My name is Charlie. The following short story is based on a sci-fi story I read a few years ago. I don’t remember the name or the author. The author supposed a world where female children stopped aging at 10, effectively ending the human race in a single generation. The cause was a lab-created bacterium released throughout the world via aerosol sprayed from aircraft. The bad guys turned out to be idealistic fanatics. This was back in the 40’s, I think, before anyone ever heard of Islamic terrorists.

The idea always intrigued me: what if a virus stopped sexual development of infected girls in its tracks at age 10 or 11. They continued to develop physically, but without changes wrought by puberty. They could never have children, would never develop breasts, have pubic or underarm hair, and would have only a stunted sexual awareness or interest in sex. Or so doctors assumed.

Suppose you were one of the infected girls at age 15? Suppose you had a brother that loved you enough to let you explore your stunted sexual awareness through, and with him. Suppose the act of exploration triggered what everyone assumed you couldn’t experience: sexual arousal?

Admittedly, this story pushes SOL’s guidelines on age. However, Rebecca is physicality 15 years old, and thinks like a 15-year-old, wanting what all 15-year-old’s want: acceptance. Her body is sexually undeveloped, but not her mind. She wants what she wants, and turns to her 17 year old brother to get it.

The story is set in the near future and seesaws between Wednesday, September 4, 2024, and, Wednesday, September 18, 2024, when the story begins.

Wednesday, September 18, 2024, 3:44 pm

Rebecca was in bed with her older brother, Robbie. “I thought it would hurt more,” she whispered. Robbie was in her, all the way, but remained completely still.

“I can’t believe I got in you, at all. You sure it doesn’t hurt?”

Rebecca grinned wryly. It had hurt like hell, she wouldn’t tell him how badly.

A 10th-grader, Rebecca attended Lucy V. Dale High School with her brother. Robbie was 2 years older and 41 pounds heavier than she. Their fledgling sexual relationship was 2 weeks old now. It began September 4th, the 2nd day of school for both. This was her first time in bed with her brother, having sex. She was rightly scared to death.

“Mom won’t find out, right?” she fretted.

Robbie smirked. “Not unless you write everything in your stupid diary, again.”

Rebecca flushed. It’s how mom discovered she’d smoked marijuana with Rachael and Emily in July; it earned her a month’s grounding. Mom would turn her bare bottom into raw hamburger for doing this, she thought. Probably in front of Robbie.

“You are so tight. I can’t believe how tight you are. This must really hurt, Becca.”

Rebecca flinched as he shifted atop her. Robbie was 5’9” and weighed 141 pounds. She stood 5’4” tall, and weighed 41 pounds less. This all evolved from playing Strip-Crazy-Eights two weeks ago after school. Insanely, the initial suggestion they play was hers; she wanted Robbie to see her naked.

“Are you all the way in me?” she asked tremulously.

“It feels like it. How’s it feel, Bec?”

She squirmed beneath him, wiggling her hips, adjusting her legs to insure his deepest penetration. She hadn’t known for certain they’d do this until this afternoon after school. Remembering how he’d taken her hand just inside the front door, pulled her upstairs to her bedroom and undressed her, she pecked him on the lips. He kissed her back. Then he kissed her again, for real, the way a boy kissed his girlfriend. She moaned, writhing beneath him, now. He laughed softly as she shuddered convulsively.

“I’m not sure any 5th-grader should know how to orgasm, Rebecca.”

Embarrassed, she colored. Like all Reynes’ Syndrome girls, she had no breasts, no pubic or underarm hair, the unfeminine shape of an 11-year-old, if not her stature. She hadn’t developed sexually in 4 years. Unless a cure was found, she and the other Reynes’ victims never would.

The virus causing Reynes’ Syndrome first appeared in Truro, Cornwall in 2009; the year Rebecca was born. She contracted the virus through a mosquito bite in 2015 while on vacation in Exeter. No one knew or suspected the devastating developmental issues awaiting infected girls until 2020, when the first cases of Reyne’s Syndrome appeared. Until then, the illness was thought to be relatively harmless: a slight fever accompanied by swelling of the joints and a rash emanating at the bite location. Symptoms typically abated in 7-10 days.

In 2021, the truth became known: Truro stopped sexual development of 10 to 11 year old girls in its tracks. Now 15, Rebecca and her fellow victims numbered more than 1,700,000, with some 27,000 young girls residing in the US. All had the sexual development on an 11-year-old.

“Please don’t call me a 5th-grader,” she crabbed. “You know I hate that!”

Though sexually stunted, Rebecca, like other Reynes’ victims, kept pace mentally and physically with her peers, so emotionally, she was a mess.

“I want to cum in you,” he whispered.

“I want you to cum in me too,” she whispered back. She loved her brother’s cock inside her. She loved her brother. That made her orgasm possible, she guessed. What passed for orgasm in a prepubescent body, anyway.

“I won’t get you pregnant,” he teased.

That made her color again. “We have to be careful. If something goes wrong, Mom will know exactly what we did. I can’t even think about Mom knowing we did this, Robbie.”

Robbie kissed the tip of her nose. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, and then her earlobes, both sides of her neck, and her collarbones. His kisses made her tremble uncontrollably and feel weak. It felt like his cock grew inside her like a balloon. Was that possible?

“This is probably not a good time to bring this up,” he said, “but 11-year-old’s can get pregnant.”

“What?” she gasped.

“I looked online. You don’t have to worry, if you haven’t started having periods yet.”

You fucker, she thought. You did this just to torment me.

“You know I haven’t started yet, Robbie! I don’t have boobs—I don’t have anything to start with!”

He laughed. “You have a cock in your pussy. That’s a good start.”

She fumed: “Don’t call it that! You know I hate that word.”

“Your cunt then? Can a pussy like yours be called a cunt?” Laughing, he stifled her protest with a hand over her mouth. She glared up at him. He laughed again. “Jesus, I love you, squirt.”

Pushing onto his elbows, he eyed her slender chest. She could be a boy. Her nipples were oddly inverted, which she’d inherited from mom. She evinced no indication of breast development, no perceptible hint of tumescence surrounding her nipples. Her embarrassment at being flat as preteen amused him.

“I could cum in you, just looking at your bare chest.”

Rebecca squirmed fitfully. She hated how she looked naked. She couldn’t wait for a cure and finally hit puberty and grow boobs.

“Two weeks ago, I’d never imagine laying in bed with you, my cock in your virgin, perfectly bald pussy.”

“Stop it!” she hissed, whacking his shoulder with her fist. “It’s vagina! Not pussy, and not cunt! Vagina, Robbie, vagina!”

He laughed. “Whatever, Rebecca.”

He kissed her again, still on his elbows, stretching down to reach her lips. Her thighs lay alongside him, her calves folded back in classic Missionary position. She bore his weight with her groin, centered psychologically if not physically within her delicate vagina. Not many 15-year-old’s fucked a 17 year old brother after school today, she imagined. She loved his tongue in her mouth.

“You lost to me on purpose that first day, didn’t you, Rebecca?”

She scowled. “I did not! I’m just terrible at Strip-Crazy-Eights, that’s all.” She glowered at his knowing look. Of course she lost on purpose. The whole point was to be nude.

He teasingly bit her nose, then both ears, and then contorted to kiss and lick her delicate left nipple. She shuddered beneath him again, and squirmed to left him lick and kiss her right nipple, also. She moaned as he sucked it into his mouth and nibbled on it gently, and sucked. It was the first time he’d done more than tease them with his fingertip.

“I wish we had a whole night to do this,” she moaned, shivering. “I didn’t know it would feel so good.”

He gazed at her consideringly. “We haven’t even begun to fuck. You know that, right?”

Embarrassed, she placed her hands against his chest and nodded. “Thank you for being gentle with me. I didn’t think you would.” She bit her lower lip. “I thought you’d lose it like that guy in the video last night.”

He laughed. They’d watched a guy basically rape a girl on Rebecca’s iPad. The guy had assaulted the girl’s mouth, her vagina, and especially, her poor asshole. Rebecca had cringed and whimpered the entire way through, retreating into her pillows in horror. It was a miracle they weren’t caught, the way she squealed and carried on like an 11-year-old watching the video.

“What if I can’t change, Robbie ... not ever?”

“Don’t say that,” he chastised. Rebecca was one of only 2 girls in the county school system with Reynes’ Syndrome. Amelia attended Holy Redeemer High School in Bethune; she suffered the same humiliation as Rebecca: half the students pitied her, the others teased and made fun of her stunted growth. She and Rebecca had met only once, but were best friends. They shared everything online. They shared the same pediatrician, too, now that Amelia’s doctor had changed practice’s.

Both girls regularly traveled to NIH and Johns-Hopkins in Maryland for tests and experimental treatments. Doctor’s had no clue how Truro strangled hormonal development the way it did. They had no idea why a Reyne’s victim continued to mature mentally and physically with no underlying sexual development. Conspiracy theorists blamed the US, Russia, China, North Korea, South Korea, Japan, and various terrorist organizations for the outbreak, claiming the virus was created in a lab. They also suspected The Roman Catholic Church, The Southern Baptist Convention, and The Church of England. Rebecca thought it a curse from God.

“I heard that Congress is cutting off funding for research,” she complained.

“That’s bullshit!” he scoffed, though Robbie had no idea one way or the other if that was true.

“My trig teacher, Mr. Garrity, says only daughters from liberal families get infected, Robbie.”

Robbie barked laughter. Mom and dad were anything but tree-huggers. Both had voted for Trump in 2016 and 2020, and presumably Pence in 2024. Both were active Republican Party members, much to the consternation and embarrassment of their kids, who supported climate-change initiatives and adhered to Democratic philosophy. Rebecca hoped to vote in the 2028 election. The push was on to lower the voting age back to 18 again.

“Your trig teacher is full of crap, Rebecca. Can we not dwell on negatives, please?”

Rebecca nodded fretfully. She wouldn’t be such a stick in the mud if she had breasts and pubic hair like a normal 10th-grader, she thought.

Wednesday after school 2 weeks ago, she broached the idea on her way home. He’d bought a new car in August, a 2019 Honda Accord, which as a senior; he was allowed to park at school. He insisted Rebecca go with him; he refused to let her ride the bus by herself and be ridiculed.

“I hate being 15,” she sulked.

Distracted by a text he shouldn’t be reading behind the wheel, he answered, “What?”

She slapped his hand and tried to grab the phone. “You’re gonna kill us, Robbie—stop it!”

He laughed, batting away her hands. “Behave! What do you mean, you hate being 15?”

She glared at him. “Would you want to be 15 with no boobs?”

He laughed at her fierce expression. “I’d look cute with boobs, you know?” He winced, realizing that was exactly the wrong thing to say. “How about we not worry about boobs, and play Strip-Poker when we get home. I haven’t seen you naked, since what... 2012?”

She scowled as he grinned. He always gave her a hard time about changing her diapers when he was 3 years old. Like he really remembered doing that. If he ever actually did it, which she doubted.

“You saw me naked plenty of times. Probably until I was 8 or 9.”

He snorted. “Seeing an 8 or 9 year old really turned me on, Rebecca.”

“Would it turn you on now? Knowing I’m 15?”

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I look 11, but I’m really 15, Robbie. Would that make a difference to you ... mentally?”

He gazed at her, obviously baffled by her question. “You don’t look 11. You look every bit as old other girls in 10th grade. Skinnier, maybe...” He unconsciously glanced at her chest. “But just as old.”

Like every girl her age, Rebecca wore makeup and dressed as fashionably as possible. In truth, she was nearly indistinguishable from other girls her age in clothes. Out of them, was a different matter. Though excused from gym with a doctor’s note, she nonetheless chose to attend, playing girls basketball, volleyball, and soccer. She wore a sports bra to protect her bare chest in loose gym tops like all girls did. She just had no breasts to conceal.

“What are you talking about, anyway, Rebecca? You think I wouldn’t want to see your naked body? Think again, babe.”

He unwisely held her gaze, light traffic on Waverly Street, or not.

“Watch where you’re driving! I don’t want die the 2nd day of school, jerk-off!” She looked away in a huff, arms crossed over her chest. Robbie laughed.

“Fuck you, Robbie.”

“I wouldn’t do that. You’re my sister, for Christ sakes, Rebecca.”

She fumed with her arms crossed, and lower lip stuck out. “Let’s play Strip-Crazy-Eights, then. Maybe you can get your wish and see me naked again.”

Robbie just stared at her.

“Keep your eyes on the road! And I wouldn’t fuck you either; you’re my brother, for Christ sakes.”

Neither let the other see their grins.

Beneath him, Rebecca ran her hands over Robbie’s chest. His cock in her pussy made her so happy. It felt good, feeling like a real girl for a change.

“I did lose to you on purpose,” she admitted ruefully. “I wanted you to see me naked.”

“I know,” he said simply.

Shifting awkwardly, she levered her thighs outward and crossed her ankles in the small of his back to increase intimacy. She wore multicolored anklets; Robbie liked her in anklets. She’d stripped down to her anklets every day after school for two weeks now. She’d spent a lot of time with her brother since the 2nd day of school.

“I’m ready, I think.”

Robbie shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, Rebecca.”

Rebecca sighed. “I do like just lying here, having you inside me like this. I’m so fucking tight,” she teased, laughing.

Grinning, he wiggled experimentally atop her. She gasped, and he stopped. Both knew having sex was doubly taboo for Rebecca. Still, he very gently eased out of her halfway, and eased back in.

“Thank God for KY,” she sighed. It was the only reason he’d been able to penetrate her taut vagina. He literally used half a bottle, getting her ready for sex. She’d need to change her sheets, later. They were a fucking mess.

“Can we 69?” she asked. “Not right now,” she said hurriedly, coloring. “Maybe after school tomorrow?”

Robbie grinned. He wanted nothing more than to eat Rebecca’s bare pussy and have her suck his cock. He’d not dared bring it up himself. Everything in the last two weeks was at Rebecca’s suggestion, and at her cautious pace. The exception was this afternoon at the front door, when he’d taken her hand and led her upstairs to do this.

“I would love to 69 with you. I’ve wanted to eat you ever since you turned—”

She silenced him with a finger to the lips and a shake of the head. Some things were best left unspoken.

“I’ve wanted to give you head for a long time, too,” she acknowledged. She grinned. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you don’t have a monster cock like that guy in the video last night.”

Robbie’s 5-7/8” long erection filled her taut vagina nearly to bursting. He’d never been grateful to be normally sized before today. Rebecca couldn’t take a cock much larger than his without injury. She barely took him now.

At home two weeks ago, Robbie unlocked the front door and ushered her in. Most siblings their ages had little or nothing to do with one another. That set Rebecca and Robbie apart right there. Since her diagnosis with Reynes’ 4 years ago, she had grown steadily closer to Robbie. Rebecca shared secrets with him that no sister would normally share. What girl wanted her brother to see her naked, either?

“I hope we got cards,” he quipped. “Or did you throw them all out, part of your nefarious plot to fuck my mind?”

He jumped as Rebecca yanked up the front of her top on one side. Beneath it she wore a cami bra, not much different than the training bras she wore at 11. Before the diagnosis, when she had expectations of wearing a real bra some day. She grinned wryly.

“I’m serious about Strip-Crazy-Eights, Robbie. Are you afraid it might go the wrong way?” She laughed as Robbie yanked up the front of his shirt in return. She lowered hers. It was the first time she’d done anything overtly sexual with him; until now, it had all been innuendo, and tease.

Dropping her backpack, she pulled the top up and over her head. “This you get free,” she said, breathless despite her resolve to take off her clothes this afternoon. “The rest you have to work for, Robbie.”

Dropping back a step, Robbie stared at her askance. The bra effectively concealed her upper chest, but he could see the outline of her nipples through the thin material. It amazed and bothered him how sexy she looked with no breasts.