Chapter 1

I trudged through the snow, wind blasting into my face, biting at any exposed skin. Silently. I vowed not to leave my shopping until Christmas Eve next year. Last year I said the same thing. Come to think of it, the year before that as well.

I wasn’t the only one. Despite the freezing weather and late hour, the streets and stores were still busy. It was primarily worried-looking middle-aged men trying to buy for their wife’s or girlfriends. Judging by some items I saw them carrying around, there would be a lot of disappointed women tomorrow morning. I saw one man at the gift wrap counter in John Lewis with a toaster.

Practical as it may be, it didn’t exactly scream “thoughtful Christmas gift” He would have had better luck at the jewellery counter.

Thankfully, I had managed to buy most of what I needed. All I needed now was something for my difficulty to buy for older sister. Most of my family members are easy to buy for. I brought my mom a bottle of her favourite perfume with 25% off. For my twin younger sisters, a new Bluetooth speaker for their room and gift cards to their favourite clothing store. They had broken their old speaker with an overzealous high kick while practising a new cheer routine. Both girls are on the junior cheer squad at school and have been taking ballet lessons since they could walk.

My older sister, Lauren, was always difficult to buy for. Not that she was a diva or overly selective. Rather, she just changes her style, tastes and interests as often as the sun sets. She had arrived back from university two days ago in fishnet tights, a purple and black pleated mini skirt and a purposely torn and worn tee with some metal band logo across the chest. Topping off her look, she had purple highlights streaking through her naturally midnight black hair.

It was dyed blonde the last time I saw her, which was only three months ago, to fit with the “Preppy” style she was then trying. Now she had decided on some Goth type look which I could never pull off, but she managed it pretty well. How she hadn’t caught her death wearing so little in December, I don’t know.

On her last birthday, she was going through a gamer girl/geek stage, so I just bought her a few game tee shirts. Easy. But now I had to buy something sufficiently dark, possibly occult-ish during a time of year where everything is all sparkles and jolly.

Stepping into a side street gave me a temporary respite from the biting wind. Rubbing my frozen hands, I tried to decide on my next move before everything shut. Jewellery was always a safe bet, but my wage packet would only stretch so far. After turning 16 six months ago, I had got a part-time job at a retail store. The pay was enough to let me be a bit more generous with gifts this year. But. I still couldn’t afford to visit the glass-fronted high street jewellers.

Looking down the side street, I noticed a sign for a shop I had never seen before. It said, “Black Cat Curiosities “, “Oddities, Antiquities, & Occult”. Goths are into all the occult, black magic rubbish, right? Glancing at my watch. I decided it was my only option. There was maybe half an hour till I needed to head home and didn’t want to miss the last bus. I already couldn’t feel my toes.

Below the sign was a large glass display window showing various deity carvings and a few fliers offering palm and Tarot readings, and seance events. Things I have zero interest in. The faded black door swung open with a creak. The cast iron bell above the door chimed.

Inside, it was lit only by a mish-mash of candles placed sporadically around the room. Fearsome-looking shadows moved and shifted as the flames flickered. Despite the door chime, no shopkeeper stood behind the ancient-looking register. I moved toward the aisles on the right and started searching for some type of trinket or bauble that would appeal to my sister’s latest phase and without breaking the bank.

Shelves containing various carved statues, such as Buddhas, Fertility Goddesses, and crosses, sat across from shelves of Tarot cards and crystal balls. Rounding the corner, I noticed that various occult figurines and books took up most of the tiny store’s shelf space, with smaller oddities dotted around. Reaching the back of the store, I came across a wooden box about seven inches across. The front face was carved to depict the face of a woman with her eyes closed.

Even from the old carving, it was easy to see she was stunningly beautiful. The bottom was plain, and the top embossed with some sort of crest. Small pieces of gold leaf remained, but most had worn down to show the dark wood beneath. The remaining three sides were a complete mess. Each side was split into an eight-by-eight grid and had one panel missing from each.

I don’t know what exactly it was that drew me to it. It didn’t stand out against everything around it. It was actually one of the more modest pieces. But I felt compelled to pick it up.

“It’s a puzzle box,” a sensual voice purred.

I spun in shock at the sudden appearance of who I assumed to be the shopkeeper, and my breath caught in my throat. She was stunningly beautiful. Unbelievably so: Pale alabaster skin stood out in stark contrast to the dark shadows behind her. Pools of orange candlelight reflected off her skin, making it look like she was glowing. Tresses of raven black hair cascaded down her back in a glossy obsidian waterfall. Her eyes were a strange piercing violet colour; lips red and invitingly full. The dress she wore was black with a plunging V-neck ending just below the bottom of two of the largest breasts I had ever seen.

The same alabaster white as the rest of her; they were massive yet perfect on her frame, standing high and firm on her chest with no help. The slight bounce caused by the rise and fall of her chest proved they were natural. The design of the dress left the inner portions of her creamy breasts in full view. A slit starting at the hip and running the full length of the skirt displayed a long, smooth, toned leg. Slowly coming back to myself, I realised she had been talking and was waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, what?” I said oh so eloquently.

Mom had taught me better than to stare at a woman’s body. Somehow. I maintained eye contact. Perhaps it was her strange purple eyes that trapped my green ones in their gaze. Her ruby red lips twitched as she gave a slight smile. She knew where my attention had been, albeit briefly.

“I said, it’s a puzzle box. It is said to contain a powerful being that will grant wishes to any person able to complete all three sides of the puzzle.”

Released from her gaze, I gathered myself and remembered my original purpose: finding my sister a gift.

“Do you have any jewellery for sale? It’s a Christmas gift for my sister. She’s really into this sort of stuff,” I said as I waved my hands to encompass the entire shop still with the box in my hand.

She stared at me for a moment before turning and walking towards the counter. Moving with a sensual sway to her hips, she had enough grace and poise to put any catwalk model to shame. Just as stunning from the back., the black dress was backless, revealing a smooth expanse of skin that begged me to reach out and touch it.

Her ass, perfectly shaped and framed by the dress, could cause traffic accidents. The tight black material showed no lines to suggest she was wearing underwear, and the thought made me weak at the knees. The spell over me broke as her ass disappeared behind the counter, and I quickly raised my gaze, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

Moving to the countertop, I placed the puzzle box next to a long, thin box the woman had retrieved from somewhere while I was busy worshipping her butt. She lifted the lid to reveal an eye-catching necklace. A delicate silver chain held a black spherical jewel, the inside of which seemed to swirl as if a black hole was in the centre. It was perfect.

“How much, Miss...?” I let the sentence hang, hoping for a name.

“Esmeralda Smoke. But call me Esme.”

“£100 for the necklace” Even business-like, her voice sounded seductive.

“And for the box ... a kiss,” she finished.

“Pardon?” I asked. Surely, I had misheard her.

“£100 for the necklace and a kiss for the box.”

I just stood there, the gears in my head slowly processing what I was hearing. Taking my silence as an invitation, Esme leaned over the counter toward me, and my eyes dropped to her cleavage, which was now even more outrageous, being pressed together by her arms. I could fall forward into those perfect tits, suffocate, and die happy with the knowledge I had experienced perfection before I died.

A shock ran through my body, and my cock instantly grew hard as a slender finger touched my chin and lifted my head to bring Esme’s face just inches from mine. Her violet eyes grew brighter the closer she got. Her lips feathered along my jaw bone before she gently nipped my ear lobe.

“Do we have a deal?” she whispered into my ear.

My heart pounded, my head swam, and my erection throbbed.

“Yes,” I replied in a hoarse voice, my lips nearly touching her ear. I breathed her in. Her hair smelled of lilies.

She pulled back until her face was just millimetres from mine. She stared into my eyes, looking at the very essence of my being. It felt surreal, as if she were looking past the physical and seeing my soul. Taking her finger from my chin, she gently stroked down the side of my face, her soft fingertips sending shocks of pleasure with every touch. Her hand slid to the back of my head and softly gripped my shaggy, black hair. She pulled me that last short distance toward her, and our lips touched.

My entire body tensed. Every nerve exploded with pleasure. My vision blurred, my head swam, I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. As her tongue slipped past my lips, I came. My head fell back, supported only by her hand, my mouth dropped open, and I felt as if something was tugging deep inside me. It was the only thing I was aware of beyond the pleasure burning through my body.

Esme drew back, a look of pure ecstasy on her face as motes of white light floated from my mouth into hers. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was her shutting her lips, cutting off the stream of light. Her skin glowed brightly, and her very being seemed to hum with satisfaction. She released the hold on the back of my head, and I fell back unconsciously to the shop floor.

As I came back to the world, the first thing I was aware of was the ache. Every muscle in my body hurt as if I had just run a marathon while holding weights above my head. I could feel dry cum in my pants, feeling embarrassed by the situation. The images of Esme’s face in front of mine swam to the front of my mind.

“What the fuck?” I groaned as I pushed myself up.

I remembered the puzzle box, the necklace, and the kiss. The pure ecstasy it elicited and then the weird tugging sensation and motes of light leaving me and entering her. After a moment, I pulled myself up, my muscles protesting every movement.

I leaned against the countertop and looked around. The shop was empty. I called out but got no reply. Mysteriously, the shopkeeper had vanished. Looking back to the countertop, I saw the necklace box gift now neatly wrapped and, next to it, the wooden puzzle box. A folded note on top read;

“The necklace is on the house; the kiss was worth it.” She’d signed it ES x.

Tucking the note into my pocket, I looked around once more, still seeing no sign of the beautiful woman. I dropped the necklace box, the note, and the puzzle box into my bag and left. I hurried, as best my aching muscles would allow, out of the shop. When I finally pushed the door to my house open, it was 6:35. My fingers and toes felt frozen, my hair was wet, and I was home over an hour late.

“Hafthor Henry James, where the hell have you been?”

Oh shit! You know it’s bad when Mom uses your full name. No one ever calls me Hafthor. Most of the time, it was always just Thor.

When she was angry like this, her native accent came through, and it was as if she were a Valkyrie coming to claim your soul. I was well behaved most of the time, but I knew from experience that voice could spell doom if mishandled.

I groaned as the tall, statuesque blonde woman, my mom, entered the hallway. At 37, my mother still had her good looks. Her Nordic parentage had granted her high cheekbones, long blond hair and smooth pale skin—a natural Nordic beauty who could readily appear to be nearer to 30-years-old.

My mother was 16 when she met my 19-year-old father. He was studying in the Netherlands for the summer. They had a short summer fling, then both went their separate ways. Seven months later, a heavily pregnant 16-year-old turned up on my father’s doorstep. My grandmother quickly brought the young woman into her home and made her part of the family.

Family lore is that while my grandmother hid her laughter, my grandfather was furious with my father for being so stupid. He forced them to get married before the child was born, and as soon as my father could afford a small flat, kicked them both out.

After about a year, he relented, and the family tried to build some bridges. My father and Eira, my mother, fell in love in the last few months of the pregnancy and were very happy together. It delighted my grandmother to have more contact with her daughter-in-law and new granddaughter. It was one big, happy family. Relations between my father and grandfather grew stronger as they worked together to build the business my great-grandfather founded.

Fourteen years ago, a traffic collision with a drunk driver killed both my father and grandfather. I was only two, so all I knew was what I’ve been told. Two days after the funeral, Mom found out she was pregnant with the twins. Gran helped her a lot. I think it was as much for her as it was for my mom. She had married my grandfather young, and I don’t think she knew how to be alone. Sadly, just two years ago, my gran also died, another tragic loss.

Thanks to the business sale that neither Gran nor Mom could run, and three life insurance policies, mom’s bank balance was nicely into seven figures. That didn’t mean she was indulging in an extravagant lifestyle. Mom was careful about spending her money. She had balanced the books for the business.

The most significant expenditure so far has been to pay off the mortgage on our house. Other than that, we lived reasonably simply. Other than monitoring her investments, Mom didn’t have an actual job; keeping the twins entertained took up most of her time.

Mum was usually merciful, but she seemed anything but as her icy blue eyes bored into mine. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, Mum. I missed the last bus, so I had to walk home, and with all this shopping and the snow, it took ages.”

“That’s no excuse. You shouldn’t have left your present buying till the last minute again.”

“I know, Mum, I’m sorry.” If I said “sorry” enough, she might let me off. It is Christmas, after all the time of forgiveness.

My mother’s eyes continued to stare into mine for a moment or two. I loved her dearly, but she had that stare that bore into you. She could be so gentle one moment and so formidable the next.

“Fine,” she said with an exasperated huff. “Get changed and dry off. Your dinner is in the kitchen going cold.”

Feeling somewhat relieved to be leaving her presence, I rushed upstairs before she could change her mind.

Walking home and the weird kiss from Esme left me exhausted. All I wanted to do was warm up, have some food, then go to bed. However, before I could reach my bedroom, two evil monsters attacked me. Working as a team, one wrapped around my legs, immobilising me. The other jumped at my torso, forcing me to the ground. Before I could grasp what was happening, they took my Christmas shopping bags from me, and the two tiny attackers vanished into their room.

I really cannot be arsed with this shit.

Getting up, I stormed into the twins’ room to find them staring in disappointment at the contents of the bag.

“You already wrapped them,” one said in disappointment.

“That’s not fair,” pouted the other.

“That’s right, munchkins. I got them wrapped in-store, so no presents till tomorrow,” I grinned as I had rightly expected their actions.

It was an unwritten rule in our house that any unwrapped presents were fair game and could be claimed at any time. But, as soon as we wrapped them, it was strictly hands-off. I’m not sure how the tradition started, but we respected it through fear of losing the aforementioned presents. I snatched up the gifts and turned to leave.

“But we need to know,” one said.

“I’m gonna die if I don’t know what you got me,” the other chimed in. I turned to see the twins giving me their best puppy-dog eyes. Even though I was not in the mood, I nearly broke.

Elsa and Elsie were 14-years-old and took after my mother. High cheekbones, fair skin, big eyes and, unlike my older sister and myself, long blond hair. They are identical in every way apart from their eyes. Elsa had inherited my mother’s piercing ice-blue eyes, while Elsie had my father’s strong green eyes. With their big eyes and pure colourings, they had the puppy-dog look down.

They were undeniably, absolutely, frustratingly cute. They were both tiny, however, at just 4’4”. It was already clear they would inherit my mother’s slim figure if not her height; their small bodies already supported a pair of well-formed and firm B-cups. Who knew how much more they would fill out; they still had a few years of growth. Their hips, while not yet womanly, were no longer narrow but curvy enough to hint teasingly at what was about to develop.

My older sister, Lauren, stepped out of her room to see what the commotion was. She was all feminine curves and like me took after our father. At 20, she was unlikely to exceed her current 5’4” and we shared the same dark hair and green eyes. Although she rarely actually had her hair its natural colour usually dying it to fit whichever style she was trying.

My exhaustion was the only reason I could break away from their devastating gaze. I quickly made my way to my room and shut the door behind me. Stowing the presents under the bed, I threw my clothes, including my cum caked boxers, into the wash basket and fell into bed. Food could wait for an hour or two. I needed a power nap.

I dreamed of Esme and the kiss, a loop that kept replaying. The occasional image of my three sisters and my mother occasionally swam into view. The puzzle box made a few guest appearances as well. I lost count of how many times I re-experienced that kiss, but when Esme’s face morphed into my sister Lauren’s face, the dream took an unexpected turn.

The edges of my dream vision got darker the closer Lauren’s lip got to mine. I tried to urge my body to react, but I wasn’t in control. Lauren’s lips crept closer to mine. Her small hand was on the back of my head just as Esme’s had been. Her green eyes were just as captivating as Esme’s violet ones had been. What was it with women’s eyes recently?

Lauren’s purple lipstick painted lips were mere millimetres from mine. As our lips touched, I felt the same explosive force of ecstasy and passion I had felt from Esme, and I shot up in bed, suddenly awake.

My covers had fallen to the floor, my cock had pushed its way through the gap in the front of my boxers. All eight inches of my cock pointed straight up as hard as it had ever been. Larger than most, my length and girth had always been a point of pride. Unfortunately, it had yet to experience the pleasure of a woman’s pussy.

I was breathing rapidly, chest heaving with a slight sheen of sweat covering it. I sat on the edge of the bed, cock in hand. With little conscious thought, I slowly stroked from tip to base. I already felt close to cumming; the dream had me massively aroused. A rumble and cramps from my stomach interrupted my self-indulgent pleasure. When was the last time I ate? I glanced at the clock: 3:24 AM. It had been nearly 14 hours since I had last eaten! I was still a growing lad and hardly ever went more than a few hours without eating.

With a bit of a struggle, I tucked my cock back into my shorts with the head pushing up past my waistband. Grabbing my dressing gown off the back of the door, I went in search of food. Finding a plate of meatballs in the fridge, I coated them with a generous helping of sauce before blasting it in the microwave to heat it up. While the meatballs were being zapped, I drank from a litre bottle of OJ while meditating over the strange dream.

Most of the dreams I could justify. Esme and the kiss were easy. I’m a 16-year-old guy. Basically, a bag of hormones on legs. Most women got my motor running. To dream of them was a regular occurrence.

It made sense that a woman as stunningly sensual and beautiful as Esme would have an impact. She seemed to suck away part of my soul before making me cum and then blackout. The experience permanently imprinted on my mind. The same goes for the puzzle box and necklace. They were all part of the Esme experience, so it seemed logical to mix those images.

I could pass off the images of the twins and Mom because I had interacted with them minutes before going to sleep. That just left me to account for Lauren. Like mom and the twins, I had seen her just before bed. But the way she featured so prominently in the dream and in such a passionate way made little sense. Admittedly, I have had a few erotic dreams starring my sister. She was a beautiful woman. Usually, however, I tried to avoid thinking of family members when masturbating.

I tried, but didn’t always succeed. Recently, I failed more than not.

Lauren had had the same green eyes and brown hair as me, traits inherited from our father. Slim like our mother, she was blessed with a perfect set of D-cup breasts that looked huge on her slender frame. A tight rounded ass atop toned legs finished a pretty damn fine package. She was a 10 out of 10. Plus, the alt/goth type look she was working on now added a sort of sexy, rebellious charm.