Sister Standards

Kieran stood in the hallway outside Celeste’s bedroom, the carpet soft beneath his bare feet, the air scented faintly with lavender from the diffuser in the corner. His hand hovered near the doorknob, chest rising and falling with the shallow, nervous breaths he didn’t realize he was taking.

The box still haunted his mind—every item, every label, every implication. What the hell is she trying to say? he wanted to barge in and demand answers, let the anger boil over. But… that wasn’t what Kiara would do. And lately, Celeste had made it clear: it didn’t matter how Kieran felt. It mattered how Kiara behaved. Losing his temper now would just give Celeste more ammo, more cause to tighten her grip.

So instead, he closed his eyes and summoned the practiced posture: shoulders gently back, not stiff. Spine straight. Neck long. Chest forward but soft. A small, serene breath through the nose. And then he brushed a lock of his now-cooperatively soft hair behind his ear, and knocked. Gently. Like a lady.

“Celeste?” he called, voice light and just touched with sugar.

“Mmhmm, come in!”

He turned the knob and stepped into a space that looked like it had been conjured out of a luxury spa catalog—cool tones, white florals, velvet textures. Celeste sat cross-legged on her bed in a silky robe, her hair up in a casual twist, no makeup but somehow glowing. She looked up from her tablet and smiled like Kieran had just brought her a bouquet.

“Hey, sis,” she said sweetly. “You look cozy.”

“Thanks,” Kiara replied automatically, stepping in with a soft sway in her hips—natural now, not thought about. She crossed the room slowly, barefoot, keeping her motions smooth. Every instinct screamed to just say it, but she kept her smile gentle and tapped into that tone she’d learned to mimic so well. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course.” Celeste sat up straighter, patting the bed beside her. “Is everything okay?”

Kieran sat delicately, knees together. Even his fingers moved differently now—delicate, careful. It felt subconscious. Familiar. Trained.

He tilted his head slightly, placed a hand in his lap, and let the smile falter just a little. “So… I got home, and I saw you refilled my pill planner. Thanks for that.”

Celeste beamed. “Of course! We don’t want you falling behind. You’ve been doing so well.”

He nodded, biting back his inner tension. “Yeah… I took everything. Every single day.” He paused, then added, more carefully, “And there was a box under it.”

She blinked, clearly playing innocent. “A box?”

His lips pursed, his voice still soft. “With toys in it. Like, sex toys.”

“Oh!” she said with a delighted little laugh, reaching for her tea. “That box. I was wondering when you’d notice.”

“You left a note on it,” he said, still trying to keep his tone even. “It said, ‘for you sis.’”

“Well, yeah,” she said like it was obvious, taking a sip. “You’re my baby sister, and I figured, you know… you might be too shy to get anything like that yourself. But every girl has her needs.”

Kieran blinked. Hard. “Celeste—”

“It’s not a big deal,” she interrupted, voice airy and warm. “You’re growing into your body, Kiara. Things are shifting. I just thought you might need a little… help.” She smiled innocently, then tilted her head. “Why? Did you not like them?”

He stared, heart pounding, brain screaming—but none of it showed on his face. He just gave that same soft, practiced, submissively polite Kiara smile. The one she had trained into him.

The room was too warm. Or maybe that was just him again. That odd, floaty feeling had returned, like his head wasn’t screwed on quite right. His chest felt tight. His thighs, bare beneath the silk, were pressed together without thinking.

He folded his hands neatly in his lap, nails painted a soft nude pink, legs together, posture flawless. From the outside, he was the image of calm.

But behind his carefully composed expression, his pulse was hammering.

“I’m just…” he began, pitch gentle, tone honeyed. “I guess I’m a little… surprised. By what you chose to put in the box.”

Celeste blinked at him, eyebrows raised, still the picture of innocent indulgence. “Surprised? Why?”

Kieran gave a soft laugh, the kind a demure girl might use to smooth over tension at brunch. “I guess I thought maybe… I don’t know. If I had needs—if I needed help—you’d maybe… uncage me. Or… something.”

Celeste just giggled, the sound airy and amused. She took another sip of her tea and tilted her head at him like he’d just said something adorable and deeply naive.

“Oh, sweetie,” she cooed. “That’s not how a lady learns to touch herself. You think I was going to get you toys for boys?”

Her voice was light, teasing—but beneath it was steel. Kieran swallowed hard, his smile faltering for the first time. His thighs squeezed together again, not on purpose. That persistent, maddening warmth in his belly pulsed and coiled.

Celeste leaned back on her elbows and stretched out her legs like a cat. “You need to start learning how to please yourself like a grown-up woman, Kiara. With your body. With what you’ve got.” She gave him a sly smirk. “Not what you used to think you needed.”

His mouth opened slightly, and for one perilous second he nearly—nearly—broke character.

But he didn’t. His fingers tensed in his lap, nails digging gently into his palm. Then, calmly, with a practiced breath, he asked, “So… that’s why you picked those things? You thought that’s what I would want?”

“Of course,” she said breezily. “I mean, I thought about the kinds of toys I like. What works for me. And I figured, well, you’re my baby sis. You’re probably similar in some ways. So, I just… applied my tastes. The vibe is one of my favorites. Cordless, waterproof, and quiet.”

Kieran blinked rapidly but smiled—just enough. He hated that he knew exactly how to tilt his chin, how to lift his cheeks so it didn’t look strained.

Celeste set her tea down and added with a little shrug, “I mean, I didn't even think about giving you a strap-on like the one I have. That’s more for girls who want to… you know.” She raised an eyebrow. “Use it. On other girls. So that's not for you.”

Kieran’s breath hitched. His smile twitched.

Celeste didn’t seem to notice—or pretended not to. “Anyway,” she said brightly, “what’s in the box should get you started. You’ll thank me later.”

There it was. The dismissal. That casual finality she always had when she decided something was “settled.”

Kieran nodded slowly. Then, from somewhere deeper than he expected, he conjured the perfect smile again. Full of gratitude. Perfectly poised. “Thanks, Celeste,” he said softly, tucking a loose curl behind his ear. “That… really means a lot.”

Celeste smiled proudly, brushing his knee like a proud older sister. “Of course it does, baby girl. Good night.”

“Good night,” he echoed sweetly, rising with that gentle, instinctive sway in his hips, posture straight without thinking, feet barely making a sound on the floor as he left her room.

He closed the door behind him quietly.

Then stood in the hall, heart thudding, teeth clenched behind his flawless Kiara smile—still glowing faintly from the inside out with frustration, confusion, and something else he wasn’t ready to name.

Kieran shut the door quietly behind him, the soft click of the latch far too gentle for the fury buzzing in his chest. His breath came fast, shallow, and he **** himself to exhale slowly, to slow his thoughts, to stop himself from screaming into the silk pillowcases or throwing the stupid box of toys across the room.

He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, fists digging into the thick comforter, glaring at the pill planner like it had personally betrayed him. Those pastel capsules—harmless-looking, carefully arranged by day and time—mocked him with their precision. He’d swallowed them dutifully, because Celeste had said they were "just supplements to keep him balanced."

But balanced how? His body felt like it was floating, humming, constantly turned on but with no outlet. The cage throbbed in steady pulses, not painful, just there, always reminding him of its presence. His thighs pressed together again, instinctively, betraying him.

This isn't normal.

This isn’t me.

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to shut it all out—the ache, the confusion, the quiet, humiliating heat that was always just under his skin lately. And the box. That goddamn box Celeste had left on the dresser like a gift. Open now, its contents laid bare: silicone, glass, plugs, lubes, toys—feminine, pastel-colored things that made his stomach twist.

He stared at it for a long time, his jaw locked so tight it ached.

“No,” he muttered aloud. “No fucking way.”

His hand trembled as he picked up his phone and opened a private browser. There had to be another way. He refused to believe this was the only path. He searched frantically:

how to get off in chastity

how to remove male chastity cage without key

how to climax without penetration

male orgasm with cage no dildo no anal

He clicked link after link. Reddit threads, obscure blogs, ancient forum posts from the early 2000s. Some offered advice he couldn’t use—dangerous, complicated methods involving bolt cutters or ice. Others... he scrolled faster past those. Too many just said the same infuriating thing: “Embrace it. Submit. Let go.”

Let go how? By riding a fucking dildo? Like that was supposed to make him feel like himself?

His breath hitched in frustration. He was rock-hard inside the cage now, the pressure mounting with no release, and the worst part was—he didn’t even know if it was real desire or whatever the pills were doing to him.

He tossed the phone onto the comforter. His hands trembled in his lap.

There’s no way I’m doing that. Not like that. I’m not some girl who fucks herself to sleep with a goddamn dildo and pretends it’s pleasure. I’m not…

But his body didn’t seem to agree. It leaned forward, twitching, aching. Every move lately felt choreographed. Too graceful. Too soft. The way he crossed his legs now, the way he spoke without thinking, even the way he breathed felt wrong. Felt… trained.

But his mind—his mind—was still his.

“I’m not using those toys,” he whispered to no one. “I don’t care what they want. I don’t care what they did to me. That’s not who I am.”

The silence didn’t argue.

He stood up and paced the room, jaw clenched, chest tight, every step a war between rage and helplessness. The cage pulsed with each heartbeat, and he fought the urge to cry out or collapse.

He was ****. Alone. Trapped in a body he didn’t recognize, under rules he hadn’t agreed to. Every door out had a lock he couldn’t pick. But even if he didn’t have a plan… even if he didn’t know what came next…

One thing was certain.

He would not use the toys.