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Enter the Sandboy	By : GeorgeGlass Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 53409 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House or its characters. I made no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2: Palace Intrigue
Lincoln found it difficult to get through a full day of camp when he was so preoccupied with what had happened the night before. Standing out in right field and wearing a cheap faux-leather softball mitt, Lincoln fought to focus on the game—or at least on not taking a fly ball to the head—as his mind grappled with a tumult of thoughts and feelings.
The thoughts dealt chiefly with the questions of what exactly had happened, and how. He’d awakened to find himself rubbing against Lana in a decidedly non-brotherly fashion. And before that, he’d been dreaming of doing something similar with Girl Jordan—a girl he hadn’t even realized he was attracted to until now. He found himself avoiding looking directly at her when it was her turn at bat. Thankfully, she hit a grounder.
Lincoln was certain that he must have been the one to initiate…the thing he’d done with Lana. No, the thing he’d done to Lana. Even if she had participated, she couldn’t have been the instigator. She was only six; unlike the pubescent Lincoln, she couldn’t possibly be having those kinds of feelings yet. Lana probably had been just going along with what Lincoln was doing, having no sense of what urges were driving him to do it.
Clearly, Lincoln had been, if not sleepwalking, then sleep-something. That’s how things had gotten started. Come to think of it, Lana probably had been asleep, too. For the whole thing, even. Clearly, she didn’t remember any of it, or else she did but thought it was just a dream. That would explain why she’d been so chipper in the morning instead of looking at Lincoln like the creep he apparently was.
But that was merely the best-case scenario. What if Lana hadn’t been asleep? What if she remembered everything? Oh, God, what if she told one of their sisters, and it got back to Mom and Dad? What if they confronted him about it? What would he even say?
“Lincoln?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” the boy cried.
“Uh, do what on purpose?” asked Liam, who had been playing center field. “I just came to tell ya it’s our turn at bat, since it don’t look like ya noticed.”
Lincoln looked and saw the rest of his team jogging toward home plate as the opposing team took the field.
“Oh, right,” Lincoln said with a nervous chuckle, then headed for home plate himself.
***
Having slept poorly the night before, Lincoln was dead to the world when, in the dark of night, he was jolted awake by a loud, hissing whisper from his doorway.
“Lincoln! I had a bad dream!”
Lincoln dimly recognized the voice as Lola’s. “C…c’monin,” he slurred.
He heard the door slam shut, then felt Lola hop onto his bed. She didn’t even wait for him to open his eyes before she began talking at him a mile a minute.
“So I was on the balcony of my castle, and all my subjects were gathered around for my big birthday party. There was a pink cake that was taller than me, and a maypole, and a piñata, and roses everywhere, and a zebra for some reason…Anyway, everyone was cheering and shouting ‘Long live Princess Lola!’ And I was waving at them, and I was about to descend the grand staircase and start the party.
“But then I heard this horrible clanging noise coming from behind me, getting louder and louder. And when I turned around to see what it was, a whole bunch of knights in armor were marching towards me.
“And then they lifted up the visors on their helmets, and none of them had a face! And I just started screaming, and that’s when I woke up.”
Lincoln finally opened his eyes fully and took a good look at Lola. Her face was sheet-white, and he could feel her small body shaking.
“Wow,” Lincoln said. “That’s scary. But…why didn’t you go to Mom and Dad like usual?”
“Lana told me she had a bad dream last night, and that coming to you really helped, so…can I sleep here tonight?”
Lincoln had half a mind to tell her no. He remembered the night when he was too scared to go to sleep after seeing The Harvester; when he had sought the solace of Lola’s company, she had pretty much told him to get lost.
But this was a different situation. Lincoln’s nighttime terror had been self-inflicted, whereas it wasn’t Lola’s fault that she’d had a nightmare. Also, Lincoln was the older one, and comforting younger siblings was kind of in the big-brother job description.
“Okay,” Lincoln replied. Then he took Bun-Bun down from his shelf and put him in Lola’s arms. “Here, see if this helps.”
“Thanks, Lincoln.”
She lay down, curling up on her side and facing away from him. Lincoln put his arm around her.
Lincoln had been only half-awake up to this point, so only now did he think about what had happened with Lana the night before. They had fallen asleep in exactly this position, and that was how… whatever it was…had started.
But he couldn’t just kick Lola out after telling her she could stay. So Lincoln made a plan: He would wait until Lola fell asleep, then roll up his blanket—which he didn’t need anyway, with the summer heat—and put it between them. That would shield Lola from anything he might try to do in his sleep.
It was a good plan. Except that it hinged on Lincoln staying awake for as long as it took Lola to doze off. But that was not to be, and soon the boy was snoozing right alongside his little sister.
***
He was back at the party house, and Girl Jordan was again standing silhouetted in the guestroom doorway.
“Wanna dance?” she asked sexily.
Lincoln took a step toward her. She looked super-hot in that knotted pink top and so-tight white skirt, and the tone of her voice suggested that she wanted to do more than just dance. Lincoln took a step toward her, then stopped, torn.
“Wait a second,” he said. “The last time we did this, I woke up and found myself doing…something…with my little sister.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Girl Jordan replied blithely. “What are the odds of that happening twice?”
Lincoln could actually feel his willpower draining away, like it was running from his head down his body and onto the floor, seeping through the cracks in the floorboards.
“I…guess that’s a good point,” Lincoln replied feebly.
She danced up to him, her every movement slinkily sexy. Then she was pressing that tight little bottom, under that tight little skirt, against his crotch and grinding against him, looking over her shoulder at his face, smoldering desire in her big eyes.
Somehow, it felt even better than the last time. Lincoln forgot about everything except Girl Jordan and what she was making him feel.
Without thought, his hands went to her sides and traveled down along the shallow, just-beginning curves of her waist to the elastic band that held her tight skirt in place. And then they pulled that skirt down. Girl Jordan chuckled lustily.
“Ohhhh, Linky…”
And then Lincoln was in his own bed, lying on his side with his arm around Lola. Just like the night before with Lana, he was rubbing his crotch against his little sister’s bottom. But now the sensation was more intense, because the hem of Lola’s nightgown was hiked up to her waist, and her undies were pulled down to just above her knees. All that separated Lincoln’s hard penis from the little blonde’s bare tushy was the thin cotton of his hand-me-down pajama bottoms.
“Ooooh…” she murmured.
Lincoln froze, because it was either that or jump right out of his skin. But Lola didn’t stop; she just kept rubbing her little bottom against his hardness.
Surely Lola was doing this in her sleep. She had to be. Her nightgown must have ridden up on its own. And her underwear…well, that was harder to explain, but…oh, God, had Lincoln done that while he dreamed of pulling down Girl Jordan’s tight skirt?
“Mmm…” Lola moaned, still rubbing against him. “Don’t stop…”
Was she talking in her sleep, then? She must be, right?
Then it hit him: This was probably just a dream. Lola wouldn’t act like this in real life. And Lincoln had previously had a couple of dreams from which he “woke up” only to discover later that he was still dreaming.
That would explain everything. For that matter, maybe that was what had happened with Lana, too. Maybe he hadn’t done anything wrong at all!
And in that case, he wasn’t doing anything wrong by rubbing against Lola like this, because he wasn’t actually doing it. Yes, the real Lola was lying next to the real Lincoln in his real bed, but she was probably just snoring away while Lincoln himself lay dead to the world and drooling on his pillow. And no, he would never do this with Lola or any of his sisters in real life, but here in the made-up world of his subconscious, what harm would it do? At least one person in the Loud house would be having a good dream.
He reached down and pushed the waistband of his pajama bottoms down to his knees. Then he pressed his bare, hard penis against Lola’s small, tight, bare bottom and resumed rubbing against her, matching her rhythm.
“Ahhhhh…yesssss…” Lola moaned.
He felt her lift her top leg a bit. Then, to his surprise, her small hand took hold of his penis and pulled it down so that it was between her slim, smooth thighs instead of her bottom-cheeks. She closed her legs around him, pressing the length of him against the very wet, very hot cleft of her hairless vagina. Then she started moving her bottom again.
“Ohhhh, wowwww…” Lincoln breathed.
He moved with her, enhancing the sensation of Lola’s slickly wet pussy massaging his shaft. Lola, too, seemed to enjoy Lincoln’s contributions to their efforts, judging by the way she tightened her thighs around his cock to increase the friction.
Here in the safe non-reality of the dream world, Lincoln could acknowledge certain feelings that his waking self dared not entertain. Like the fact that Lola, although very young, was a beautiful girl. Not merely beautiful—attractive. And really, what was wrong with recognizing that? Lola spent her life in the pursuit of beauty. To pretend he was blind to it just because he was her brother seemed ridiculous, like pretending not to notice that Lynn was good at sports, or that Luan was good at…something, probably.
Heck, maybe this dream was trying to tell him that it was okay that he found Lola attractive in the same way that he did Girl Jordan.
The bottom line was, here in the dream world, it was fine that Lincoln found his little sister physically appealing. It was fine that he was deriving pleasure from her small, lovely body.
He thrust faster, intensifying that sweet friction between his genitals and Lola’s. The little girl moved faster, too, moaning and whimpering with effort and pleasure.
“Lola,” Lincoln moaned, “I’m…I’m…gonna…I’m gonna…AH!”
Lincoln squeezed Lola against him as he shot ropes of cum down the length of the little girl’s baby-smooth thighs. Then Lola cried out, “Oh, Linky!” and spasmed and thrashed in his grip.
Everything became hazy after that. Lincoln’s eyelids grew heavy, and when he closed them, the whole world was only the sweet smell of Lola’s hair.
***
“Good morning, Lincoln!” Lola said brightly, shocking the boy awake. “Thanks again for helping me get over my nightmare. Lana was right; you really know how to make everything okay.”
“Gl…glad I could help…” Lincoln managed, his eyes willing to open only halfway.
Lola leaped balletically down to the floor and opened the bedroom door. Her hand on the knob, she turned to look back at Lincoln.
“Oh, and that other thing we did? That’ll just be our little secret.”
She ducked out the door, missing the sight of Lincoln sitting bolt upright and his jaw dropping.
Up next—Chapter 3: It Came in the Night
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Enter the Sandboy