Blurugirl
Star
- Joined
- Oct 25, 2019
Shahlah Jacobson thought she had a perfect life. Mostly.
Granted, her life hadn't started off perfectly, mostly or otherwise. Her father had become enamored with an Iranian man, and Shahlah had been the result of the romance. But the romance quickly devolved into abuse and control from her biological father, who left her mother and her when Shahlah was five,
No problem. When Shahlah was nine, Shahlah's mother would meet the man who would become Shahlah's stepfather.
Shahlah loved her stepfather. But she loved all her family. Shahlh's stepfather was a commercial artist who still kept tabs with his classical roots. He was successful enough that he could run his own business out of their office. But he also taught an art history class at the local college, and drew "non-commercially", as he called it. And though Shahlah had no talent of her own, her stepfather made sure Shahlah was still introduced to his world. He had not only taught her about different artists and artistic movements throughout history, but also how to appreciate and critically analyze art as a whole.
Shahlah had a good relationship with her mother. Mostly. Well, Shahalah's felt her slightly nerdy mathlete daughter should be outgoing, and she definitely did not appreciate the mostly frumpy, form hiding clothes her eighteen year old daughter wore. But Shahlah still appreciated her mother. Well, things had become strained between Shahlah's mother and stepfather, and she knew her stepfather spent some nights on the couch in his office, but he always said that was because he was working late. And if the two were having problems, they were going to great lengths not to expose their kids to their marital strife.
And Shahlah adored her little five year old brother. Mostly.
Hunter was blonde and blue eyed (the same as everyone else in the family except Shahlah) and was just as sweet as he could be. He would sit by Shahlah on the couch, cuddle up to her, and ask her for a story if she wasn't busy. Or just sit there and be sweet and good if she was busy.
Hunter was perfect. Mostly.
Except Hunter would draw on anything if given a chance. In response to Hunter's artistic exuberance, the walls were painted with wipeable paints, Hunter was given special crayons, and anything you didn't want drawn on, was locked up and put away. Because Hunter would listen and obey about everything except drawing.
Which is where the story begins.
Shahlah's stepfather would keep his office locked, to ensure that Hunter didn't draw on any of the more expensive books he had on his shelves. In addition, all important papers were kept locked in the bottom drawer of the office.
Shahlah and her mother had keys to the office, and Shahlah went into the office one to use the family printer. While she was printing out a paper due on Monday, she noticed the bottom drawer of the desk was ajar. She was about to close the drawer when a folder in it caughter eye. It was titled "Life Drawings." Shahlah immediately knew that meant Nude Sketches. Although she was a modest young woman (overly modest, in her mother's opinion), Shahlah wasn't shocked about the idea of her father making nude sketches. That's what artists did, after all. She would have been more shocked if her father made landscape paintings. He did have curt words about that sort of thing.
Curious, Shahlah pulled out the folder and began flipping through it. She didn't recognize some of the models, of course, but assumed they were student models her father had met at the college. One of the models, though, looked familiar to Shahlah. It took the teen a few minutes to recognize who the nude woman was in those sketches. It was HER!
Shahal was more than a little shocked that her father has been imagining her nude. Well, he had not only been imagining, he had been mentally airbrushing the nude mental image of his stepdaughter. The young woman in these pictures was gorgeous! It was sort of like the optimized version of what Shahlah thought she could ever aspire to.
Probably the only thing her stepfather had not improved on, Shahlah though with a self-conscious smirk, was the size of Shahlah's breasts in the sketches. But then she couldn't really fault her father on that. After all, with the frumpy clothes she made sure she was wearing any time she stepped out of her room, he had no idea on how to guess. The breasts in the sketches looked to be about a cup smaller than Shahlah's D cup.
Still, the part of Shahlah's mind that her stepfather had trained to look at a drawing analytically thought they were good, if woefully inaccurate. So Shahlah took a couple of post its from the desk, wrote some critiques, attached it to the drawings, then returned them to the bottom drawer. This time, though, she made sure the bottom drawer was locked. Hunter definitely didn't need to get to those pictures!
Chuckling, Shahlah locked up her father's office, headed to her bedroom, did a few things on the compute, then called it a night. At ten o'clock on a Friday night, Shahlah was happily asleep in her own bedroom.
Granted, her life hadn't started off perfectly, mostly or otherwise. Her father had become enamored with an Iranian man, and Shahlah had been the result of the romance. But the romance quickly devolved into abuse and control from her biological father, who left her mother and her when Shahlah was five,
No problem. When Shahlah was nine, Shahlah's mother would meet the man who would become Shahlah's stepfather.
Shahlah loved her stepfather. But she loved all her family. Shahlh's stepfather was a commercial artist who still kept tabs with his classical roots. He was successful enough that he could run his own business out of their office. But he also taught an art history class at the local college, and drew "non-commercially", as he called it. And though Shahlah had no talent of her own, her stepfather made sure Shahlah was still introduced to his world. He had not only taught her about different artists and artistic movements throughout history, but also how to appreciate and critically analyze art as a whole.
Shahlah had a good relationship with her mother. Mostly. Well, Shahalah's felt her slightly nerdy mathlete daughter should be outgoing, and she definitely did not appreciate the mostly frumpy, form hiding clothes her eighteen year old daughter wore. But Shahlah still appreciated her mother. Well, things had become strained between Shahlah's mother and stepfather, and she knew her stepfather spent some nights on the couch in his office, but he always said that was because he was working late. And if the two were having problems, they were going to great lengths not to expose their kids to their marital strife.
And Shahlah adored her little five year old brother. Mostly.
Hunter was blonde and blue eyed (the same as everyone else in the family except Shahlah) and was just as sweet as he could be. He would sit by Shahlah on the couch, cuddle up to her, and ask her for a story if she wasn't busy. Or just sit there and be sweet and good if she was busy.
Hunter was perfect. Mostly.
Except Hunter would draw on anything if given a chance. In response to Hunter's artistic exuberance, the walls were painted with wipeable paints, Hunter was given special crayons, and anything you didn't want drawn on, was locked up and put away. Because Hunter would listen and obey about everything except drawing.
Which is where the story begins.
Shahlah's stepfather would keep his office locked, to ensure that Hunter didn't draw on any of the more expensive books he had on his shelves. In addition, all important papers were kept locked in the bottom drawer of the office.
Shahlah and her mother had keys to the office, and Shahlah went into the office one to use the family printer. While she was printing out a paper due on Monday, she noticed the bottom drawer of the desk was ajar. She was about to close the drawer when a folder in it caughter eye. It was titled "Life Drawings." Shahlah immediately knew that meant Nude Sketches. Although she was a modest young woman (overly modest, in her mother's opinion), Shahlah wasn't shocked about the idea of her father making nude sketches. That's what artists did, after all. She would have been more shocked if her father made landscape paintings. He did have curt words about that sort of thing.
Curious, Shahlah pulled out the folder and began flipping through it. She didn't recognize some of the models, of course, but assumed they were student models her father had met at the college. One of the models, though, looked familiar to Shahlah. It took the teen a few minutes to recognize who the nude woman was in those sketches. It was HER!
Shahal was more than a little shocked that her father has been imagining her nude. Well, he had not only been imagining, he had been mentally airbrushing the nude mental image of his stepdaughter. The young woman in these pictures was gorgeous! It was sort of like the optimized version of what Shahlah thought she could ever aspire to.
Probably the only thing her stepfather had not improved on, Shahlah though with a self-conscious smirk, was the size of Shahlah's breasts in the sketches. But then she couldn't really fault her father on that. After all, with the frumpy clothes she made sure she was wearing any time she stepped out of her room, he had no idea on how to guess. The breasts in the sketches looked to be about a cup smaller than Shahlah's D cup.
Still, the part of Shahlah's mind that her stepfather had trained to look at a drawing analytically thought they were good, if woefully inaccurate. So Shahlah took a couple of post its from the desk, wrote some critiques, attached it to the drawings, then returned them to the bottom drawer. This time, though, she made sure the bottom drawer was locked. Hunter definitely didn't need to get to those pictures!
Chuckling, Shahlah locked up her father's office, headed to her bedroom, did a few things on the compute, then called it a night. At ten o'clock on a Friday night, Shahlah was happily asleep in her own bedroom.
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