Chapter 1: Have You Ever Been Close To Tragedy

Catherine threw open my bedroom door, hoping that slamming it into the wall would shock me awake.

"Get up!" she yelled before gently opening Ahmo's bedroom door to make sure Sleeping Beauty did not need help preparing for another day in teen purgatory. To be fair, Ahmo Smith's high school life came complete with halo, wings, and puffy white clouds.

"Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?" Ahmo asked through my open door, a meaningless courtesy since she didn't wait for my reply. Well trained by her mother, Ahmo could not perceive the snub. At least my sister's bathroom antics only required me to get up early and take care of my minor toiletry before the day began in the Smith home. I wondered what her mother would do if she found me wide awake and ready when she slammed my bedroom door open in the morning. I did not require as much sleep as normal people, so if she tried earlier and earlier, she'd be in for some rude awakenings.

"I'm done, Tavi!" Ahmo shouted twenty minutes later. I spent the time going over the programming assignment due that afternoon. Our teacher, Ms. Bellows, was one of those just having fun torturing you bitches. The high school males' attraction to her meant she could get away with murder, nevermind a little homework sadism.

I spun my chair around to catch Ahmo walking into her room. A good day! Ahmo's blonde hair washed down to the middle of her back. The towel around her body only made it a couple of inches past her ass, putting her athletically thick thighs on glorious display. I almost fell out of the chair as she pulled the towel up to scratch an asscheek before closing her door.

In a word, my sister was fuckin-gorgeous--from her slightly oversized thighs sculpted by soccer, gymnastics, and cheerleading to her pinch of blue eyes. Our female classmates secretly hated her as much as the guys openly lusted for her. As much as I was particular to Ahmo's thighs and ass, my friends were partial to her breasts. They said her ass was a little too big. Heathens!

A good thing about being adopted is the permissible lack of skeeve from wanting to lick every inch of my fuckin-gorgeous sister. The Losers Tribunal agreed, there was nothing untoward about enjoying Ahmo's towel show, especially if I ever brought pictures to our daily lunch meeting.

I put my books away and finished dressing to kill time before the second dose of my medication. Baby blue skirt, pink top, white jacket. The Tribunal would be pleased! If only my sister coming out of her room signaled the end of my morning.

I held on tightly to the vision of Ahmo's asscheek in profile during breakfast. Thankfully, family meals only occurred on weekends and when my father's schedule allowed. Dinners were bad enough, but breakfasts sucked. The conversation between our dad, Ahmo, and the wicked bitch of the east, Catherine, flowed smoothly. No one said a word to me.

Ahmo's resentment and cold shoulder treatment was understandable. Who adopts a kid because their first child had the audacity to be born the wrong gender? Catherine did not enjoy the pregnancy thing (her words), so some heartfelt joy ensued when the doctor advised 'no more babies'. Unfortunately, Catherine wanted the perfect family portrait: Dad, Mom, Daughter, and Son.

Enter little orphan me starring as Son.

No complaints about the early years, mostly because I didn't notice Catherine holding the adoption over my head. I was the model son of a rising Honus City deputy (presently Sheriff) and his generous wife. Life couldn't have been better until I ran through a boy during a peewee football game, putting him in the hospital for two days. After the incident, I refused to play sports, a far more unforgivable sin to Catherine than Ahmo being born a girl. Of course, I agreed! The elements do not combine often enough to create fuckin-gorgeous girls for anyone to wish one less in the world.

I shook my head as Ahmo parked her Mustang at the far end of the school lot. My friends thought she did it so less kids would see us walking together. They didn't understand, Ahmo paid more attention to her car than me. The pony was dad's prize possession; the day he gave Ahmo the keys had to be the happiest of her life. I had it at even money my sister would kill anyone who scratched or otherwise damaged her baby. The morning rides were something Ahmo felt obliged to give me, in the same vein our dad was parental out of the commitment he made by adopting me.

"Did you finish Ms. Bellows' assignment?" Ahmo asked. I looked around before realizing she was talking to me. An ass scratch and the Goddess speaking to me! Halle-fuckin-lujah!

"Yeah." Babes love my eloquence.

"Good!" She smiled. "I hate when Elis and I are the only ones who do them."

Speak of the demon! Elis, a member of the Loser Tribunal and the only person Ahmo ignored more than me, ran up. "Where the fuck were you last night, Tavi? Dude, you missed the most awesome raid on an orc encampment. We needed a fucking overstatted barbarian. The entire party got waxed, asshole!"