and appreciated, knowing someone in my family thinks about me that way.” You shoot Hannah a “you’re welcome” glance.

To her credit, Hannah picks up on what’s happening and jumps in to support your story. “Oh yeah, I read an article about how like, sexually flirtatious interaction between family can help develop confidence and life satisfaction.” Such an obvious lie, but you and Hannah both know that her chiming in to gang up on Mom is more important than believability.

The payoff of Hannah’s support shines through on your mom’s distressed face. She isn’t exactly convinced, but she is scared to disagree with an entire room. “O-oh ok, if you’re sure that was ok hun.” Your mother retracts her arm at this point. She adjusts into a pose that’s more defensive than comforting.

Time to spike her over the volleyball net of respectability. “Yes definitely! I–” You hitch your voice, trying to manufacture an image of a neglected daughter. “I understand why you might think it’s weird though, it is pretty out there.” You cast your gaze down dejectedly as you say “I’m just grateful Hannah understood.” You take this chance to also clandestinely unlock your phone and pull up the button for “Training Clicker.”

“No!” Mom sounds exactly as panicked as you expected. Your confidence grows as you hear “I think I get it too, watch!”

No matter what comes next, you’re sure you want to reinforce it.

Activating ‘Training Clicker’

You’re expecting some sort of new age remix of what Hannah said earlier; instead you feel your mom’s hand slide its way up your left rib cage all the way to your chest. The surprise from this incredible progress compels you to look up at her, just in time for her to strain out, “Mmm, your buds are so wonderful and soft darling.” She starts to grab what modicum of bosom is there, making an honest attempt at a loving grope.

Arousal clear in your voice, you let out a light gasp followed by, “Oh fuck, this feels amazing. This is amazing. You’re amazing mommy.” That definitely counts as praise, but you also want to be clear about what you’re praising her for. You take a second to calm down from the initial shock and compose your thoughts, hoping addendums are accepted. You look your blushing mom directly in the eye as you clarify, “It’s so amazing that you’re willing to get sexual with me.”

Praise to the universe for her power’s incredible delivery time, she immediately digs her fingers into your breast with greater fervor. She’s sitting up more straight, her lips are glistening, and she is clearly paying you all the attention in the world. There’s something adorable and pet-like about her excitement at those words of praise. Feeling inspired, you coo out, “Who’s the best mom in the world?”

Mom slowly retracts her hand. “I am?” She answers uncertainly, her voice a mixture of fear and hope, shame and desperation.

You make sure to quickly confirm, “Yep!” and enjoy the blushy grin it gives her. As the moment passes, you look over to see Hannah sitting motionless with her mouth agape. She definitely watched that entire exchange, but for once you actually find yourself smiling at her enjoyment. “That was fun!” you declare as though nothing were amiss. “Anyone else really hungry?”