Shooting in Hannah - Version Bravo
Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14
If you've read Shooting (in) Hannah - Version Alpha, the beginning of Version Bravo of this story will seem familiar. It shares some text with the first version. It goes in a different direction, though, telling the story in a different way and actually containing different characters. They have the same names in both books, but their personalities aren't the same at all. They, like all of us out here in reader-land, are different unique individuals, yet share many of the same emotional drivers and behaviors.
They say fact is stranger than fiction, and I'm here to
tell you that's true in spades. I
learned that from Hannah, my sister.
Hannah is older than me by ten months, but a lot of
people who don't know us think we're twins. We both have blonde hair
same slim build our father has. Or had, back when Hannah was born. I
but Hannah got a whole bunch of our mother's genes, developing curves
the place. It's not "cool" to say out loud that your mom's a stone
fox, even when your friends comment on that. You're expected to punch
the shoulder. The fact is, Mom modeled
for several years until she got too big up top.
After she had Hannah I guess her breasts got bigger and then
way. According to her you can't be too
big up top and get modeling jobs. At least other than for porn.
When puberty starts making women out of girls, there is a
tendency to bring with it insecurity about how appealing they are to
opposite sex. According to top models,
the most beautiful women feel this insecurity. The odd part is that it
long before they're actually looking for a guy to pair up with for
doesn't matter what they look like, they think they don't look good
be interesting to the opposite gender. The big advertising firms are
of this and play on it, trying to sell women things that will "fix"
them. My mom got over that, thanks to my
dad. He fell in love with who she was
inside, not the hot swimsuit model he got to go out with him a couple
times. And she fell in love with a man
who loved her that way.
Of course that's ancient history. Well,
except for the fact that Mom still
looks really good ... not that I'd admit that to anybody.
And she's pretty comfortable with how she
looks, now. Her daughter, however, is
not. It's been that way for the entire
six years since I was ten. Personally, I think it started when she had
first period, but since we don't talk about that kind of thing in our
it's just a theory.
Anyway, whether it was because she was insecure or for other
reasons, Hannah did all the things sisters do to their brothers as they
grow up. Like making my life miserable.
She ratted me out whenever she knew I did
something against the rules. She told
one of my girlfriends I was cheating on her and another one that I had
STD. That, of course, was
ridiculous. She knew there was no way in
the world I was sexually active. She was just trying to mess with what
for my love life.
Not that that made any difference. I've
never gotten a girl to let me do more
than kiss her and maybe cop a feel of a boob, now and then.
Truthfully, my girlfriends all know she's
full of shit. I'm a nice guy.
It's just how I was raised. When I
started dating, my dad sat me down and
gave me this long lecture about how women are precious and should be
with nothing but respect. I suggested he
needed to give the same speech to Hannah, except about how boys should
respected, too, and he just laughed.
Hannah, of course, feels like since she's older she
should get to boss me around. It doesn't help that - even though we
the same age at that time of year - because Hannah was just enough
me, she got to start school a year before I did. So now she'll be a
school starts again and I'll just be a lowly junior.
I get better grades, but that doesn't mean
diddly to anybody.
So now you can understand why, one morning, when Hannah
came into my room (without knocking) and said, "Hey little brother, I
you to do something for me," I was less than enthusiastic about doing
even though I didn't know yet what it was.
"No," I said.
I was trying the direct approach.
"Do it and I won't tell Mom and Dad you lied to them
about going to Kevin's and went to the mall instead," she said, sweetly.
Crap! How the heck
did she find out about that? One of her
menagerie of friends probably saw me and reported to her on my
movements. It wouldn't surprise me if she
had a whole
spy network out there with orders to keep a list of everything they
ever saw me
do. In any case, I knew better than to
deny it. She'd have rock-solid evidence.
"Mom and dad aren't here today," I pointed out.
They were gone to a wedding, one between people they'd known in college
didn't. That was good because I hated going to weddings.
"Do it and I won't tell them about the mall when
they get home," she said, patiently.
"Why didn't you tell them already?" I asked,
"A girl needs leverage sometimes," she said,
I knew I was screwed.
I actually thought that: "I'm screwed." Which,
by the way, is kind of ironic, as
you'll see later.
"What is it?" I groaned.
She held out her smart phone. I
didn't have one, yet. You have to be a
senior in our family before
you get a smart phone. She had argued that as soon as she graduated
junior year, that made her a senior, and Mom and Dad went for it.
I had argued that, by that argument I was a junior and, since they did driver's ed
in your junior year, Dad should take me out and let me have some
driving the car ...
but nobody went for that. She always gets her way.
"I need you to take some pictures of me.
I want to send them to Steve."
Steve was her boyfriend.
He's a jerk. He's a bully, and he
thinks he's tough. But he's just a jerk.
He doesn't mess with me because he's into Hannah. And
maybe because I have two inches and
thirty pounds on him. I'm tall, like
"Go in the bathroom and take a selfie, like
thousands of other stupid girls do," I said. I
waited for her to get mad at me calling her
But she didn't.
"I am not stupid," she said. "I want
something nice, sexy, and I don't want it to look like I'm hiding in
bathroom to do it."
"Sexy," I said, picking one word out of her
whole little speech to highlight.
"Dad would love to hear you say that."
I still expected her to get mad. I
was hoping she'd stomp off and leave me
alone. But again, she didn't.
She sat down on the edge of the bed instead.
"Come on, Bobby. Please. Steve's
been looking at other girls while
he's out with me. He even said that Evelyn Morris was looking pretty
we saw her at the movies. I'm worried. I don't even think I know how to
Wow. I was shocked. It wasn't so much what she'd said,
but that she'd said it at all. She was
actually trying to explain herself to me - me, the brother she wouldn't normally give the time of
to! Still, doing just about anything for her could
turn out badly, especially if her expectations were not realized.
I tried a different approach.
"I think you're worrying for nothing. You're plenty
sexy," I said.
"Thank you," she said, as if I'd simply
complimented her choice of fingernail polish. "But you're my brother.
have to say things like that. I'm still worried I might be losing him."
"Who are you?" I asked, amazement
filling my voice.
"I'm your sister, you dork," she said.
"No you're not," I replied. "My sister
would never talk to me like this."
"Who else am I supposed to talk to?" she
groaned. "I can't just go up to Mom and tell her I don't feel sexy and
casually ask her how I can turn that around. And that's definitely not
something you bring up with your friends, unless you want to be the
joke of the
Her mention of the menagerie caused a thought to flicker
through my mind that I was being set up for something.
This was some kind of prank. But
the look on her face was really strange,
not like she expected somebody to rush into the room and start yelling
how I thought my sister was sexy or something.
"Does that really bother you?" I asked.
She slumped. She
was either the best actress I'd ever seen, or really worked up about
"Sometimes," she sighed. "I know Mom says
I shouldn't worry about how I look, but sometimes I can't help but
it. I see all my friends or some girl like Evelyn Morris and I feel
like I'm not as pretty as them. I worry Steve will dump me for a sexier girl."
"Okay," I said.
"That's just ridiculous. And
I'm not saying that because I have to.
Being your brother has nothing to do with it. I might be related
but I'm not blind. You're twice as good
looking as Evelyn Morris. Second, Steve's a jerk and you could do way better
than him. He wouldn't be dumping you,
he'd be setting you free."
"I don't want to be free," she said.
"I'm a senior, and senior girls who don't have a boyfriend are
"That's ridiculous, too. Come
on, Hannah. I know you have a brain. Use
it. Is Tanya Clarke a loser?"
Tanya was a cheerleader and very
popular. She not only didn't have a
boyfriend, she didn't even date. She
told everybody she was waiting until she got to college where there
some men who don't think it's funny to fart in public. She actually said that! She did go out in groups, but never hung with
"She's the idiot, not me," said Hannah.
"She could have guys fighting over her if she wanted to."
"Why is it so important for guys to fight over
you?" I asked.
"Because then you know you're cute," she said.
I had an epiphany.
There were pictures of Mom on the walls in Dad's library.
It was just a bedroom that he was using as a
home office, but he called it his library. These were pictures from her
modeling days and they were of her in all kinds of situations.
Like in one she was standing on the hood of a
race car with a trophy in her hands. She
was wearing a bikini in that one. There
were half a dozen of her on a runway, modeling clothes.
I remember there being a bunch of them of her
in her underwear, too, when I was younger, but they disappeared after
caught me staring at one of them one time.
I was thirteen at the time.
I'd seen Hannah staring at those pictures too, and each
time she did that she said, "Mom's so pretty!"
"Hannah," I said. "Mom was a model. She
had makeup people and wardrobe people and they made her look like she
she's just as pretty now as she was then.
You are too. You're worrying about stupid stuff. Don't waste
time. If Steve doesn't appreciate you
then you'd be better off without him."
What she wasn't telling me was that Steve had been
putting pressure on her to loosen up and "do things".
What he meant was get naked in the back seat
of his car and spread her legs. He had
hinted that if she didn't, another girl would.
He was full of himself like that.
What he was full of in reality was shit.
"Bobby, will you do this for me or not?" she
It was obvious she wasn't going to give up.
I guess I caved.
"Okay. If you want sexy pictures, I'm your
man," I said. "I've stared at thousands of them."
That last part slipped out.
"I know you have, you pervert," she said.
She said it gently, though.
"One should not call another a pervert when one
wishes for the other to take slutty pictures of her," I said.
"I don't want slutty. I want sexy," she
said. She held out the phone. "And
I like Steve, so stop saying that about him."
I thought about it.
"Okay," I said. "I'll do it ... but not
"What do you mean?"
"I'll take them, but they're for you, so you can see
how good you look. If you decide to let
that twerp look at them that's your business, but I'm taking them for you."
She tilted her head and examined me.
"I know I've treated you like I didn't like you, but
that's not true."
"Of course it's true. You did treat me like
you didn't like me," I said.
"What I meant is I always knew you were a good
"Then why try to make girls think I'm a low-life?"
"It's what sisters are supposed to do," she
said, shrugging her shoulders.
"And where did you get this nugget of wisdom?"
"Oh, around, I guess," she said. "I'm
sorry. I won't treat you like that
"Come on," I said, sitting up. "Who are
you really? What planet do you
come from? Why did you choose my
sister's body to take over?"
"Ha - ha," she said. "Please?"
"If this is some kind of joke ..." I warned.
"It isn't. I promise."
Which is how we ended up in the back yard by a line of
Forsythia bushes along the fence. They'd
been bright yellow, but the blossoms were gone now and they were a deep
shade. Hannah stood in front of them and struck a pose.
She looked good. That was all there was to
it. I already knew that, of course.
She'd been cute as we were growing up.
All my aunts had taken pains to point that
out. Not that I had thought about that then, but I did notice when the
her shirts wasn't flat anymore, and her butt got bigger. I didn't think
interest in her boobs and butt was a bad thing. I noticed every girl's breasts, and I liked a butt that had filled out and got round.
She hadn't cut her hair since I could remember and today
it was in a ponytail that went clear down to the small of her back.
Her hair is that golden blond that has
highlights of red and brown in it. It
was late May. School had only been out a week and it was still chilly
mornings. I was wearing a pair of my summer shorts, but had put on a
hoody. She had on faded and torn jeans
with a pink T shirt that had something on the back, but was plain in
front. She'd gotten it when she walked
five miles to make money for breast cancer research.
I thought that was appropriate since she had
a rack to be proud of, but of course I didn't say that.
She stood there, looking good, and I took a picture.
I peered at it on her phone. She looked
awkward standing like that. I looked
around and saw the Adirondack chairs by the birdbath that Mom and Dad
sometimes, to read.
"Over there," I said. "Sit on the arm of
one of the chairs."
"Why?" asked my sister.
"Just do it."
"Don't be so bossy."
She went, though, and perched on the chair.
This looked much better, more natural. I
took a shot.
"You definitely look good," I said.
"Really? But do I look sexy?" she asked.
"How about this?"
She tugged the hem of her T shirt upwards, exposing her
flat abs and belly button, which had something shiny in it.
"I didn't know your belly button was pierced,"
"Neither does Mom," she said. "Cindy
did it at a sleepover. You can't
say anything. If they knew they'd freak out."
"They," of course, were our parents.
"It looks ... sexy," I said, taking a picture.
"Does it? You think Steve will like it?"
"That jerk will salivate over it." I took a
couple more. "Can I ask you a question?"
"How much have you done with him?"
"Bobby!" she said. "That's
private." She pulled the shirt
higher. Suddenly I could see the naked swells of the bottom of her
Obviously she wasn't wearing a bra under that shirt. She pulled a
higher. I couldn't see her areolas, but it was close and my imagination
going. "How about this?"
I didn't go on. I couldn't very
well tell her I wished she would pull a lot higher. A lot. I took a
felt something happening in my pants, and got nervous.
What was happening?
"I think we're done," I said. "If
you get any sexier it's going to get
"Let me see," she said, excitedly. She
let the shirt fall and came over to
me. She peered into the camera and
flipped through the pics.
"Wow," she said. She turned to me and hugged
me, holding me tightly. "Thank you so much!"
Then she stepped back and looked down. I knew I was busted because I'd felt my erection press against her.
"Do you have a boner?" she asked, her
"No," I said. What else could I say? When she
hugged me and I felt it push against her, there was nothing I could do
because it happened too fast.
"You do!" she said, looking at the bulge
in the front of my loose, cotton shorts. "You got a boner because of me?"
My doubts were back.
Here was a perfect chance for her friends to jump out of the
cameras in hands, having taken video of me getting a stiffy for my own
sister. Such videos would be gleefully
posted on social media and my life would be over. Anger flashed and I
reacted to what I assumed was really going on.
"Fuck you," I snapped. It just
"Well, I can't very well do that. You're
my brother, Bobby."
Now I have to say, here, that I was suddenly confused.
I'd just said something to my sister that
would normally have made her go ballistic. Not only that, in the past,
have stomped off to call either Mom or Dad and reported my ...
a minimum I just assumed she'd be disgusted and shriek about that.
But she hadn't done that. She'd responded in a way so
differently than I'd expected that I was at a loss.
She was frowning, but that's all she
was doing. I didn't know what to do, so
I just tried to get it over with.
"That's not what I meant," I said. "I'm
sorry. You can tell your friends to come out now."
"Friends?" She sounded confused. "What
"The ones who will post videos of me getting a boner
for my sister," I snarled.
"There are no friends, Bobby. It's
I looked around, suddenly feeling foolish.
"Sorry. I'm a little freaked out right now."
"Because of the boner?"
"Would you please stop talking about
that?" I groaned.
"But you do have a boner," she said, looking
down at the front of my pants again. "I felt it when I hugged you, and
can see it now, making a big dent in your shorts."
If that wasn't bad enough, she pointed one manicured
finger at it.
Being freaked out makes you defensive. It
can also make you say things you might
"Yeah, I bet you have a lot of experience
feeling boners against you," I growled.
"No I don't," she said. "Not really."
"What about Steve and his ginormous dick?" I
She stepped back.
"Bobby. I was
just teasing you. I haven't done anything with Steve.
I haven't done anything with anybody."
"So you're telling me you're a virgin," I said,
my voice tight.
"Well ... sort of," she said.
"You can't be sort of a virgin," I said.
"You either are or you aren't. I
Hannah stepped back another step and folded her arms
under her braless breasts.
"I think we're getting off track. All
I wanted you to do was take some pictures
of me. I teased you and I'm sorry for
that. Don't be mad."
"I don't think we're off track at all," I said,
heavily. "I am your brother
and I'm supposed to look out for you. Of
course I care what guys try to get away with when you're alone with
idea that you're not a virgin makes me crazy!"
Hannah stared at me.
Once again, she didn't react like the sister I'd grown up with.
"Bobby, there are lots of ways a girl can
lose her cherry that don't involve a boy at all."
I blinked, obviously startled by what she'd said.
I felt like she could almost see the gears
turning in my head.
"Oh," I said, softly. All the
bluster and anger in me faded away.
"I didn't think of that."
"That's hard to believe," she said. Her face
got calm. "Don't guys do that ten times a day?"
"Not ten," I said, my voice distracted.
I blinked again and my face showed surprise
at what had slipped out of my mouth.
Her voice teased again. "How many, then? Fifteen? Twenty?" She grinned.
"I'm not telling my sister how often I ... do
that," I said, my voice tight.
"We weren't talking about you," she said,
sweetly. "I just meant guys in
"I don't know how often other guys jerk off," I
snapped. "It's not like we talk
about it at lunch."
"Oh," she said, lightly, putting one finger up
to the corner of her mouth. "Us girls talk about it all the time.
You know, sharing tips and ideas and all that."
The shock on my face was genuine and she laughed.
"I'm kidding," she said. "You're so easy
to get to. Besides. I actually lost
my cherry to tampons ... not what you were thinking about."
"I'm going to go lie down for a while," I said,
my voice tight again.
"Come on, Bobby," she wheedled. "We
were having fun."
"You were having fun," I said. "It
wasn't fun for me."
"I know, but that's just because I was teasing
you. I said I'm sorry about that. I
won't do that anymore. I promise. Come on.
Just take a few more?"
"Which brings us back to you wanting to show them to
Steve, the douchebag, who doesn't deserve to touch your hand, much less
other part of you," I growled.
"Bobby," she said softly. "A girl has to
have a boyfriend. If she doesn't, people
think she's a loser."
"Then find a guy who's worth you," I said.
"Like I said, you could have any guy you wanted."
"No I can't," she said. "Guys aren't
crawling all over me, Bobby. I admit
Steve's got a lot of flaws, but he's all I have right now."
"I don't get that," I said. "I mean you're
funny and smart and gorgeous. I know
guys see that because they talk to me about you all the time."
talk about me?" Her eyes were
wide. Her whole countenance was one of
"Yes they do," I said. "Guys
mess with me frequently about how
good you look."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You know," I said. "They come
up to me and say things like,
'Hey Bob, seen your sister naked lately?
What's it like when a babe like her comes out of the shower
naked? Does she shake her titties at you?'
Then they laugh and poke me and that kind of
"You don't see me naked," said Hannah.
"I know that," I snapped. "But
they think about it like what they
wish it would be like if they were your brother."
I changed my voice to a high pitch, my tone
sarcastic. "Does she sleep in the buff, Bob? Do
you help her shave her pussy, Bob? I bet
she has a snapping pussy. Have you
tried it yet? Does she know the best bone is the one you get at home?"
Hannah was shocked. I could see it on her face.
"They do not!" she gasped. I
didn't say anything and she stared at my
face. "Really? They say shit like
"All the time," I sighed. "It makes me want
to kick that shit out of them. It also
lets me know what every guy who you might date thinks about doing with
you. It's driving me crazy.
And now you want me to take sexy pictures of
you so you can give them to guys like that!"
"I'm sorry, Bobby.
I didn't know."
"Well, now you do," I said.
She stood there, obviously just thinking about all this.
"You're right. It would be stupid to give pictures
like this to somebody like that."
"They'd post them online and then they'd be out
there forever," I said.
"Okay. I won't give them to anybody," she said,
softly. "They'll just be between
you and me, okay?"
I blinked a few times while I thought about that.
"That's kind of weird ... don't you think?"
"Why? Someday maybe I'll meet a good guy, like you,
and I'll want to be sexy for him. I
still want to learn how to be sexy, even if it isn't for Steve. So who
I practice on?"
"Just because you take a picture doesn't mean you
can't delete it later," I said.
"You don't want them?" Her voice sounded
strange, maybe a little hurt. I think it was part of that insecurity I
mentioned, where a girl is worried about what some guy thinks about
this case, me wanting sexy pictures of her was the salve to her wounded
self-image. A self-inflicted wound is
still a wound.
I paused. The fact
was that I did want them. But could I admit that to her? For sure I
couldn't admit what I was suddenly feeling about my big sister. My body had already spoken up, but I couldn't voice that kind of interest.
Sure, I'd noticed she was a babe, but never
once had I thought about doing what I suddenly thought about doing
looking at that picture where her boobs were almost exposed.
How do you admit to your sister that you
might jerk off while looking at her picture?
"It's okay," she said, turning to leave.
"I know I can't compete with the really beautiful girls."
"Don't be stupid." It was out
of my mouth before I could think
about it. She turned back.
"Why is that stupid? It's true."
"I already told you you're gorgeous," I
"That's sweet, but you don't really believe that.
You don't want any pictures of me because I'm
not really sexy."
As I indicated, there was a lot going on in my brain at
that moment and I didn't have time to think about this.
If I had, I might have pointed out that it
was a little odd for a sister to want her brother to think she was sexy.
If I'd been older and wiser I might have
realized this was just about battling her insecurity. Instead, I just
in the moment.
"I didn't say I don't want them," I said.
I felt nervous.
"So you do?"
"Maybe I do," I said, leaving it at that.
"Okay!" she said, all bubbly again. "So we could take some more?"
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