Harri: Face the Slut Within Ch. 02

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Can Harri tame the slut within? Does she want to?
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Part 2 of the 7 part series

Updated 08/30/2017
Created 12/03/2009
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thenry
thenry
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We pulled into the parking space. Rain pattered, but if we ran we'd hardly be wet.

Jess turned off the car. "You ready to dash?" She grinned.

I grinned back. "Is this your idea of making it fun already?"

"I aim to deliver, Harriet. Harri." She popped open her door and jumped out.

I followed suit. What did she mean by that name? She beat me to the stairs, but I was right behind her the whole way up. My breasts heaved and bounced until I crossed my arms over my chest, telling myself it was against the sudden chill.

She beat me to the overhang by a second, then turned back, stricken, as the sky opened up. "My bag is still in the car. The keys. I'm such an idiot sometimes."

"I'm stupid," I said immediately. "I didn't even think. I'll get them." I looked out at the deluge.

"Don't be silly." Jess walked out into the rain, taking her time.

Jess was right. The things that changed weren't me, but the little things were some of the easiest to cling to. And some changes were going to be in how other people treated me. I thought hard about what anyone else would do in this situation, and couldn't come up with any predictions. I'd been at this house before, spent long summers here. I knew it just as well as she did. Should I have gone down to the car in the rain? I couldn't have a year ago because of my health. Should I leave Jess in the mudroom and bring her a towel or tell Jess to make for the nearest bathroom and warm up? Was it okay to stare at her if she took off all her clothes?

"I'm the one who's supposed to be glum," said Jess from behind me.

She tossed the ring and I caught it without even a fumble. Despite what I looked like, physical coordination was really catching up for me. I unlocked the door with my left hand and began flipping on lights. Jess followed, dropped her bag in the corner, and waited soaked and shivering.

"Wait just a second," I told her. "I'll be right back with a towel to catch the most of that, then you can jump in a shower and warm up." I slipped the wet shoes off my feet and dashed around the corner to Aunt Cathy's bathroom. Towels: check. There was even a robe behind the door.

But back at the door, Jess had already taken off her baggy shirt and was tugging on her jeans. I waited, fine, I fucking stared, towel in hand, until she noticed.

"I -" I said, then froze. She was so willowy under the bagging clothes she always wore, elegant. The black bra had lace cupping her small breasts, lace through which I could see flat, silver dollar nipples. Her panties were white and, while they rode low on her waist, covered so much more than the slutty ones I had on.

"Uh -" She stood up, wet jeans tight around her thighs. "I can't get out of these. I need help."

"Right, of course." I handed her the towel, then ducked into the mud room for a stool. When I bent over for it I saw my nipples poking up as hard as ever. "Because of the cold," I mumbled to myself. "She sees them every time she looks at me. It's a tiny tank top."

Jess had wrapped the towel around her torso and sank gratefully onto the stool. She had her shoes and socks off already, which just left me tugging on the legs. An inch at a time they came off, but I couldn't believe how hard I had to pull to get them to move. I was so much stronger than I used to be, and still. For a second, right before they came off, I caught full on the crotch of her white panties and the strip of shadow they contained. Women and pubic hair - I wouldn't be able to avoid it forever.

She stood, blushing. "Shower for me."

"There's a robe on the door in there. I'll scrounge for food. Then we'll deal with ... things."

"Plan," she said.

In the kitchen, I opened the fridge. There wasn't much. It had been mostly cleaned of perishables, meaning we had our choice of baking soda and ketchup. There were a couple of eggs that didn't look bad, and I found some spices in one of the cabinets. Quick, high protein omelets. If I had a specialty, that was it. Outside, the rain really started coming down.

While waiting for the skillet to heat to the perfect temperature, I pulled down a bottle of wine and stopped when I couldn't reach the glasses on tiptoe. This was me, all me, doing something normal. Just making dinner. I wondered how long it would be before I stopped noticing my breasts sway every time I moved.

The house was starting to disappear, up here at least. Every day an estate auction company brought over a load of boxes and took away the full ones. For helping out this week, the siblings promised me a full share of the proceeds. Every day more of Aunt Cathy disappeared.

I heard the water shut off and grabbed two plates to serve at the counter. When I looked up she was there in the old robe, much shorter on her than the last time I remember her wearing it, watching me. I felt a blush rise up through my chest. "Something wrong?"

She shook her head. "You move beautifully when you aren't think about it. Very naturally. Harri."

That did it for the blush. "Eat already. Wine? What's with that name?"

"Harri? It's you. I dub thee. You need a new name for a new you." Jess thought for a second, then nodded. "It's perfect."

I poured her a glass of wine.

"I forget about you and drinking. Your dad's still okay with it?"

"Since I'm not dying tomorrow? It's a tough line to walk back over. I think he's still be okay with it at the house, nothing like sitting down for a drink with your teenage daughter to unwind for the day, but I'll be on my own at college."

We ate in companionable silence but quickly, both of us starving. The food was fantastic, the wine better. But something about it left me a little nervous.

Jess noticed. "You keep taking tiny sips. It tastes different for you?"

"That hasn't changed. It's what you said, about the drinking. I don't know how I'm going to do, living in a dorm with a bunch of normal kids."

"Oh you'll do fine. Especially with the drinking. It'll make you real popular, real fast. I got the dishes?" She slid off the stool, causing the robe to slide all the way up her long thigh.

I looked away. "Dishwasher." I cradled up our glasses in one hand and the bottle with the other. "I'll move us to the fire."

Across the low room was an automatic fireplace flanked by two leather chairs. I set the wine on the table between them and clicked on the fire. It might not have been authentic, but it was authentically cheery against the storm outside. Jess crossed the room to me smooth and graceful. I could see in her the way she wanted me to walk. It made sense. The robe had loosened so it was open to down between her breasts and every other step there was a flash a pale thigh up to where it tied around her hips. Fuck that slut inside of me.

The tank top slide over my hard nipples with every breath, an unnerving reminder of the strength of the teenage hormones I'd fallen into headlong. I felt heavy ... down there, achy like, like I didn't know what. She must think I'm such a baby.

She sat, legs casually crossed, and tugged the edge of the robe to cover her thigh. It came open again when she bent to refill her glass. The cloth gaped open at the neck, exposing the swell of her bare breasts. I bent to refill my glass before she caught me staring. I couldn't miss my rock hard nipples, the curve and sway of my own breasts. I'd bet neither could she. The fire felt good beside me.

"So," she said at long last, a pleasant distraction. "Any bright ideas on figuring out the new you?"

"Almost everything's something I haven't done before. Not like this."

"Point. But that's too easy an answer. What about physical things, physical things you know have changed. How do you feel about those?"

"Now you've lost me." Well, not really. But there were some physical things I was willing to talk about and some ...

"I-eeee there's no avoiding a couple of awkward questions. What about your period? How's that for an entry into normal womanhood?"

I shook my head. "I still don't cycle. They're keeping me on depo shots, keeping me evened out, stretch out the shocks to the system, so to speak. Heavy on the hormones, light on the womanhood."

"Hormones! That we can - ah, hmm." Jess stammered into silence.

"The more embarrassed you are the worse it is for me." I was glad the darkness hid my burning face. "If there's something you want to say, spit it out."

"I couldn't help from noticing that you've got some, well, raging ... hormones. Is that polite enough?"

"My," and I gestured vaguely at my chest, "these?"

She nodded quickly. "What's it from? If you don't mind me ... asking."

"Mostly me." Because I'm a slut. "Mostly the way things ... feel." I'm a fucking slut. "I'm not used to wearing clothes that are ... soft." Ah.

"So it's not ... me," she said. "Because I get the impression you've been ... noticing things. About me, I mean. I mean, I can't help noticing you ... noticing."

"I, yes. But I - I." Shit. I'd asked for an honest question. "I've seen a lot more of you this afternoon, literally, and walking a mile in your clothes when they're clothes like this puts a different spin on things. On my life." I'm afraid I'm a slut, Jess. "I think the world of you, Jess, and when things are okay for you to do and wear, then it's a lot easier for me." Phew. That sounded complimentary.

"I don't - ah, ignore it." She gulped her wine. "What about hobbies and other things? Things you liked to do before that are different now?"

"There I know what you mean, but I don't have any good answers." Is being a slut a hobby? "I liked to run before, when I felt good, and that hasn't changed. Reading? Writing? What else did I really do?"

"I think you sell yourself short. Sure it was a crap life, but I never thought you were horribly unhappy, not when we saw you. We were just kids, so hobbies and passions might not be the right words, but you remember how much we liked dressing up and putting on plays? Making Jimmy play the other princess so Matt and I could both be dashing heroes?"

I laughed. "Probably scarred that boy for life. He kept trying to kiss me and I had to keep telling him that the super princesses didn't kiss each other."

She laughed too. "I - I probably shouldn't tell you this, but he's still got this enormous crush on you. It's killing him he can't get out of his job all week and just, and this is the funny part, it's like he thinks if you just stumble across him alone in a room you'll take care of the rest. Nervous little kid. Matt and I feel bad for him. And feel free to tease Jimmy about this when you see him on Saturday."

Jimmy was eighteen - exactly my age. And he hoped I'b be a slut and jump him. If he was allowed to be the nervous little kid, what did that mean for me?

"A crush - on me?"

"I will say this. He has been pumping iron since the funeral. He's almost got as much muscle as Matt these day."

I was so confused - Jimmy, the way she was looking at me. Her stare burned holes in my my chest. I realized I was sitting exactly like I'd been in the car. It was dark - it didn't matter. My nipples were on fire. I had to be the grownup here. I stood, a little woozy. "Come on. Let's get into some real clothes." I emptied the bottle into our glasses. I glanced at her and caught her staring at my swaying tits.

"Err, Harriet, Harri, do you know where you're going?"

I blushed again. "No."

She led me to Aunt Cathy's old room and flicked on the light. I walked past her. It was exactly how I remembered it and I half expected to feel ... something. The room was frilly, flowy, girly. She'd only been forty when she died - a sudden, freak aneurism, so she was only ... thirty-six when she last lived here? Our lives were filled with women dying young. But Aunt Cathy was dead. It was just a room.

Jess stopped in the doorway. She tugged the robe back tighter, making things a touch easier for me.

"Something the matter?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Harri, but you haven't ever gone through a dead woman's room before, right?"

That name. She was forcing it on me. I nodded.

"Then there's one big thing we need to cover, and blunt is good."

"Blunt is good." I leaned back against Aunt Cathy's bed, arms crossed.

Jess spun the desk chair around and straddled it. The chairback hid everything, but I knew her legs were wide open and it itched in my mind. "Aunt Cathy was a vivacious woman with her own life, every life has little secrets, and when we go through her things we're going to find those secrets. And it's best if we keep those secrets, right? I was saving this room until you got here, and probably for last. Since she was a woman it's best if we deal with some of these things and not the boys."

"I'm in a foreign country. There will be shocks, but I can deal with it one thing at a time."

"It's not just Aunt Cathy, I guess. You said you've ... seen more of me today than, well. The point is that for you to do this week right, you're going to see a lot of me. I'm going to have to tell you things and show you things. And I'm going to see a lot of you, too. Things are going to change between us."

"Change I'm plenty used to these days. I may be slow in adapting, but change I'm used to." I held out my hand. "To hell to whoever we were before. Deal?"

She shook it. "Harri, you're still exactly who you were before. And so am I. That's what you're going to learn this week. But first things first. Night clothes. And your first shock." She went over to the wardrobe and pulled open a drawer, poking around its contents. "Aunt Cathy liked lingerie."

"So? Ladies like having matching things. You said so yourself."

"Not matching things, lingerie." Jess pulled a gauzy purple thing made of dangling straps out of one of the drawers.

That I had to see. I took it from her and held it to the light. Like the tank top I wore, it was shriveled as if it wouldn't come alive until stretched over flesh. You'd be able to see everything through it. There was a pale stain in what I took to be the crotch. My fingertips tingled where I held it. Aunt Cathy. "What is this?"

"She liked to wear things like that when she was home alone or under her clothes because it made her feel good." She took the purple thing and folded it back into the drawer. The next drawer was just stockings. The last of the little drawers Jess cracked open and shut quickly. "Well, we've got some things I don't think will be too shocking to wear. For emergency purposes like these. But it's going to be pushing you."

"More than what you put me in earlier?"

"Point." She pulled out some scraps of fabric and laid them on the desk. "Bikini cut? Boyshorts? What do you feel like? Probably enough of the thong today."

"I ... don't know what any of that means."

"Boyshorts it is, and," she darted back to pull something out the dresser. "You remember this? The old nightgown she used to let you wear?"

The nightgown was white with little red hearts on it. "I remember this! I forgot all about it! That, that is good. A happy piece of the past." I picked it and the panties up.

Jess looked like she was waiting for something to happen. The tie on the robe had loosened again, but she kept the robe closed with a clutched fist. "Ummmm -"

"Harriet," I prompted.

"Harri. How ... close ... are we going to be this week?" Her body was tense.

"How close. Like ... sisters? Like the old days?"

She relaxed immediately. "Then get out while I change."

I walked out into the hall and next door to Aunt Cathy's bathroom. The wine had gone straight to my bladder and it was as good a time as any to cross another milestone - taking the piss in front of all those mirrors.

Aunt Cathy's bathroom had a wall of mirrors, like some Frankenstein of 80's renovation. I could see my slut self everywhere. I could see her hard nipples everywhere. I could see her pert ass in tiny cutoffs everywhere. I pondered turning off the light but, no, that would be cheating. Besides, I was tipsy and kind of wanted to see myself.

I sucked in to unbutton the cutoffs and shimmied them down my hips. It was the sexiest thing I ever saw. I ripped the tank top off and my breasts bounced free. In the mirror I watched a teen with a flushed face and blond bob squeeze her thighs over a skimpy black thong. I ran my hands up my sides and slowly cupped my breasts until my nipples slid between my fingers. Fuck, my skin was so smooth. It was supposed to be rough and flaky. I squeezed each index and middle finger together, lightly pinching my nipples. In between panting breaths I moaned just a tiny bit.

It was the moan that set me free. I closed my eyes, spun around, and grabbed the cold sink with both hands. I had to snap out of it. This couldn't be who I was and I had to get control. Yet I knew that if a bull-cock man walked in right now ... he'd see me bent over, presenting my wet slit, ready to be taken from behind. And I think I -was- wet - I could feel a coldness where something slightly sticky was trying to glue the tops of my thighs together. All he'd have to do is yank my nasty thong aside and penetrate this slut to the core with hard cock. I wouldn't see him coming. I wouldn't be able to stop it.

Even as something spasmed low in my abdomen, that thought was like a dash of cold water. The mood was broken. I opened my eyes and there was just a girl in the mirror, a tired girl. I stood up and she had breasts, just breasts. I pushed the thong down and sat on the toilet.

I had to kick the thong off to wipe. It wasn't just the urine - I had to dry off my inner thighs. It's just a vulva, I repeated to myself. It was ... plumper than before, at the airport, not that I was looking! There was more labia showing, more of ... everything. I could barely feel anything through the layers of toilet paper I used, but from the inside it felt ... like skin? The thought reassured me. It wasn't good or bad, just sensitive. Just skin.

The boyshorts looked like regular shorts, but when I pulled them up they slid right into place, stretched across my ass but cut away to leave a little bit of cheek at the bottom. The front was totally smooth. Smooth I could live with.

The old nightgown was tight around my shoulders, taut across my chest, and came down to an inch below my crotch. No wonder we stopped wearing these. Between the heart prints I could see the shadows where my nipples were. "She does this on purpose," I muttered. I brushed my teeth.

I picked up the thong to leave with the rest of Jess's borrowed clothes. It was ... moist. I sniffed and detected a pungent, spicy odor, an odor that was starting to be familiar to me. Slut. I had to leave it - there was nothing I could do.

Back in Aunt Cathy's room, Jess was at the desk, idly going through drawers, dumping things into a cardboard box. She had on a matching pair of boyshorts and a little spaghetti-strap tank top that stopped well above her bellybutton. She looked like a Victoria Secret model. She was way too hard on herself.

"Took you long enough. I found some things that might help you the next few days." She pointed at a little travel makeup kit.

Jess turned to look at me, no, stare. I could feel it happening again, the beginnings of a blush, a tightening in my nipples.

She flipped open the makeup kit. "It's nice stuff, good brushes. You were about the same coloring, so the shades will look good on you. She'd want you to have it."

"Thanks, Jess. But that's it for now. I can't handle much more." I looked around Aunt Cathy's room. "I assume you're in here tonight?"

"I'm on the sofa. You're in here tonight." She laughed. "Unless you've got an objection besides 'but I like sleeping on sofas.' I can deal. Anything else?"

I thought for a second. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but, I feel like we used to be really close, and we drifted apart. Most of it was me being a crabby bitch, but it seems like you just let it happen, too? You really don't have to answer."

thenry
thenry
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