Saturday Story 2025 #38 (Vacant Smile)
New story on my Patreon. Synopsis below:
Gina’s sister, Amanda, has been acting weird lately. What did Janice do to her? – a sexy boobnosis FF piece.
https://www.patreon.com/posts/139893254
To read this story before anyone else, head over to my Patreon page and become Spell… B-O-U-N-D, too. The minimum pledge for this type of early access is $5 per month.
An excerpt is available below:
Amanda stopped in front of her older sister at the edge of the pool, her arms falling slack to her sides. Her eyes were vacant and strangely wide, as if she couldn’t really see what was in front of her. There was a smile on her face, but it was a hollowed-out, performative sort of happiness, the kind worn at gunpoint, or worse. In a perfectly even voice, she said, “Mommy wants to talk to you. Please follow me.”
Gina, who was lying back on a sun-warmed lounge chair with a battered copy of Vogue splayed across her stomach, let the glossy pages flutter closed. The chlorine haze of the figure-eight pool was a surprisingly comforting compared to the house, that mausoleum of new money and old tensions, and she had been trying to make the most of her Saturday. She blinked up at her sister and squinted. “Mommy?”
It was the first time Amanda had ever referred to their stepmother as that, at least in Gina’s hearing. “Mommy” was a word both sisters had banished from their vocabulary after the funeral, exiled to the same bleak hinterland as “hope” or “happily ever after.”
Until their biological mother’s breast cancer, they’d been a tight unit, three against the world, and their father, Abner, had seemed little more than a looming financial abstraction. When the disease destroyed everything they knew, their father replaced her with a walking cliché, a plastic-smiled, contour-perfect, twice-widowed “lifestyle influencer” named Janice. Both sisters had tacitly agreed to make the best of the inheritance and the worst of the woman. To them, Janice was nothing more than a parasite, thriving in the cracks of the family.
Gina watched Amanda for a long beat, trying to read her expression and finding nothing familiar in the watery smile or the slightly tremulous hands. “Did she… say what about?” Gina asked.
“No. She’s waiting for you in the master bedroom. Come,” Amanda intoned, with a stilted, automaton precision.
Gina swung her feet off the chair and straightened up, gathering her terrycloth towel around her shoulders. “Are you okay, Amanda? You look like you haven’t slept since—”
(…)
Should you decide to join this cause, your support will help make sure this site thrives and that more and more content is produced for you daily. Thanks.
