"I'll get it!" your brother calls through the house.
Like hell you will! You race out of your room and sprint down the stairs. Alas, one of your sister's panties that had fallen from the laundry hamper on its journey to the washing machine tangles itself around your toes, and snags your other foot, sending you tumbling ass-over-pineapple down the stairs. You land on the bottom step with a thud.
For a moment, you just lie stunned, stars whirling around your head. You hear the front door slam. Then a figure stands over you. Something wet and cold drips onto your nose.
Your eyes focus on Chris. The torn open package is held in one hand, your brush is clutched tightly in the other, dribbling a steady stream of liquid rubber onto your face. You were too late!
"You surprise me, nerd, never thought you'd be into this latex stuff. Did your boyfriend get you into it?" he mocks.
"I'm not gay and that's mine! Give it back."
"I don't think I'll be doing that," he grins. "See, the delivery man explained to me exactly what this thing does. Even gave me a little demonstration. There's no chance in hell you're getting this back. You wouldn't even know what to do with it if you had it."
With an angry yell, you lunge for the brush. He is bigger, faster, and stronger than you, sidestepping away before delivering a blow to your gut. You sink to your knees, winded and sucking down pained gasps of air, the stars glittering on the edge of your vision once again.
Then, while he has you vulnerable, Chris goes to work on you with the brush.
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