I was going to post it after The Loud Warrior wraps, but AberrantScript suggested that we publish our 100th story together; we're basically joined at the hip by this point, so why not? It is dedicated my friend Spagthesis who writes the most off the wall stuff this side of the loony bin (that's meant as a compliment, btw). I don't think I'm the best, but with every story, I push myself to be my best. It's a little stressful and there are times I just wanna throw my hands up and dab out. Spag, with his work, reminds me, however, why I started doing this in the first place: To have fun. Spag, this is for you.

Lincoln Loud sat up, swung his legs over the edge of his bed, and raked his fingers through his white, sweat-matted hair. His face was flush with heat and warm perspiration trickled down his face and bare chest in sticky rivulets. He swallowed, grabbed the can of Coke from the nightstand, and took a deep drink.

It was late August - smack dab in the middle of summer's doggiest days - and central Michigan was in the grip of an historic heatwave that, the weathermen said, rivaled the Great Heatwave of '81, whatever that was. It wasn't expected to break for another three days, and 1216's A/C was completely out.

But of course.

Dad - God love the guy - was the biggest tightwad this side of Bikini Bottom and, somewhere along the way, became convinced that he was Bob Villa...only better. Those two flaws (and that's exactly what they were) combined to brew the perfect storm of misery. He'd been clanging around in the basement for two days and even though he was stumped, he was too proud to admit it and call for help. Because of this, the inside of the house was hotter than an oven and everyone barely clung to life. Luna lay prone on her bed in just her underwear, panting; Lori fanned herself with a comic book she flinched from Lincoln's room; Lana rolled naked in a backyard mud patch (wait, she does that every day), and Lynn sat perfectly still instead of working up a sweat - that was Lynnese for running around and kicking balls like a doofus.

Yep, the Louds hated life kind of a lot right now, and the dread possibility of more days like this - and those sticky, humid, sleepless nights - made Lincoln want to hang himself.

He drained the last of the soda, crushed the can with a big, manly belch, then slammed it down on the table. His mouth was still dry and his throat parched. Barkeep, I think I'll have another. He stood, and his bladder sloshed.

Better hit the john first.

Stretching with a yawn, he went into the preternaturally silent hall. On any given day in the house of Loud, noise and activity reigned, but not now; it was so quiet that it actually unsettled him a little. Since heat rises and the second floor was thus hotter than the first, everyone was probably clustered around the living room like limp rags, or maybe they were crowding around the open freezer and basking in what little cool air they could. He chose to stay up here because c'mon, he loved his sisters but he didn't wanna be up their butts 24/7 - he wanted peace and solitude. And to be cool, but that goes without saying.

He passed Lola and Lana's door, then came to a halt and backed up when a voice called out to him. Lola, clad in a pink dress and white silk gloves that reached to her elbows, knelt in front of her bed facing him. Sunlight streaming through the window glinted like fire on her silver tiara and her hands rested gently on her knees. Her face was beet red and her hazy eyes narrowed to watery slits; she tilted her head slightly back and smiled slyly, her moist, pink lips pulling back to reveal the svelte gap between her front teeth.

What did she want?

Oh, wait, don't tell me - she wants me to fan her with a palm frond or something like she's the Queen of Bartertown and I'm a no name, dust dwelling drifter. Uh-uh, not happening. He'd rather she dig up all the dirt she had on him and bright it straight to Mom and Dad than have to put up with being Lola's servante for the day. Under normal circumstances...well, that depended on what information she had to blackmail him with (oh, I didn't use a coaster? Tattle away. Wait, you know about that time me and Clyde stole a vape pen from Flip's and smoked water vapor until we threw up? Heh, where would you like to me stand, Your Highness?). Right now, in the middle of a heatwave so hot the very air itself sizzled? Screw you, glitter bitch.

"Lincy," she whined, "come here."

"Why?" he demanded.

"I need you."

There was a stange, abject inflection in her voice and her brow softened with what he took to be sincerity. Should he go to her? What if it was a trap? What if she knew blackmail wasn't going to work and set up a bear trap instead? He saw steely jaws snapping closed around his ankle, and Lola's eyes filling with literal fire as she rose to her feet, palms up, fingers hooked, cackling, I got you now, Lincoln!

He hesitated for a moment, poised on the verge of marching off, then went into the room; the back of his neck tingled as if in expectation of a blow, and he stepped real freaking lightly just in case the floor started to give out under him. Lola tilted her head back even more and her smile took on a smug cast like a satisfied cat. He stopped in front of her and put his hands on his hips, then nervously folded them over his chest. "What?" he asked.

By way of replying, Lola straightened her back, bit her lower lip, and brushed the hem of her dress up one leg, velvety pink fabric grazing pale, creamy flesh. Lincoln's gaze darted to her hand, then to her face. Smoke swirled in her eyes, and something about the intensity of her stare made him feel suddenly uncomfortable. She wore dark blue eyeshadow, he realized, and her lips sparkled with pallid pink gloss; her cheeks were flushed with heat and her nostrils flared slightly as she drew deep, labored inhalations.

Three months ago, he came out of his room long past midnight to use the bathroom and found Lori lying in the hallway on her side. His heart dropped into his stomach, and he raced over to help her. Before he even knelt beside her, he could smell the booze; she sneaked out and went to a party with Carol Pingrey and that Becky girl everyone thought was Russian but wasn't. She looked at Lincoln much the same way Lola was right now - woozy, unfocused. Uh, was Lola drinking more than imaginary tea these days?

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting naked," she purred.

With that, she crossed her arms across her stomach in an X and peeled the dress over her head. Beneath, she was entirely nude save for pink stockings pulled up to her knees, and shock jolted Lincoln's heart like a fist. He screamed and danced back, his feet tangling; his stomach shot into his throat and he pinwheeled his arms to keep his balance.

Lola tossed the dress aside and rested her hands on her knees, her blush deeper now.

Lincoln instinctively slapped his hand over his eyes. "What are you doing?" he cried.

"I told you, Lincy," she said seductively, "getting naked. For you."

"I don't want you to get naked!"

She giggled. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

She issued a thoughtful hum. "How can you be sure? You've never seen my body."

He opened his mouth to speak, but what could he say? He wasn't the brightest when it came to girls, but the lust in her tone was pretty freaking unmistakable. Was she, like...ugh! What was wrong with her? "Put your clothes back on, okay? I don't want to see your body."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because!"

"Just look at it," she said.

"No!"

"Please?" she asked. From her voice, he could imagine her rocking forward on her knees and staring up at him with a beseeching expression. "Look at my body, Lincy."

He didn't want to - it was profoundly wrong to see your sister naked - but he found his fingers parting anyway. Perhaps he was morbidly curious, or maybe he was a pervert, but he'd never seen a girl with no clothes on before (aside from Lily and Lisa as babies, but that didn't count) and a part of him sorta did want to see.

Lola's smile widened and she thrust her chest proudly out. Her breasts were tiny, less than a handful and her light pink nipples were puffy. The curve of her hips was surprisingly pronounced for a girl her age, and the very tip of her slit - a deep and fertile garden of existential mystery - was just visible between her thighs. Lincoln's heartbeat sped up and his throat went dry...err...dry-er.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

God help him, he kind of did. She looked soft and warm. If he touched her, her skin would be like satin, and that thought - running his hands slowly over Lola's chest and stomach, cupping and squeezing her delicate breasts - stirred him in a way that a brother ought not be stirred for his sister. He gulped and allowed his hand to slowly drop. Lola flashed a winning smile and flicked her eyes down to her chest. "Do you like it?" she repeated.

His dick twitched and started to grow; her eyes went to it and filled with devious delight. She looked up at him. "You do like it."

What could he do but nod?

She scooted forward, and his chest clutched. She looked up into his downturned face and reached for him. "Do you want to play a game with me?" she asked his crotch. Lincoln stiffened as she deftly undid the button and pulled the zipper down. "It'll be really fun."

Lola yanked his jeans down to his knees, and his dick strained against the tight cotton of his underwear. She pinched the material between her thumb and forefingers and pulled it over his erection; it popped out and Lola went cross-eyed, her breath catching a tiny, enchanted oooohhhh escaped her lips. "It's really big," she said breathlessly. She lifted her hand and tentatively touched him, the scrape of her glove drawing a sharp exhalation from his throat. Lincoln gritted his teeth and threw his head back, and Lola's mouth dropped open. She leaned in, and when her wet, pillowy lips touched his head, electric sensation exploded through him and his hips bucked reflexively forward. His dick plunged into her mouth and the dank, blistering heat of her saliva knocked a wavering agggh from his chest.

Her eyes widened in shock, then she spat him out in a gush of drool and precum. "We can play that game later," she admonished and sat back on her knees. "First, I wanna try something else." Her voice lowered and her grin took on a dirty cast. "Do you wanna play?"

Lincoln tried to speak, but his vocal cords were locked, so he simply nodded instead.

"Good," Lola said. "I want you…"

Yes? YES? GOD I WANT YOU TOO.

"...to piss on me."

Lincoln came crashing back to earth like a 747 with a bum engine. "W-What?"

She threw her head back and arched her back, her little breasts pushing insistently out. "Pee on me, Lincy," she said huskily, "make me your potty."

Lincoln was totally lost now. She wanted him to pee on her? That was gross! Like, nastier even than Lana. "No," he spat, "God, that's really messed up."

"Please?" Lola asked. She reached out and closed her hand around Lincoln's dick; a shudder streaked down his spine and his hips bucked again. He let out a strangled moan, and Lola smiled smugly at the power her touch exerted over him. "If you do that for me, I'll do something for you." She lifted up, brought his head to her mouth, and rolled her sultry eyes up to his. Slowly, sensually, she flicked her pink tongue against his underside. Lincoln's butt cheeks clenched and a gasp ripped from his chest; the sensation of her licking him, then taking him between her lips, sent sharp, trembling pangs through his body and made his knees shake. His hands went to her head and his fingers tangled in her sweaty blonde hair. She smiled against his dick, then slid forward, taking him deep and swishing her boiling spit around his tightening rod. Lincoln's brain scrambled and his body twitched spasmodically. Lola reached his base, then pulled deliberately back, her lips raking his flesh. His toes curled and he shook like a powder keg getting ready to blow. She spat him out and smirked smugly. "Pee on me?" she asked.

Lincoln's head bobbed up and down. "O-Okay," he said.

"Thank you, Lincy," she breathed. She sat back on her knees and shoved her chest thirstily out, her flesh yearning to be wetted by her brother's urine. Lincoln licked his lips and rubbed the back of his neck. Was he really going to do this?

The memory of Lola's mouth decided him.

Yes, he was.

Taking himself in his hand, he pointed his dick at her tits, and she bite her bottom lip in anticipation. Lincoln strained but nothing came. Lola stared at his dick and Lincoln shifted uncomfortably. "Could you...not look at me?" he asked.

She closed her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he strained again. Peeing through a boner was almost impossible, but after a few moments, he felt it starting to come. He gritted his teeth and pushed like a woman giving birth. "Come on, Lincy," Lola urged, "piss on your little sister."

He strained even harder. Finally, his dick jerked and a long, yellow stream arced out, hitting Lola between her breasts and making her breath catch. She moaned in the back of her throat and swayed slightly from side to side. Piss splattered her tits, her stomach, her chest, and her throat, then coursed down her body like baptismal waters. A look of rapture touched her features, and her eyelids rapidly fluttered, lending her the appearance of a girl in the middle of a beautiful dream. She pressed her hands to her stomach and rubbed it in, purring with satisfaction. Lincoln gaped at her, so turned on he could barely stand; piss sluiced down her abdomen and inner thighs, dripping into the dank folds of her hidden sex.

His dick jerked, and the last of it hit her chin, just below her bottom lip. She panted lightly for air and fixed him with love drunk eyes. Sunlight glistened on her pee slathered body and and her face burned a deep shade of crimson; she leaned forward, and Lincoln eagerly presented his dick. She wrapped her hand around his base and molded her lips to his head, then went down with agonizing delay, her tongue lapping along his shaft and her torrid saliva seering his sensitive skin. He wound his fingers through her locks again and nudged his hips forward. She pulled back, then sank down again, her movements getting faster and her tongue making desperate love to his dick. He thrust gently back and forth and she matched his movements, her lips tight around his pulsing cord. She swirled her tongue, drew back, then surged forward again with a muffled umph. Excess saliva, salty precum, and traces of piss filled her mouth and dribbled down her chin. Lincoln rocked on his heels, head back, mouth open, eyes closed, and propelled himself against the back of his little sister's throat. On some level, he was disgusted with himself, but right now, in the heat of the moment, when nothing else mattered but the bursts and whorls of pleasure wracking his clutching body, he didn't care. The world was reduced entirely to Lola's sweet mouth and working tongue, her silky hair, her hand lightly massaging him, and her muffled, mouth-full-of-cock moans.

Breaking from him, she stroked his shaft and stared up at him. ""Tell me when you're gonna cum." She slipped the head back into her mouth and went down. Lincoln tugged at her hair and tried to articulate a reply, but his words turned into a breathy hmmm. Taking her cues from his body, Lola went faster, her lips gliding along his wet rod and her tongue lashing his head on every backswing. Lincoln's middle filled with liquid fire and his climax expanded in his stomach like lead; he hanged his head and thrusted wildly, the damp friction steadily building until his every atom tensed with his coming end.

"I'm gonna cum," he croaked.

Lola went down one last them, came back really slow, then spat him, her hand jacking up and down, coaxing his orgasm forth. "Cum on my tits," she said.

Giving himself over to feeling, he threw his head back and let it come; thick, silvery ribbons spurted from his tip and splashed her face. She leaned back and held her dick to her chest - his second volley hit her left breast and ran down her stomach in a fat, whitish glob; his third filled and overflowed the hollow of her throat; and the final landed just above her belly button. It mixed with piss and rolled down her stomach before disappearing between her legs.

Shudders wracked Lincoln's body and his mind started to clear like it always did when he nutted. Jesus God, did he really just piss on one of his sisters? Then fuck her mouth? He swallowed hard and lifted his head. Lola stared up at him through slitted eyes, her shimmering lips slightly parted and her naked chest rising and falling with the rhythm of her breathing. Cum painted her chin, chest, and stomach, some still sliding down her flesh like fat drops of rain. Her hair, straight and smooth when they started, was messy and matted now, and sweat oozed from her forehead in thin rivulets, mingling with the piss and sperm. She prided herself on always being done up and glamorous, but Lincoln had never seen her more beautiful than she was in that moment.

She daintily extended her index finger, swiped it through a wad of cum collecting on her rigid nipple, and then sucked it off with a hum of delight. "That was a lot of fun," she said.

Yeah...as wrong as letting his little sister suck his dick might be...it was fun.

Realizing his pants were still around his ankles, he hurriedly pulled them up and tossed a worried glance over his shoulder. The doorway stood empty, the hall silent; if anyone happened along while he and Lola were "playing" and saw, they wouldn't have crept respectfully away until they were finished. Therefore, no one knew, whew. Imagine having to explain that to Mom and Dad!

Lola got to her feet, turned, and picked up her dress. Her butt cheeks parted as she bent over, and her slick pink center, for one glorious moment, was bared completely; her tight little butthole, the full swell of her lips, and everything in between. She stood up straight, and Lincoln looked away as she pulled her dress over her head. She smoothed it out, then came over, pushed up on her tippy toes, and pressed her lips to the side of his face. Her tongue poked out, and she smiled against when he jumped. "We can play another game later on," she said, "if you want."

"W-What game is that?" Lincoln asked. He already had one in mind, and hoped to God it was the one she wanted to play.

She splayed her hands on his chest, steadied herself, and brushed her lips to his ear. "Deflower your little sister."

Lincoln gulped.

Yep.

It was.

"O-Okay."

Lola smiled and patted his chest. "Thank you, Lincy."

Lincoln had never been particularly close with Lola, at least not anymore than he was with his other sisters, but from that day on, they played together a lot.