HUGE X2: A TWIN STEPBROTHER MENAGE ROMANCE (HUGE Series)
HUGE X2: Chapter 1

When people ask me if I have brothers or sisters I usually tell them no; then I remember Ethan and Nathan and blush furiously at my mistake. See, I was an only child until I turned nineteen, so it’s strange to suddenly replace myself with two huge stepbrothers and a whole new status as a little sister.

Tiny is what they call me. Sometimes Titch. Midget is a favorite too. And Peanut. Whatever name they give me, I hate it. The whole teasing thing is something totally new to me, and at first I really didn’t know how to take it. Girls who grow up with real brothers are toughened up from birth. I got the joy of having to learn as an adult.

After a year, I’ve grown used to the teasing, but not their size. At five foot three, I’m a fraction under the average height for a girl, but Ethan and Nathan are towering hunks of men that loom over me at six foot three and a half. They like to remind me of the half, as though being a foot taller isn’t enough for them to be happy. Sometimes I feel like they are as broad as they are tall, with their ridiculous shoulders and chests with more hills and valleys than a national park. And their thighs. Oh god, their thighs are just so massive and muscular that their pants look like they might split at any moment.

Did I mention how gorgeous they are? When I pass them in the hallway I replace myself leaning against the wall, not only because they seem to take up most of the space wherever they are, but because looking at them is like looking into the beams of a passing car; I’m dazed until they have passed, and even for a few moments afterwards.

All my friends are blatant in their jealousy. “I can’t believe you get to share a house with the Stanmore twins,” they say. They’ve heard the rumors about them too. The whispers about the size of things I should know nothing about, and how well they know how to use them. There are darker tales too, tales that keep me awake at night. Apparently they like to share, and I’m not talking about KFC family buckets here.

I keep quiet when Katelin and Abigail gossip about them. I don’t get involved in the speculation about who they are fucking and what it must be like. Instead, I tell my friends about all the annoying things that come with having them live with me: how their shoes are like a row of canoes by our front door, and how I can never replace any snacks in the cupboards because they eat everything in sight.

As much as I complain about them, I actually secretly like having them around. My house was pretty boring when it was just me and mom. Now I have a stepfather who’s hilarious, and a home that’s always full of people. We have cookouts and movie nights, and everything’s so much more fun than it used to be.

That’s why my secret is kind of terrible. It’s why I haven’t told anyone, not even my best friend Katelin. It’s not that she’s particularly judgmental or prudish or anything. It’s just that when you think you might be in love with your twin stepbrothers, anyone would replace that news shocking. I mean, what am I thinking? For one, they are two years older than me and always have these perfectly amazing looking girls buzzing around them like flies on unmentionable stuff. For two, they seem to think I am just available as a source of amusement. For three, and most importantly, they are twins.

There are two of them.

Did I mention they are twins and not just one person?

I wish they were one person.

Sometimes I fantasize that I creep into their room in the middle of the night, and with my imaginary super strength, pick one of them up and slot him inside the other, like human fleshy Russian dolls. But then I get caught up on which one of them I’d slide into the other, and what that would mean. If I chose to slot Ethan inside Nathan, would that leave me with bubbly Eth or cuddly Nath? I get my fantasies tangled and complicated with feelings because I could never choose between them, not even in my mind.

It’s Saturday night, and I should be out having fun. I want to replace the prospect of going to a bar with my friends appealing. I’ve been single for ten months, basically since I realized that every time I kissed my boyfriend, I was imagining other faces. Katelin has been hassling me about going out more. I think she thinks that I’m depressed. I know she’s worrying about my abnormal dislike of socializing, but I just don’t replace the prospect of going out and talking to other men appealing in any way. I want to kick back in my living room and hope that Ethan and Nathan are tired from working out and come to hang out with me. They always want to watch sports, and I get a lot of criticism for begging to watch movies. When they eventually cave to my womanly tactics – pouting, sulking, and threats to knee them in very tender places – they join me on our ark of a couch for a marathon of 80’s teen movies. I hold the popcorn because they don’t eat carbs after 5 pm, and they provide the hilarious running commentary on fashion and hairstyles. You see, that’s how I know they love The Breakfast Club and St Elmo’s Fire as much as I do. And don’t get me started on Pump up the Volume. Christian Slater rules.

Anyway, I digress. Sort of.

So here I am on the couch alone.

Somehow my plan seems to be failing in two very crucial ways. No Nathan and no Ethan. And starting Pretty in Pink now, when I’m by my lonesome, seems like such a sad, sad waste.

My phone rings and it’s Katelin calling to tell me that I have to meet her at our favorite local bar. From the noise in the background, I can tell it’ll be a good night. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her no, but when she starts listing all the people that are there, including my stepbrothers, that no becomes a rather too enthusiastic YES.