The Fashion Police

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It started like any normal Tuesday – until my stepsister stormed into my room. “Big brother,” she said in that tone that meant business, “take off my shirt.” Weird request, but okay. I removed it.

“Now the skirt,” she continued. I obliged, though this was getting strange. “Bra and panties too,” she added without missing a beat. By now I was fully committed to this bizarre scenario, so off they came.

Then came the mic drop moment. “Just so we’re clear,” she said, hands on hips, “if I catch you playing dress-up with my wardrobe again, mom and dad will hear all about it.” Guess my secret modeling career was over before it began.

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