The perfect shape

It was a fine day, still summer, not too hot and no rain. I'd managed to grab my designer sunglasses before Robert had dragged me off to the cat hunt, and I was glad that I'd spent some time that morning on my outfit. How things had changed. So I was rather pleased with the way I looked, and holding my brother's hand in mine, it was just a lovely experience. Because I felt loved, and pretty, and desired. Didn't every woman want just that?

We didn't speak much for the first couple of minutes. I was pondering where the events of the past eight days would eventually take us. Where would we be in a month's time, or a year, or ten years from now? Our parents would figure things out sooner or later, and it would be awkward at best when we had to explain our developed relationship. And like any other romantic relationship, there was always the risk that it would end someday. We were in love now, but that wouldn't last forever. Would our love be strong enough to survive all the challenges that would be coming our way?

Despite the warm day, I shivered. Robert noticed, released my hand and put his arm around my shoulder. It was a loving gesture, and it made me feel better. I leaned my head into his shoulder, put one arm around his waist, and placed the other hand on his chest.

'Tell me, little brother,' I said, 'will we always be together?'

He waited a few seconds before replying. 'I don't have a crystal ball, sis, but I think so. We could never be apart even if we tried. He placed his free hand on top of my hand that was on his chest.

'What are we going to tell Mum and Dad?'

'The truth, I suppose,' he said. 'We shouldn't be hiding anymore, remember? But maybe we should wait a bit before telling them. Even for ourselves, for us to settle down a bit.'

'You mean, when we stop doing it two or three times a day, every day?', I asked.

'Well no, not that long,' he replied.

I had to laugh at that, and he laughed with me. I kissed him on the cheek, just as a sign of affection. Yeah, we were going to be OK.

Meanwhile, we had arrived at the rescue centre. Cat Central. It was a slightly run-down building, and judging from the smell there were a lot of animals inside. The incessant barking and yapping was another hint. Robert opened the door for me –a gesture that almost, but not quite any longer, surprised me– and we went inside.

There was a counter stacked with flyers and collection boxes, behind which sat a woman of indeterminate age, which is usually not a good sign for a woman. With better clothing, just the right amount of make-up, soft lighting and viewed from a carefully chosen angle, she would still have been unattractive. She glared at us with what I figured must be a look of suspicion.

'How may I help you?' she asked.

'We want a cat,' said Robert. He might as well have said: 'We're Greeks and we bring you this fine wooden horse.'

I quickly interrupted, before Robert could do further damage. 'We recently moved in together and we would like to enrich our domestic life by adopting a pet into our family. After careful consideration, we agreed that it would be best to adopt a cat that is looking for a loving family.' I gave her what I hoped was a radiant smile.

The woman didn't seem convinced. 'Adopting a pet is a grave responsibility. You said that you discussed this thoroughly?'

'Yeah,' said Robert, 'all of two min... ouch!'

'...weeks,' I finished his sentence. 'Careful where you put your feet, sweetheart. You might hurt yourself.'

Robert looked at me and rubbed his leg where I'd kicked him, but said nothing.

The woman seemed mollified and gestured for us to follow her. We went through a door, had to step into an antiseptic shoe bath, and filed through another door.

We were in a room with cages on opposite walls. And in the cages were cats. A lot of cats. There were big cats and small cats, old cats and kittens, cats in every imaginable pattern and colour. Some of them meowed, but compared to the cacophony of the dogs it felt almost like a library.

'Oh, these kittens are cute!' cried Robert. I had to admit, they were. A big head and big eyes, and a little bit clumsy. They were playing with their own tails, or each other's tails, or some random object.

'Yes,' said the woman, ' they are very cute, but I can't give you a kitten.'

'Oh? Why is that?' asked Robert.

'Because all of our cats are neutered when they are adopted. And you can't neuter a cat until it's about six months old, depending on whether it's a male or a female.'

'Oh.' To me, Robert looked disappointed.

'But there are plenty of beautiful adult cats, right?' I pointed out.

'Of course there are,' said the woman. 'People always want a kitten, but these are all lovely adult cats that need a loving family.'

Robert and I started inspecting the adult cats. 'This one looks sweet,' I said, pointing at a large black cat.

'Oh, that one is a bit of a troublemaker I'm afraid,' said the woman. 'I don't think it would be suitable for you.'

'And how about this ginger one?' asked Robert.

'That one can't stay on its own, even for five minutes. I suppose you're not home all the time, are you?'

'Maybe this grey tabby then?', I asked.

'We're still treating it for worms. No way I could have you adopt it.'

Robert pointed out a black-and-white cat. 'How about this one then?'

'Hasn't been neutered yet.'

It looked as if adopting a cat was no mean feat. Every cat we pointed out had some or other issue that prevented it from being adopted. I started to suspect that the woman wasn't actually at all keen at having any of her cats adopted.

'This white one?'

'Deaf.'

'How about this tortoiseshell?'

'Mentally disturbed.'

'Maybe this really big one then?'

'Mauled a German shepherd. Poor thing is afraid of its own shadow nowadays.'

Robert quickly retracted the finger with which he had been pointing at the large cat, and which the cat had been regarding with outright hostility.

'It was provoked,' the lady clarified.

Finally, we reached the last cages. There were two cats together in one of them.

'I like this ginger tabby,' said Robert.

'I prefer the grey one actually,' I said.

'Oh no, they are inseparable,' said the woman. 'They're siblings, they grew up together and would be very sad if they were forced apart.'

'So why don't we adopt both of them?' asked Robert.

'What?' I said.

'It makes sense,' said Robert. Whenever my brother said that something made sense, that usually meant bad news.

'My dear bro... I mean boyfriend,' I said, 'we came for one cat, not two.'

'I suppose it does make sense, though,' said the woman. 'They would still be together, and have someone to talk to when both of you are out.'

Robert and I shared a glance, but decided that this was perhaps not the best time to comment. Still, I wasn't going to give in without a fight.

'But our little flat isn't big enough for two cats,' I said. 'Don't they need their own territory?'

'Funny you should say that,' said the woman. 'That would be the case if they weren't siblings that grew up together, or if they had the same gender. But they're brother and sister, and with a male and a female it works a bit differently. No, you should do just fine with the pair of them.'

I felt like Napoleon overlooking the battlefield at Waterloo. I had tried, and failed miserably. I nodded at Robert, giving him a 'do whatever the hell you like, I don't give a shit' look. Not that he recognised it anyway.

'Did you bring any cat carriers?' asked the woman.

No, we hadn't thought of that little detail. The woman gave us directions to a nearby pet shop.

Once there, I approached the shop assistant. 'We're looking for a cat carrier,' I said.

'Ah, of course,' the assistant said. 'We have many kinds. Are you looking for anything in particular?'

'Um... the kind that you transport a cat with?' I ventured.

The assistant gave a condescending little laugh that I immediately resented. He looked like he wanted to put an arm around my shoulder, then thought better of it when he saw my expression. 'Well, yes, of course, that's why most people buy a cat carrier for, to transport a cat. But allow me to show you some of our models.

'This one comes with louvres that can shut out direct sunlight. This one has extra soft padding for the comfort of your furry friend. And this one, ah, this is our top model. It comes with a GPS tracker, replaceable padding in a range of attractive colours, and is equipped with four whisper-quiet fans that can be connected to the power socket of your car. Considering its range of options, the price is no more than reasonable.'

'We'll take the cheapest type. Two, please.'

The shop assistant looked somewhat miffed and handed over the carriers with ill grace.

Back at the rescue centre, the woman took us back to the cats.

'So you're a young couple in love then?' she asked. 'How long have you been together?'

Robert wisely moved out of kicking range.

'Oh, it feels like forever,' said. That was actually true. 'I can't even remember when we became lovers.' That was an outright lie, but I couldn't very well tell her that we were siblings.

'So cute,' said the woman. Meanwhile, we had arrived at the cage with the ginger and grey tabbies. The woman opened the door and placed one cat in each of the carriers.

'We request a donation, of course,' she said as we walked back to the counter.

'Oh, a donation. So it's voluntary then?' asked Robert.

'No,' said the woman. That'll be 80, 40 per cat.

It was a sizeable chunk out of our budget, so we wouldn't be able to go on a date for some time. Ah well, we'd have to find ways to amuse ourselves at home then.

So we had gone for a cat, and went home with two. How the hell had I ever let myself be talked into this? They were cute, though. Brother and sister. And thank goodness, neutered.

On the way home, we dropped by the pet shop again, and left with two litter trays, several bowls, cat food, cat litter, various toys, and one of these poles that they can scratch on. This was, of course, before we knew that cats much prefer furniture to scratch on, especially if the piece of furniture is of high monetary or sentimental value. It was quite a load, but I had decided that Robert, as the man, should carry all the supplies and one cat, so it wasn't so bad. At least, not for me. Meanwhile, I took the other cat and performed important duties such as pressing the buttons on pedestrian lights.

I'd also insisted that we get two collars that simply said 'cat'.

'Why the collars?' Robert had asked. 'They don't really look like dogs, do they?'

He could be so exasperating at times. 'Because it's cute, you daft boy. That's why.'

'Oh, I see,' he'd replied. He probably thought it was girl stuff, and he was probably right.

When we got home, we opened the cat carriers and sat down. After a while, the cats sneaked out and took up strategic positions, as cats are wont to do in an unknown environment. It was true: they weren't unlike Robert and I. Whenever Robert and I found ourselves in new or otherwise unfamiliar circumstances, we would seek safety, by staying close to one another.

So we had the cats, and all the supplies, but there was one important item left.

'What shall we call them?' I asked Robert.

He thought for a few moments. 'Well,' he said, 'they're brother and sister. Maybe we could name them after a famous brother and sister from history, or from literature.'

That idea seemed to make sense. But that was easier said than done. Try as I might, I couldn't come up with even a single pair of names. We sat in silence for a while, thinking of what to call them.

'How about Cersei and Jaime?' asked Robert.

I looked at him incredulously. 'Are you taking the piss? As in, Cersei and Jaime Lannister?'

'Yes, those. They're twins.'

'They also happen to shag one another,' I pointed out. 'Crap, I even look like a bit like Cersei.'

'Really?' said Robert. 'I've always thought of you like a fairer version of Michelle Phillips.'

That caught me off-guard. Michelle Phillips had been a bit of a hussy in her time, but she was also very pretty. I smiled nervously, and my hands automatically went to my hair, rearranging a few strands that weren't even out of place.

'You think I am that pretty?' I asked.

'Pretty? No, not "pretty". Stunningly beautiful, more like.'

He was dead serious. It took me a few seconds to recover from that.

'Thanks for the compliment. But we're getting distracted. What I mean is that this too obvious. We might as well hang a sign around our necks saying "I fuck my sibling and I like it."'

'Why would we want to do such a thing?' asked Robert, utterly confused. OK Iris, go easy on the metaphors.

'I don't! My point is that if we have a pair of cats named after a twin couple that do nookie, we attract undue attention to ourselves.'

'And who would know about their names?' he asked.

'Well, anybody who would come to visit I suppose.' I had a nagging feeling that this discussion was not going to go in my favour.

'I think,' said Robert, 'that anybody who comes to visit has a pretty good idea of what's going on. The shared bedroom is a bit of a giveaway, for example.'

Defeated by logic once again, I threw my hands in the air. 'Sod it. Cersei and Jaime it is then.'

It took the cats about a week to settle in. And I had to admit, they made a difference. If I came home before Robert did, Cersei and Jaime would be waiting for me, vying for attention, and of course, food. It made the flat a proper home.

They had also quickly established that the nicest, softest and warmest place in the flat was our bed. So whenever I reached out to touch Robert, more often than not there would be something furry in the way.

If we were snuggled up on the soda watching TV, the cats would snuggle up with us. If we were working on our computers, there would inevitably be a cat in front of the keyboard, or even better, on top of the keyboard.

It was like that when I came home one day. Robert was behind his computer, with Jaime taking the space is front of the keyboard, and Cersei lying on his lap. He was watching a music video, of some big-breasted bimbo running around a jungle in a skimpy outfit. I felt a pang of jealousy. Why was he looking at this slut, when he could be looking at me?

'Huh,' I said, 'I bet that you prefer her boobs to mine.'

I immediately realised my mistake, but it was already too late. My idiot brother was going to give me an honest answer, and not the answer that I wanted to hear: that I was the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world. I tried to prepare myself for the rejection, but knew that I wouldn't manage. I would have to bite the bullet, have him say what he had to say, excuse myself, run to the bedroom, cry, and pretend that nothing had happened.

He gave me a look that I couldn't quite read, which probably meant he was confused.

'Whose, hers?' he asked.

Despite myself, I dug my hole even deeper. 'Yes, hers. Don't all men like big boobs?'

He looked at Sluttypants on the screen again, and back at me. Under his piercing gaze, I suddenly felt naked, and not in a good way.

'Her boobs? She's got nice boobs, but she's not perfect.'

That wasn't quite the answer that I had expected. 'What do you mean, not perfect?'

'Well, she's nothing like you,' he said. 'Your body is absolutely perfect. It has the exact right dimensions. You're the walking definition of feminine beauty. Everything is in the right proportion, down to the last millimetre.'

Wait, what? Did he just say that?

'What, did you measure me or something?' I asked, not knowing what else to say.

'I don't have to,' he replied. 'I just know. Your body is what a circle is in mathematics. It's the perfect shape. There's nothing that could possibly be improved. The size of your breasts, the roundness of your hips, the length of your legs, the placement and size of your eyes, your nose, your ears, your mouth, your...'

I stopped him by gently placing my hand on his lips. I was feeling embarrassed and extremely flattered at the same time.

'Robert,' I said, 'my dear brother. I absolutely and unconditionally love you, no matter what, come what may, forever and ever. You have no idea how good and desired you make me feel. I know you're just saying that to make me feel better, or even to talk me into bed...'

'Not true!' he cried. 'I'm serious!'

I looked at his face, and for once I recognised the expression on it.

'You are serious, aren't you?' I asked.

'Yes! Why wouldn't I be?'

I could think of a lot of reasons. Men are men, and I'm a woman, and Asperger or not, I suffer from the same uncertainties and anxieties that most, if not all women suffer from, especially when it comes to looks.

I couldn't see it in myself. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I saw things that I didn't like. Be it the shape or colour of my eyes, or how my hair looked, or whether my breasts were prominent enough, or if I were too fat.

But Robert, with his analytical mind, had just declared me perfect. It couldn't be true, though. Nobody's perfect. Well, that's not true either. I think Robert is perfect. He is kind, sincere, selfless, and I just adore everything about him.

Could it really be? Could I be more than just about average?

I wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. So I just looked at him, and held out my hands. He gently put the cat on the floor, stood up, and embraced me. We didn't speak, and just held our perfect bodies together.

I loved him with all my heart, and I knew that it was entirely reciprocated. Society and it norms could go and stuff it up their arses. That he was my brother, and that people thought that what he had was inappropriate: I really couldn't care less. For the first time in my life, I was really happy. Perfectly happy, to be precise.

It happened one Sunday morning, several weeks later, that I was woken up by the most wonderful sensation. Robert and I had a marathon session the evening before. My brother had pumped me full of his semen not once but twice, and I had lost count how many times his fingers and the vibrator had brought to the edge and right over it, crashing into the abyss of bliss. It must have been at least... well, several times anyway. More than two and less than ten, so to say.

Now, the next morning, I felt him sucking on my nipple. No squeezing or fondling, just gentle licks and suckling. I was amazed that he had such stamina, because he had been utterly exhausted, and fallen asleep almost immediately after our shower together. But hey, it felt great and I wasn't complaining.

In fact, I was getting quite aroused by it, and slipped my hand between my legs. 'Oh Robert,' I murmured, 'where do you get the energy from?' My eyes were still closed, allowing me to focus on the sensation.

My hand found my clit, and rubbing it made everything feel even better. The suckling, my finger on my clit, the spooning... it made for a fantastic combination. As the minutes passed, I got worked up more and more. I found just the right spot on my clit, and the gentle rubbing lifted me higher and higher, building towards what promised to be a most gratifying experience.

But Robert should finish me off, I didn't want to do it myself. The loss of control, with the only person that I could allow myself to yield control to, meant for me an all-encompassing experience, one of love, trust, companionship, tenderness, security, and physical pleasure. To cut a long story short, I wanted him inside me again.

Slowly, however, I started to realise that something was off. If Robert was spooning me, he couldn't possibly be sucking on my boob at the same time. And a ménage à trois I would have surely remembered. So who was sucking on my tit?