Forced Ch. 02

Victor lay breathless beside her. Being with Jennifer again like this, feeling her pussy on him, feeling her body responding to his cock...Victor's many vague, pre-verbal thoughts were gelling, this episode crystallizing things for him. He knew why the thought of her was so arousing, why he felt nervous and excited when she was close to him. Why her pregnant with his child made his heart race and his throat tighten. He wanted Jennifer. At some point, being together, going through that night together, seeing his sister sexually, had changed him. His love for her had evolved into love paired with lust. It seemed so obvious now; Victor was in love with Jennifer, in love with his sister. He cringed inwardly at the realization. As though things weren't complicated enough.

* * *

Jennifer wasn't feeling well. Physically, she felt okay, besides being tired and sometimes nauseous. But ever since she had used Victor in bed, she felt a slurry of guilt and shame sitting in her stomach, growing tumultuous whenever she looked at him. She had slept in her room the last few weeks, even though she was suffering from insomnia. Her appetite was weak, and she was listless. Without school to fill her days, she lazed around the house while Victor was at work, sometimes going out in the evenings to avoid him.

It was the way Victor was looking at her that was the hardest to bear. She was hurting him, she could tell. He knew she was avoiding him but he didn't know why, and the pain and confusion were clear on his face every time she walked out the door. The more she stayed away, the more she wanted to be with him. The need for him was unceasing in its assault, the constant pressure of it sometimes taking her breath away. She tried to tell herself her feelings were platonic, that a swelling, bursting feeling didn't fill her chest when he was holding her. But being away from him was brutal. She felt as though she were constantly being crushed against rocks by crashing waves; a brief reprieve where she was able to just catch her breath before she was thrown against them again.

"How are you feeling?" Ashley asked. They were at a restaurant, taking their time over the bread basket before ordering.

"Oh, all right. Tired, you know," Jennifer said, dragging a piece of bread through olive oil on a saucer.

"Do you know what you're going to do?" Ashley said, referring to the pregnancy.

Jennifer was silent. She desperately wanted to tell Ashley everything that had happened. But what would she think of her then? What could she think of her? "Ash...I want to tell you something, but I'm afraid you're going to think I'm disgusting."

Ashley looked confused. "Something about what you're going to do? Jen, if you've decided to get an abortion, I won't think you're disgusting. Or heartless, or whatever. I promise."

"No, not about that. But...it is about the baby."

Ashley really looked confused now. "I don't understand. Why would I think you were disgusting? You know what, never mind. Please, just tell me. If you want to talk about it, please, tell me. I'm not going to think poorly of you. You're my best friend," she said, reaching across the table and squeezing Jennifer's hand.

Jennifer looked down and took a deep breath. "Do you remember when those guys broke into our house? Tied Victor and me up?"

"Oh my god, did one of them rape you? Is the baby theirs?"

Jennifer shook her head. "No. Ash, please, I'm not going to be able to finish if I don't say this right now. I'm going to lose my courage."

"Okay, sure, sorry. I'll zip it."

"You know they didn't end up taking anything...they weren't happy about it. They were both high as kites. And...they made me and Victor -" She swallowed hard. "They made us touch each other."

Ashley was staring at her. "Jen, that's horrible. Do you mean...the baby?" Jennifer nodded, tears overflowing her eyes. "Oh, Jen. Honey, I'm so sorry," Ashley said, her eyes sympathetic and sad. She moved to the other side of the table and hugged Jennifer. "Jesus, what a terrible thing to do to someone. How fucking sick." She paused. "Does...does he know?"

Jennifer nodded again. "He's been great, says he'll support whatever decision I make."

"Whatever decision? You're going to get an abortion, right?" Jennifer didn't say anything. "Right? Aren't you?"

"I think so. I think it would be best. I have an appointment next week, just for a consultation."

Ashley looked at her. "But...you're not sure."

Jennifer shook her head. "Ashley, I don't know what's wrong with me. Ever since that night...I've felt weird. I mean, about Victor. Not awkward because we...because we were forced to be together. I can't stop thinking about him. When I'm with him, I have butterflies and...and...it's like I have a crush on him or something." She looked up at Ashley. "Do you think I'm sick? Do you think I'm gross?"

Ashley squeezed her tight. "No, Jen, of course not...look, you and Victor were forced to do something sisters and brothers don't do. And then you got pregnant with his child because of it. It makes total sense that you would have these confusing feelings, the trauma of that night and all the hormones coursing through you right now," she said. "I think it'll pass."

The prospect was painful to think about. Victor was her family, her only family. Jennifer didn't want to be away from him. She wanted to be close to him, as close as possible; not just physically, but emotionally, and what was closer than lovers? But maybe Ashley was right and she was mixed up, and her feelings would go away. "Ash...a few weeks ago, when I told him, I slept in his bed with him. And in the middle of the night...I touched him." She was praying Ashley didn't ask her to elaborate. "I feel so guilty, Ash," she said, more tears trickling down her cheeks. "I can't believe what I did. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Wait, I don't understand. I mean...why did you touch him?"

"I was...I was touching myself, and I felt him get hard against me, in his sleep," Jennifer whispered. She put her face in her hands. "Oh, Jesus, what is wrong with me?"

Ashley squeezed her again and rocked her gently. "Shh. Jen, there's nothing wrong with you. I'm not going to lie to your face and say it's not a little out of the ordinary, but that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you. A lot has happened to you lately. This is a really weird, confusing time."

"I can't look at him. I can't talk to him. All I can think about is what I did, and it makes me sick," Jennifer cried.

"Jen, look at me. I know this is fucked up. But he's your brother. Your only family. You can get past this. Victor has always been so sweet and understanding with you. I think you should talk to him. I'm sure he'll listen. He's not going to think you're gross," Ashley said, stroking Jennifer's hair.

"You think?" Ashley nodded. "I hope you're right."

"I am. I know Victor. He adores you. He could never think ill of you."

Jennifer was quiet for a moment. "Ash...I want to talk to him. I'm so sorry, but do you mind if I go? I want to talk to him now," she said.

"No, Jen. Go. It's fine. Let me know how it goes," Ashley said, sliding out of the booth.

Jennifer stood and hugged her. "Thank you, Ash. You're so amazing. I'm lucky to have you as a best friend."

"Good luck, honey. Call me."

Jennifer grabbed her purse. "I will. I'll talk to you soon," she said, heading for the door.

The drive home felt like it took hours, although it was only ten minutes. She could hardly wait to get inside. She wasn't thinking of the possibility that her feelings were temporary, she was thinking of coming clean with Victor and apologizing, of making their relationship right again. The prospect of resolution made her eager, her excitement hard to contain.

Jennifer burst through the front door and into the living room. Victor was on the couch, a bottle of beer in one hand, TV remote in the other. Her face was flush, and her eyes were red. "Jen," he said in surprise.

"Victor, I have something I have to tell you," she said, before he could say anything. "The last time I came into your room and got in bed with you, I...I'm so sorry, Victor." She sniffled, beginning to cry. She hadn't thought of how awkward the actual confession was going to be, or how she'd say it. "I was...I was touching myself, and I felt you behind me, and I...I touched you, too. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Victor was floored. He hadn't expected Jennifer back so early, and definitely hadn't anticipated she'd come in talking about what she'd done that night. He stared at her.

"Oh, Jesus. I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. I think I'm sick," she said, covering her face with her hands. "I just...since the attack, I don't know how I feel anymore. I'm so confused."

Setting his beer on the coffee table, Victor stood and went to her. "Oh, Jen. There's nothing wrong with you. You're not sick," he said, hugging her.

"What are you talking about?" Jennifer cried, face hidden. "Didn't you hear me? I fucking molested you and got off on it! What is not sick about that?'

"Jennifer..." Victor debated whether to tell her he had been awake the whole time. "We went through some fucked up shit. Who can say if how we end up dealing with it is right or wrong? Is there a right or wrong way? We can't anticipate how everything we're dealing with is going to rear its ugly head. I don't care what you did. I would never think you were messed up, or bad, or anything. You're my sister. My only sister. You can't do anything to drive me away. Ever."

Jennifer looked up at him for several beats. "Victor...are you sure?"

"Yes," he paused. "Um, actually, I-"

"Oh god, I'm so relieved," she said. "I think the craziness of that night, and all these hormones, I think they're just making me feel weird. I think it will pass." Jennifer rested her head against his chest.

Victor swallowed. He had been about to tell her, to tell her that he had loved the way she felt on him, how hot he thought it was. That he was having the same strange feelings she was. But he couldn't, not if she thought the feelings were misguided and fleeting. He just held her against him, rubbing her back. "You'll always have me, Jen."

Jennifer closed her eyes, relief flooding through her. Ashley had been right. She couldn't have hoped for a better response from Victor. "Thank you, Victor. I don't know what I would do without you."

Victor felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. She was in his arms, but not in the way he wanted, and it was torturous.

* * *

When Victor came home from work a couple weeks later, Jennifer was on the couch in the living room, arms wrapped around her knees. He loved seeing her at home, finding her there after work. But she had a troubled, faraway look on her face. She didn't even notice him come in.

"Hey Jen," Victor said, standing near the couch. "Everything okay?"

She blinked and her gaze slowly shifted to him. A tear ran down her cheek. "Planned Parenthood just called," she said, her voice weak. "I'm not pregnant. I had a miscarriage."

Victor felt the breath go out of him. Even though he knew she had been planning to have an abortion, she hadn't yet. Their child was still in her, still alive. But hearing this news, that their baby was gone...he felt like he'd been punched. Victor stood there, staring down at her.

She wiped her eyes with her hand. "I guess that's that, then," she said, her voice breaking. She started sobbing.

Victor sat next to her on the couch, pulling her against him. He pressed her head to his chest as she cried. "I'm sorry, Jen." He rocked her gently for several minutes. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but...what happened? I thought when a woman miscarried, she knew? Something happened?"

Jennifer shook her head. "The pre-abortion pregnancy test was negative. I was pregnant, at one point, but they said the pregnancy 'wasn't viable,' and I should have an 'expectant miscarriage.' When...when all the tissue and everything comes out." She couldn't bring herself to say baby. "I just haven't yet."

"I'm sorry, Jen. That sounds really difficult." He paused. "Are you okay? I thought this was ultimately what you wanted."

Jennifer pushed away from him abruptly. "What do you mean? You think I should be happy right now?" she asked angrily.

"What? No, Jen. That's not what I meant. I just..."

"You just what? You didn't want me to have an abortion, I know you didn't. You think I shouldn't be sad about this?" She felt a searing heat in her chest, the way she felt when she was really, really furious. She stood, looking down at him. "You think I shouldn't be sad that our FAMILY is gone? That our family is dead?"

Victor was so taken aback, he didn't know what to say. "Jen, that's not...I didn't-"

"Yes, it is. What's wrong with you? Why would you want your sister to have your child? Do you even realize how fucked up that is?" Jennifer said, her voice shrill.

Victor just stared at her, mouth fallen open in shock. She never attacked him like this. Never. And it hurt, a lot. He looked down as his face grew hot, eyes watering. What she was saying was true, he wanted their baby. He didn't want her to have an abortion. And she was repulsed by it. By him. His chest was tight, seeing the disdain on her face. These words, coming from her, the person whose opinion and love mattered to him most, bore straight to his heart. Within them, they contained everything necessary to rob him of the thing he had hoped for most, the potential of a future with her. Really, to rob him of hope. He was desolate. A tear slid down his cheek.

"Oh, Jesus," Jennifer said. She sounded disgusted. She turned and left the room, and he heard her grab her purse and keys, then the back door slamming as she left.

* * *

Late that night, light flooded Victor's room, waking him. He covered his eyes, head pounding. He was very drunk. The light was so bright, it hurt his eyes. "What the fuck?" he muttered. He propped himself up on one elbow and squinted. Jennifer stood in the doorway, hand on the light switch. Either she was swaying or his vision was. It was still dark out. "Jen?"

Jennifer stared at him. Pure, unmasked hatred was written on her face. Without saying anything, she walked toward him, pulling off her shirt, pants. She unhooked her bra and threw it aside, then pushed her underwear off her hips and yanked the sheets back. Victor couldn't comprehend what was happening, but it was so bizarre, so surreal, he couldn't make sense of it. He lay there as she threw one leg over his hips, straddling him. She started grinding against him, grabbing his hands and putting them on her breasts.

"Jen, what the fuck are you doing?" he said, pulling his hands away.

"Isn't this what you want? To fuck your sister? Make me pregnant? You want to fuck your baby sister's pussy, come deep inside?" Jennifer hissed, leaning forward, inches from his face. She reeked of alcohol. Something hard. She pinned his arms to the mattress, her hips undulating on top of him.

"No! Jen, stop it!" he said, trying to free his arms. He struggled to maintain clarity, his drunken haze making it exceedingly difficult.

"Don't fucking lie to me, Victor. You want to fuck me. You want to stick your cock in my cunt and pound it until your cum oozes out of me. It's messed up, because I'm your sister, but who cares? Do it! Fuck me! Fuck your little sister!" She lifted her hips and reached between them, into his underwear, pulling out his soft cock.

Victor, one arm free now, pushed her back, one hand on her shoulder. She fell to one side on the bed and he sat up, scooting away from her and putting his dick back in his underwear. "Jennifer, stop it!"

"Oh, what? Now you're coy? Don't pretend you don't want this. That you haven't been thinking of it since you fucked me two months ago," she said, crawling towards him. "Since I tasted your cum in my mouth."

He moved back, trying to keep her away. He fell off the bed, ass first, and scrambled to his feet, almost falling over in his drunken stupor. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Does it matter? Isn't it what you want?" Jennifer said, kneeling on the bed. One hand fell to her pussy, and she started rubbing herself, pushing a finger deep inside. "Come on, Victor. Come back to bed. I want you to fuck me. I like the way you taste."

He was so confused. He knew she didn't mean it, that she was upset and drunk. But he didn't know why she was being so cruel. "Jen, please, stop," Victor begged. "Please, this is killing me."

"So give in. You don't have to restrain yourself anymore. Take me."

"That's not what I meant, Jen," he said, his tongue thick in his mouth. He struggled to find the right words, to articulate everything he was feeling through the alcohol. "You're being so mean to me. I don't know why. I love you. I'm sorry. I did want our child. But more than that, I wanted to do what YOU wanted. I would never expect you to have my baby."

Jennifer stared at him, her hand not moving anymore.

"I don't know why I feel the way I do. Maybe I am sick and messed up. I'm sorry, Jen. I feel bad enough as it is. Please, please, don't rub my face in it. I can't take it," he said, his voice hoarse.

Jennifer stared at him for several seconds, then got off the bed and left his room without saying anything, leaving her clothes strewn about. Victor walked to the door of his room, in time to see Jennifer's door slam shut. He closed his own door, then turned off his light and sat on his bed. He put his head in his hands, and took slow, deep breaths. He laid back and closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come.

* * *

Jennifer was gone. Victor hadn't seen her in weeks, and she wouldn't answer his calls, texts, or e-mails. The only way he heard anything about her, whether she was okay, was through Ashley, who would periodically update him in short, whispered conversations. All he knew was that she was staying with Ashley, and she was fine. And that she'd had her miscarriage. He had a hollow feeling in his stomach when he thought of not being there to comfort her, but she didn't want him. In any way.

Victor was miserable. He was on probation at work for showing up late, hung over, and being antisocial and brusque. He tried to care about keeping his job, but it was hard when his main motivation in life had been excised so cleanly, so completely.

He started drinking when he got home, and didn't stop until he passed out. He knew it was bad, and that he was drinking more as the days went by. But, like work, it was another thing he wanted to care about and couldn't.

Victor thought of the last time he'd seen her, when she'd come to his room and stripped. He had dispensed with the tumbler and was drinking whiskey from the bottle tonight, small, slow sips that burned his throat. He tried to make sense of that night, but he couldn't. Jennifer wasn't a cruel person. He couldn't imagine her intentionally hurting him, even if she was disgusted with him, even if she hated him. But her contempt for him had been palpable. He went through the night over and over, thinking of things he might've said or done differently.

Victor stumbled into the bathroom, whiskey bottle in hand. He turned on the shower, undressed, and got in. He tried standing for a while, but it was too difficult to balance, and he was so tired. So he slumped against the cold tile wall as the hot spray washed over him, sliding to the floor. He took a pull on the whiskey, trying to muster the energy to wash himself. Victor closed his eyes briefly, just resting them for a second. It was such an effort to open them again. He'd try again in a minute.

The next time he opened his eyes, Jennifer was shaking his shoulder, and he was cold. Really cold. And still drunk. The whiskey bottle had slipped from his hand and lay next to him on the shower floor, nearly empty. Cold water beat down on him from the shower head, hot water supply long ago exhausted. He didn't know how long he'd been in the shower, but he was shivering and his legs had fallen asleep. He tried to focus his gaze as she turned off the shower.