Quit Pro Quo; Part one
Kosdumodjin
A brother and sister, and their evolving relationship.

-1-

	"She loomed a whole head taller then him, intimidating her younger 
brother, pinning his back against the wall of the family room with the sheer terror 
that she generated in him.  All that Paul could do was to alternate looking at her 
clenched fists, angry eyes, the heavy breathing coming from her mouth, and wait 
for the beating that may take place.  Sometimes she would keep him frozen in fear 
for ten or twenty minutes and then just walk away, whereas other times Isabel 
would feign walking away only to spin and launch a salvo of punches to his face.  
He didn't do anything to merit the beating, just as he never asked to born three 
years her junior, nor did he want the reality that his father was disgusted that he 
was beaten up by a girl, but like the fact that she would come his bed at night and 
revel in her dominance over him, those were the facts of life."
	
	"So you were hanging you're your sister over a railing?" asked the female 
voice which interrupted Paul Dalton's Reverie of his earlier life with his chestnut 
haired sister.
	"Well, Yeah Tracy." Paul answered uncomfortably, "It was the first time I 
was able… to…defend myself."
	"But, I mean, she's your sister, and violence against women is wrong." 
Tracy retorted with a tone of angry shock in her voice.
	"I agree with you."  Paul said apologetically, "My dad is an old school 
guy, who implanted those values on me, and I haven't done anything to her since, 
because I'm not sick like that."
	Tracy looked to the ground with an all to familiar look that Paul had seen 
before in his short teenage dating career.  He knew that she was now considering 
whether they should be dating, and likely would talk to her friends about this and 
they would reaffirm her doubts.
	"So we still on for the movies tomorrow?" Paul asked with a touch of 
sorrow resonating in every word.
	"I don't know, I'll talk to you later." She responded coldly, as she turned 
and walked away from the porch of the Dalton residence, the same porch where 
the two 17 year old shared their first kiss, and where they always kissed when 
parting ways.  Of course as he entered the house and closed the door, the 
significance of Tracy departing without a kiss, or even looking back, cementing 
the reality that Paul had lost another girlfriend for bearing his soul.  The argument 
he often heard was, "Relationship experts that we study in man and society class, 
advise women to be wary of dating men with issues from the past, as they will 
likely resurface in the relationship." Ironically, those were the same experts who 
advise couples to be honest with each other.  
	
He rubbed his hands through his sandy blonde hair to assuage the anxiety 
he was feeling over the catch twenty-two that he seemed to be trapped in.  He 
entered the kitchen to locate some sort of food that would succeed where his 
hands failed, when he noticed a light emanating from the phone on the wall, 
which indicated the line was in use.  Since his mother was out, it could only mean 
that it was his twenty-year-old sister, chatting inanely with one of her college 
friends on the phone in her upstairs room.  An evil smile came over Paul's face as 
his fingers went from his head to the phone.  He picked up the receiver and began 
dialing a long distance number, which was greeting by a hoarse shrieking from 
upstairs.  Impervious to the shrieks of, "I'm on the phone! Hang up now!" which 
could also be heard from the earpiece between dials on the phone, Paul finished 
dialing the number and after a slight pause, proceeded to speak innocently into the 
phone.
"Hello? Hello?"	
"Get off the Phone!" came Isabel's enraged reply.
"Oh sorry, I didn't know you were on the phone." He answered with mock 
sincerity, as he hung up the phone and began snickering to himself.  After two 
minutes he repeated the entire sequence with the lone difference being his mock 
apology, which went, "Oh sorry, I didn't know that you were still on the phone."  
Paul's snickering became heartfelt laughter.

"I'll call you back Shannon!" Isabel yelled into the phone before she 
slammed it down.  Enraged she stormed down the stairs to third floor of the spit 
level duplex.  After failing to locate the object of her madness in the kitchen she 
stormed into the adjoining family room to see her brother standing by the railing 
with a smile on his face.
"Why are being such an asshole with the phone?! She demanded.
Paul shrugged innocently and asked, "What? I didn't know you were on 
the phone." As his mock sincerity permeated the air.  Isabel wanted to pound the 
smug look out of his face, but the proximity of the railing, where she was dangled 
perilously three years ago, struck a chord of fear in her heart.  At that time they 
were roughly the same height, but now at 5' 9", 140 pounds, the top of her head 
reached the middle of the nose on his 6' 2", 170-pound frame.  She turned and 
began to walk back to her room, the sound of his laughter echoing through the 
house.  

A sickly feeling touched her soul, the same one she felt from the myriad of 
ways that her brother now tormented her mentally.  As she approached her room 
it reminded her of the way it felt when bullied by their father.  He had only 
physically assaulted her twice, but the beatings were so severe that she never 
talked back to him after.  The desire to say something clever when he would go 
though a specific line of questioning intended to make her feel like idiot, burned 
to come out as she grew up.  But she new that such a Neanderthal needed to 
compensate for his inadequacies, and if he couldn't take it out on her mind, her 
physical health would suffer.  Although her mother had divorced the bastard two 
years ago, to say that her esteem had been scarred would be implying that there 
had been any healing at all.  While she thought of the pain that her father had left 
in her heart, and of the salt that her twisted brother added to her wounds, she wept 
in her bedroom, as for her, these were the facts of life.


Weight training was a release to Isabel.  It was a confidence booster as she 
found it harder to stay in shape.  She was quite the partier in her teenage tears 
unlike her brown nosed brother who ran cross-country and was part of the student 
council.  However, she had paid for her choices with a layer of flab on her waist 
for her 20 birthday six months ago.  Now toned and tight, it was the first thing in a 
long time that made her feel good, which must have been why her young brother 
was acting like a macho jackass.   He overheard that she was lifting weights and 
insisted on her taking him on.  Much like her father did, he bullied her by cutting 
her off when she tried to object to what he was saying.   He just wouldn't let up 
and finally she gave in to his insistence that they wind up on their bellies and face 
each other on the living floor.  
"Fine let's get this over with." She acquiesced, to get him to shut up.
"Okay on three," he said with the smarmy smile that Isabel was all too 
familiar with.  As they locked hands an empty feeling came over her, as she new 
this was just another example of male ego in her life, trying to suppress her sprit.  
The count of three came and went and the to arms flexed.  After a brief moment 
Isabel's backhand moved slowly toward the floor.  Fifteen seconds later, the 
carpet touched the skin of her hand.
"Let's go again." Paul said his face somewhat red from the exertion, 
which surprised Isabel, as she had entered the contest with her morale so low, that 
she's lost before she began.  And she noticed a look of mild desperation in the 
eyes of her brother.  He had expected a lamb to the slaughter, not a fifteen second 
struggle.  Isabel felt a warm feeling permeate her chest.  Pride, a much more 
pleasant feeling than what her brother had planned for her.
"No that's ok, you won and I can handle that."  She replied sweetly to her 
brother.  She had realized that he probably felt the same way as she did when 
bullied by there father, and wanted to seize on the opportunity to make peace with 
her brother, by acquiescing, but for the first time voluntarily.
"No come on, one more time.  That was a warm-up." He said too slowly to 
cut her off.
"Alright." She said as they locked hands.  Last time she went into the 
match with her head down.  This time her head was up as there arm muscles 
tensed.  This time there hands remained motionless for about five seconds, until 
Paul's arm gave way slightly, and the contest remained in that position for forty 
seconds, after which they both looked at each in shock, for their differing reasons.
"Let's just call this one a tie." She said in a friendly tone.
"Okay." He agreed, rubbing his arm.  "Wow that weight training has made 
you strong."  She noted his tone seemed to be embarrassed and at the same time 
respectful.  It reminded her of the way that he used to talk to her when they 
younger.   For the rest of the day he was the nicest he had been for a long while.


That night as she lay in her bed her whole body was still tingling with the 
events of the day.  She flexed certain parts of her hard lightly muscled body, 
which only enhanced the experience more.   It had been more than three years 
since she felt this good about her self, and she decided that she wanted more. 


Eating his tuna sandwich Paul daydreamed about everything from his 
dating woes, to various science fiction movies.  The world of the imagination had 
always been a much better place for him to exist, everything in such an ideal state.  
Ironically his relationship with his sister had been at is best ever.  They conversed 
like normal people, and shared there feelings on there father, and all because he 
had reacted so gracefully to not winning the arm wrestle one six weeks ago.   
"Want to arm wrestle?" was the question his sister asked to wake him out 
of his daydream.									
	"What, oh sure." He responded amicably, successfully hiding his surprise, 
as they gripped each other's right hand on the floor of the living room.  Paul felt a 
surge of dire necessity as they passed the count of three.  He struggled with all of 
his might and for three seconds the test of strength remained even.  Then Paul 
gave ground and the two combatants settled on the same position where the 
previous match had ended, until another three seconds passed, after which the 
back of Paul's hand slowly made its way to the floor.
"Let's go again."  He blurted with a touch of desperation in his voice.
"Okay." She agreed confidently.  The next arm wrestle went at about the 
same pace as the previous one, except there were no breaks as Paul's knuckles 
were slowly guided to the carpet.
"Holy, are you ever strong." Paul said with intimidation being felt through 
to the core of his spine.  Hoping to mask his current feelings, Paul spoke with as 
much grace as possible, "I can't believe that you beat me, good for you."
"I've been working out with weights, that's all."  She said with a smile, as 
she flexed her somewhat pronounced bicep.  "Go ahead, touch it." 	
"Wow that's incredible, it's rock hard."  He said kindly with a smile, as he 
hoped to mask his feelings on inadequacy. 	
"Thank you Paul, that's nice of you to say."  Isabel remarked as she turned 
to walk away.  A feeling of dread permeated Paul's soul, as he noticed a hint of an 
evil smile on his sister's face before her back had turned completely to him.  


"There's a piece of pie for you on the counter."  were the final words Mrs. 
Dalton said to her daughter as she exited the side door to go to her Wednesday 
bridge game.
"Thanks mom" Isabel said as her mom closed the door.  Getting up from 
the lounge chair in front of the T.V. she turned to the kitchen only to see her 
brother beside the piece of pie with a fork.
"Hey! You've already had your piece."  She said as she moved towards 
Paul and the pie, her confidence up since her victory two weeks prior.
"Yeah, and I'm just going to have a little piece of this one."  He quipped 
as his fork dove down to the pie and brought a piece to his mouth.  To his surprise 
her hand locked on his wrist as the pie was inches from his mouth, and slowly his 
hand, the fork and piece of pie moved back to the pie plate.  As Isabel pried 
Paul's fingers loose from the utensil, and released her brother's wrist, his look of 
surprise added to the tingle she felt in her pelvis from overpowering her brother.  
After a couple of seconds Paul tried to quickly grab the fork and stuff the piece of 
pie into his mouth, but was intercepted and again Isabel forced the fork back to 
the plate.  However this time after forcing his digits from the piece of silverware, 
she planted her hand on the middle of his chest and slowly pushed him out of the 
kitchen, into the dining room, which exited opposite the television room.  She 
removed her hand from his chest and stared at him, at which point her brother 
tried to pass by her and gain entry to the kitchen.   She pinned him against the 
doorframe, to stop his forward momentum, and then pushed him back out of the 
kitchen.  With a look of dejection, her brother retired to his bedroom leaving her 
where she stood feeling relieved that he didn't go crazy like during the railing 
incident, and feeling wetter in her panties than when she won the arm wrestle.


Paul had decided that avoiding his sister for a month wasn't a good idea, 
especially since the previous evening his sister had decided to sit in the seat that 
there father sat in, not to mention the fact that the meat portions of her meals were 
now larger than his.  He had to do something to prevent his self-confidence level 
from eroding further; she had to be brought down a notch.  
"Let's have an arm wrestle."  He said to her as she watched TV in the 
chair that their father used to occupy.  After she confidently agreed, and they took 
there places on the floor, Paul reviewed the arm wrestling techniques in his mind 
that he had learned, and smiled slightly as he picture restoring there relationship 
to a more comfortable level.  The arm wrestle lasted 2 seconds before Paul's hand 
thumped on the floor.
"Oh my god, you've grown stronger since the last arm wrestle." Paul 
whimpered out, unable to conceal his fear.
"Yeah, I've moved up two weight categories on all of my lifts since then." 
She added with an evil smile on her face.  Paul stammered as he tried to collect 
himself to present his back-up plan.
"Lets try a mercy fight." He blurted with a hint of panic in his voice.
"What's that?" She asked, which had a calming effect on Paul.  Knowing 
that he had practiced with his friends and she had no experience gave him a sense 
of reassurance.  "We face each other and lock hands, and try to force the other 
persons back, until they give by saying mercy."	
"Okay, I'm ready." She answered as she faced him with her hands 
extended.
As soon as their hands joined Isabel began forcing Paul's hands back, 
However he quickly turned his hands to the floor, and felt a rush of joy at the 
sight of surprise on Isabel's face, and in the fact that with her focus thrown, he 
was now forcing her hands back.  She recovered and began to win again, but he 
just confidently twisted their hands to face the ceiling, and use the opportunity to 
gain control of the match.  Paul Knew that she was stronger, but he had the 
endurance and would wear her out, so he didn't worry when she began forcing his 
hands back again.  It was actually when he tried to swing their hands back to the 
ground that his concern began to mount, as his sister had caught on and wouldn't 
allow any lateral movement with his hands, meaning the only direction for them 
to go was backwards, which is where they went.  The pressure on the joints in his 
hands mounted causing a growing pain that could only be relieved by moving 
down.  Once he got to his knees he could move no farther, and the pain grew until 
he began to cry out.
"Aagghh! You win! Please stop!"
"No, you have to beg for mercy, if I understand the rules correctly."  She 
answered coolly.  A bit of anger surged into Paul, as he pushed with all of might, 
only to have Isabel push harder intensifying the pain so much that Paul could 
barely speak.	
"AAAGGHH!! M-m-mer-cy."  He squealed.  She released him leaving 
him there on his knees rubbing his hands.  While Paul tried to massage a healthy 
feeling back into his hands, he looked up at his sister as she walked away.  Her 
fists were clenched and she had a menacing look on her face that he hadn't seen 
since he was thirteen.

She waited for the sound of running water and brushing teeth that 
indicated her brother was done his breakfast and in the upstairs washroom.  She 
had her bikini ready.  The large wall-to-wall mirror would serve her purpose quite 
well.  The memory of recent events with her younger brother kept sending a 
wonderful tingling sensation through her body every time she thought of them.  
Life was the best it's ever been for her, as her college grades would attest to, as 
would her relationships with her friends.   It had been a week since there last 
episode and now she craved another.  She stepped into the washroom and began 
brushing her teeth at the left sink she looked at her brother in the wall mirror as he 
used the sink to the right.  As soon as he looked up she flexed her right bicep.  To 
Her delight, his reaction was a mixture of intimidation, and anger. He flexed his 
muscle beside hers, and dropped his jaw in shock.
"Holy shit you're getting bigger!"  She then compared her legs and chest 
to his and noticed that they were larger.  Then sensations that had occupied her 
body paled in comparison to what she felt now causing her to laugh sadistically.
"My shoulders are as wide as yours, and my chest and legs are bigger than 
yours!" The pathetic look on her brother's face propelled her laughter onwards, as 
did touching both of there biceps.  His though decent in form, was soft and 
squishy, while hers was rock solid. 
"Your chest is bigger just because you're a girl."  He retorted, as his face 
was red with embarrassment.
"There's a part of my chest that's muscle Paul, and it's bigger than your 
chest."
"No it isn't!"  He shouted defiantly.
"Well then I have a tape measure, we'll compare our body parts and that 
will decide."  She learned that her solid bicep was now only an inch smaller then 
his soft one.  To her delight her thigh measured and inch larger than his.  When 
her chest measured an inch larger than his, feelings of ecstasy shot through her 
body prompting another round of sadistic laughter.
"It because you're a girl." He feebly responded with a crackling in his 
voice as he finished brushing her teeth.
"Alright." She said challengingly. "If I lift heavier weights and in six 
weeks my chest grows even bigger will you admit it then?"
"Yeah sure." He answered as he dejectedly left the bathroom.  An evil grin 
spread across Isabel's face as she brushed her teeth and flexed.  She new that life 
would get better still as she would grow even stronger than Paul.  She rubbed her 
solid bicep muscle and relished the warm feeling that touched every part of her 
body.

Paul looked at the side door, from the couch by the railing where he sat.  
His mother, who had been sitting in the lounge chair across the room, had just left 
the house to go for tea with one of her friends, leaving him and Isabel alone on the 
couch watching television.  Vivid in his mind were the all round changes in his 
sisters attitude, specifically her ascending challenging postures.   Paul had decided 
to wait until an opportune moment presented itself to reassert his status by 
inflicting some mental tortures upon Isabel, and that moment had arrived.  He 
collected himself and began wiggling his fingers in front of his sister face so as to 
obstruct her view of the television.
"Quit it!" She yelled as she swatted his hand away from her. 
"Oh, I just have to stretch a little." He answered with mock sincerity, as he 
faked a yawn and dangled his hand in front of her face.
"I said quit it!" She yelled through clenched teeth.  Paul would have seen 
the demonic scowl on his sisters face had the force of her two-handed shove not 
spun his torso completely away from her.  Perhaps he would have glimpsed it had 
his sister's foot not planted square in his back to wedge his stomach against the 
side couch.   And though it was probably only five seconds that his hands 
uselessly pushed the side of the couch against the pressure exerted from her foot, 
to him it felt like an eternity.  He did glance and notice as his sister released him 
and walked away, that her fists were clenched, and that her face exuded a 
confident relishing of her power that had intensified since he last saw it two 
weeks ago.

Isabel admired her body through the mirror in her room.  The tight T-shirt 
and shorts she was wearing showed her somewhat pronounced muscular 
development, which she wore to watch the confidence seep from her brother, the 
same brother that replaced her father as her tormentor when her father left.  The 
empowerment and liberation she felt with her newly earned strength multiplied 
the lusty feelings of bliss that pulsated through her body to the reaches of her 
inner being.  For the first time she truly knew what it was to be alive, and though 
for a while she felt pity for her brother in that they shared the same father and that 
they probably shared similar esteem issues, he erased it by pulling that stunt on 
the couch last week.  He proved that he wanted to make her feel like crap to 
compensate for his own inadequacies, like his did father before him.  Another 
lesson not lost on her was the fact that her physical superiority put a stop to the 
abuse.  Now was the time to assert her self further so that such and an attempt at 
torture would never be made again.  As she entered the TV room, where Paul sat 
in the chair, she noticed the railing and paused, as the memory of her brother in 
state of rage landing a series of painful blows to her midsection and forcing her 
over the railing surfaced.  She reaffirmed herself knowing that Paul was raised not 
to hit girls and since their tests of strength didn't involve violence, she had 
nothing to fear.
"Paul my show is on." She said as she approached him.
"So? I'm watching baseball." Came the reply.
"I always watch this show, and I don't plan on missing it now."
"Watch it in a rerun."  He responded as his focus went back to the game.
"No I'll be watching it now." She strongly answered.
"I don't think so." He replied as he stood to face her holding the TV 
converter away from her.  She quickly grabbed his wrist and forced the converter 
from his hand and placed it on the chair.  His momentary bout of shock passed 
and he took the converter from the chair.  She again grabbed the converter from 
his hand, and placed her other palm square in the middle of his chest and pushed 
him away from the chair where she left the converter.  As they settled into the 
middle of the room, the mixed look of surprise and apathetic defeat that read on 
his face, shot sensational waves through her body that felt like a lightning bolt.  
But before she could finish savoring the experience a sense of dread spread 
through her as an enraged Look appeared on Paul's face that she last saw when he 
held her over the railing.  Panic encompassed her as blows rained into her 
midsection.  She blindly moved forward and extended her forearm; a moment 
later they were both sprawled on the floor with her on top.   She trembled and 
tried yelling at him in an angry voice, but was incomprehensible because of the 
fear that encompassed her, and garbled gibberish flowed from her mouth.  A few 
seconds later she realized that her forearm had pinned his head sideways on the 
floor.  One of his arms was pinned underneath his side while the other feebly 
flailed blows at her midsection, which she grabbed by the wrist and forced to the 
floor.  
"Get off of me!" he yelled.
"Are you calm?" she asked her voice crackling from the fact that her heart 
was still racing.
"Yes!" he shouted.
"You don't sound calm to me." She answered, the adrenaline still 
manifesting itself in the tone of her voice.  Paul's rage soared to new heights.  She 
felt him try to try to free his one hand, which she held fast in its place.  She then 
felt a spasmodic struggle from his whole body, which she countered by pushing 
her forearm into his neck.
"Oww." He cried out as she released the pressure.  "Please let me up."
"Are you calm?" she asked herself, still excited but calmer then before.
"Yes." Came the reply in a meek voice.  She got off of her brother and 
turned to go to the chair, with a feeling of power that surged throw every limb of 
her body.  Before she could fully revel in the sensation, her brother was back on 
her with a series of blows to her midsection that where as ineffectual as the last as 
hard muscle deflected his punches.  She grabbed him by the scruff and forced him 
back to the floor, implanting her forearm on the side of his neck, which caused his 
body to turn on its side and pin one of his arms.   She grabbed his free arm and 
pinned it on the floor, which he vainly struggled to free. 
"I'm going to kill you!" he raged as every part of his body tried to force its 
way free, only to be met by pressure from her forearm.  For more times this 
pattern repeated itself, with the difference being that each time she pushed harder, 
he screamed louder and the erotic sensation of power in her body grew.  
"Okay I'm calm." Whimpered Paul.
"Are you sure?"  Isabel coolly asked.
"Yes." Came the weak reply.
"Good." She sternly said.  As she rose from the floor electric feeling from 
the submission of her brother translated into a constant rhythmic gyration in her 
vagina.  As she turned to go toward the chair, she decided that she wanted more.  
She intercepted Paul as he tried to leave, by planting her hand in the middle of his 
chest and forcing him back to the center of the room.  He tried to move around her 
on to her left but she placed her hand in the center of his chest to halt his inertia.   
He then tried the right side, which met same resistance.  And as Isabel removed 
her hand from his chest and stared into her brothers eyes, the look of helpless 
terror that came from his face enhanced the gyrations she felt in her loins into a 
full-blown orgasm.  She breathed heavily through her mouth as she stared into his 
fearful eyes.  He would quickly look at her face, her fists and then settle to the 
floor at his side, to frightened to look at her for long, which only propelled her 
orgasms to new heights.  Seconds passed and became minutes as the pattern 
repeated itself with Paul too terrorized, and Isabel to aroused to leave.  She 
relished the moment that would redefine her family relations.  No male relative 
would ever torture her again, and one of them named Paul would learn how it 
feels to have your self-esteem leeched away as you helplessly stand by and watch.  
Her first punch knocked his head straight back so that he probably had a clear 
view of the ceiling.  Her second one to his jaw with her left hand buckled his 
knees, while the right hand that followed sent him crashing to the floor.  Paul 
cried out as he covered his face and trotted up the stairs to his room, while Isabel 
felt her orgasm reach its climax.  She had Never felt so vibrant, powerful, and 
eager for the future.   Those were the facts of life for Isabel, and she liked it a lot.

End of part 1

Email: kosdumodjin@home.com