No, just mess with her.

The high schooler plodded his way upstsirs. When he got to the second floor, he tiptoed to Amelia's door. Luckily it was already open a shred, so he peeked inside and saw Amelia lying tummy first on her bed. She was on her phone texting with a pillow tucked under her chin.

Paul smirked. Amelia always thought she had everything under control. This was the perfect time to sabotage that.

With a thought, he projected his cognizant suggestion out of his mind, imagining it entering his sister's. Then, to his happy contentment, a second later, she obliged.

One hand stretching across her back to leave her other tapping away on her digital keyboard solo, she dug her fingers into her buttcrack. A sight that many friends of his would kill to see more of, no doubt. She gripped it tight, and brought it back up with a sharp pull, the fabric clenched between her fingers as well as her behind as she brought her hand as far up the crook of her back as it could go.

Amelia's hand immediately stopped moving across her phone as the sensation hit her.

First, were the widening eyes.

Then, the hiss.

"Aahhh-ahh-ahhhhhgffff, stop stop stop!" One leg was being lifted towards her head as she adjusted herself, shifting to her side, even while her hand continued to pull her panties up her crack, flossing her butt. Paul's manic giggles were luckily stifled by her groans of discomfort, even as she continued to look like an acrobat miserably discovering an ineptitude for contortionism. Finally, the slap of fabric against skin reverberated against the walls. Her hand finally released her panties and PJ bottoms, the cloths smacking back over her skin, though still wedged up her asscrack.

Amelia, of course, half-sat, half-lay there not quite knowing what to say.

"Why did I just give myself a stupid wedgie?" Upon hearing herself say that outloud, the second mist of red that morning spread over her face. Flustered, she climbed out of bed, walked over to her closet, pulled the sliding door out of the way, and walked in. After a few seconds, Paul saw her PJ bottoms flying out of the doorway, sprawling across her mattress, and he got the idea. She was trying to change out of her clothes.

He snickered to himself, nose barely peeking through the door gap as he had another tingly idea.

Like that would help her now.

Take this, he thought, as another small vibration seemed to throb through the air.

Suddenly, her wardrobe blurred, and all of the clothes inside changed into tight, revealing, deliberately scandalous or skanky attire. There were booty shorts, shorts with 'SCAMP' embroidered across the back, miniskirts, more shorts, underwear that somehow passed for shorts, super tight leggings, leggings with crotch openings, and that wasn't even starting on the blouse half.

Finally, Amelia walked out, and Paul stifled another laugh. Mission accomplished!

His typically self-aware but consciously girl-next-door aesthetic preferring sister was now wearing a pink top with spaghetti straps that was effectively a rag, torn up on the bottom at a height that exposed her underboob, with a neckline that dipped into her fleshy cleavage, showing off the entirety of her smooth trim torso and nearly all of her back.

Below, meanwhile, were a pair of daisy dukes that tapered into a perfect V in the back, showcasing her tight bubbly butt cheeks in their partially revealed glory. She might as well have put on a swimsuit or G-string.

"There, that's better," hummed the girl as she took her phone and returned to the bed, adopting the same position as before. Only this time, the new get up put all her perfect dancer legs on display, along with that cheeky butt. Paul could only laugh at the thought of her seeing herself in this state with perfectly restored awareness. Slyly, he pulled out his own phone, and aimed it towards her.

"Say cheese, sis," he whispered, before pressing the shutter buton.