DOPPLEGANGER NEXT DOOR, part 7 (Patreon)

“I think I’d be the one to teach you a lesson…” Tanja whispered back in her own defiance.

Another clap of thunder echoed over the building. The girls’ gazes narrowed, and Katja felt all her skin bristle in anticipation of another catfight. However, that time something restrained her from lunging at the other blonde and grabbing her hair. She wasn’t sure what exactly was stopping her low urges, but she felt that if on that occasion she didn’t lose control at the same moment as her look-alike nemesis, if only the other woman was the one with the short fuse, Katja would prove to herself that they weren’t quite the same—Tanja’s attacking her would put her in some kind of morally superior position, from which she would have no problem in defending herself tooth and nail.

“You know what?” Katja said with calculated contempt. “You’re not worth it. So leave me alone,” she turned to continue with the laundry.

“Stay out of my way,” Tanja retorted, and Katja watched out of the corner of her eye as her rival also went on with her laundry. “Or, better yet, move somewhere else.”

Katja almost gasped as she couldn’t believe the audacity of Tanja. She clenched her jaw, and her promise about not letting the confrontation escalate any further on her part was almost broken just seconds after she made it. In any case, her pride did not allow her to back down.

“Oh, please,” Katja scoffed, throwing a shirt into the washing machine drum with more force than necessary. “I was here first. If anyone should leave, it’s you.”

“You act like you own the place.” In Tanja’s voice and gestures, Katja could see how she tried to keep her composure, and she hated her for also matching her game of self-control. “News flash, girl: I just moved here today, so you can forget about me leaving.”

Katja turned her face just in time to see the other blonde squeeze a pair of shorts between her hands before putting it in the washing machine. Their mutual resentment hung heavy in the air and affected their every move, no matter what both punk rockers were doing.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere just because you want me to,” she said. “So I suggest you get used to the idea that we’re going to be neighbors for a while. And if you can’t handle that…”

“I can easily handle it,” Tanja replied with a cold glance. “So we’ll go on with this as long as you can stand it.”

“I can handle it more than you can,” Katja growled. “You should already know that.”

“We will surely see which of us is right and which is wrong sooner than later,” Tanja grunted.

“Oh, honey, that’s more than guaranteed,” Katja replied.

“I hope that’s a promise, neighbor,” the new girl hissed.

“It’s much more than a promise, neighbor,” Katja assured. “It’s a fact.”

Feeling that she could barely contain her burning, murderous cravings, she meticulously completed the task of loading the washing machine. Her actions were rapid and almost frenetic, and she poured detergent and fabric softener so hastily that a small amount escaped, forming tiny, glistening droplets outside the intended confines. The hum of the machines she was using began to rumble in the room along with the storm as she started the two wash cycles. Avoiding eye contact with Tanja, Katja prepared to leave but, despite her best efforts, a sense of inevitability flowed through her, forcing her past her opponent with an intentional and not at all subtle shoulder bump.

On the way to the exit, Katja noticed something: after years of enduring hungry, brazen stares from men, she could definitely tell when someone was staring at her ass—and Tanja’s twin eyes were now undoubtedly on her butt. She didn’t hesitate to give her black cotton shorts an extra swing, turning the usual discomfort of being objectified into a silent sense of female power.

Yes, look at my ass and suffer, you jealous bitch, Katja growled in her head, taking delight as, at last, and without looking back, she disappeared from the basement.

Chapter 4

Melting

Alone in the now claustrophobic space of the laundry room, with only the soft buzzing of the washing machines that her nemesis had set as sound in her solitude, Tanja found herself succumbing to a surge of overwhelming emotions, parallel to the strong storm raging outside. The thunders were rumbling in synchronicity with the internal turmoil she was experiencing, and the blonde found herself breathing more and more deeply, her heavy panting reverberating against the walls like she was singing a symphony of frustration and suppressed anger. Despite the cold of the rainy night, a few drops of sweat materialized on her forehead.

“I hate that fucking copycat!” she exclaimed to herself in an angry whisper, feeling the rise and fall of her bra-less fat chest under her white crop top. She meant her words, as she had never felt so much hatred for anyone before, let alone in such a short time. “Dirty bitch!” she felt the need to spit out, Katja’s presence triggering a storm of emotions within her, a torrent of animosity and rivalry that drove her to the brink of madness.

Turning back to her washer, Tanja continued with her laundry, not realizing what she was doing—her body acted mechanically, while her mind went over the tense encounter with her rival. The blatant exchange of glances had been a declaration of intent for both of them, and Tanja could only confirm where the crux of the matter lay between the two blondes: their physical antagonism reflected on their perfect duplication of bodies and faces. The insolent mirroring of curves poisoned the relationship between penthouse neighbors to such a level that even an act as mundane as washing clothes had felt like a major battle.

Whatever, Tanja thought bitterly. Even though we look alike, I’m hotter than her. And someday I will prove it to her. For good.

Flushing with embarrassment at some implications of her own thoughts that she herself did not quite understand, the young woman shifted her gaze to the side…and her heart seemed to skip a beat. On her hurried exit from the laundry room, her beautiful enemy had left her laundry basket behind and, threatening Tanja’s racing heart, from one edge dangled conspicuously a pair of black panties adorned with a white capital letter A surrounded by a circle—the distinctive symbol of anarchism.

“Fuck!” Tanja mumbled as her heartbeat pounded again, that time with a force that threatened her with cardiac arrest. Katja’s panties were identical, even in color, to the ones she was wearing under her shorts at that very moment. “Fuck, fuck!”

Tanja didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt tremendously horny with the mere sight of the seductive lingerie—tantalizingly waiting to be picked up like the forbidden apple from some paradise. Too eagerly, she tried to grab the panties, but the fabric slipped from between her nervous fingers and the panties fell into the laundry basket. Swallowing saliva and catching her breath, the blonde tried to control herself before she slowly slipped her fingers into the basket. Her unleashed mind created a dirty sexual metaphor that reddened her even more, but she finally managed to catch the panties. Holding up them in front of her, she awkwardly manipulated them to find the size, a flash of lightning illuminating the small label in a dramatic way. To her annoyance, though not to her surprise, she found that her neighbor wore panties in the same size as her.

“Damn copycat,” Tanja couldn’t help but insist under her breath. Her words lingered in the air as she couldn’t resist her instinct to investigate further. Leaning over, she peered into the laundry basket, only to be met with the realization that Katja had seemingly left behind an entire assortment of her lingerie. The unexpected discovery left Tanja in shock for a second or two, a mixture of excitement, curiosity and agitation hitting her hard physically and mentally. Her hands were soon rummaging through the erotic pile of black, red and purple fabric, and the blonde noticed that all the panties that she was looking at were still in her size.

As she continued examining the forgotten and dirty undergarments, an increasing urge welled within her to come across a bra within the sexy collection. Meeting Katja in the laundry room and seeing her in a tight-fitting white crop top under which there was undeniably no bra had altered her perception of Katja’s breast volume, and now she needed to know how big her nemesis really was in that department. However, not a single bra was to be found, and the absence made Tanja think with some annoyance that perhaps her rival didn’t always need the help of a bra to keep her boobs upright—just as she herself.

“She’s got them firm, so what? That doesn’t mean anything,” she whispered with an angry hiss. At the same time, her resentment towards the other blonde seemed to transfer in some strange, unreal way to the throbbing of her crotch, which quickened in increasing wetness. “I have the hottest and best tits in the building, with or without bra.”

The amalgamation of sexual stimulation and deep hatred disturbed Tanja’s mind with an idea quite unbecoming of her. Her first instinct was to look back at the stairs, aware that Tanja could be back at any moment—when she realized she had left clothes unwashed, or when the wash programs would be over in a few minutes. That only fueled what was going on in her head, so Tanja quickly found herself taking off her shorts and panties. The rain seemed to crash harder against the window as a light breeze caressed her naked and heated sex.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Tanja said to herself without stopping, leaving her black panties with the anarchy symbol over the washing machine before grabbing Katja’s twin panties. “Fuck…” Her heart again threatened to burst as she pulled the stolen lingerie up her toned legs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” A weird perverse excitement flooded her from top to bottom, all her skin bristling, and she couldn’t help but gasp halfway between nervousness and ecstasy when at last her neighbor’s panties covered her aroused pussy.

Outside, a clap of thunder ripped through the air with a frightening roar. Tanja, unable to control herself, grabbed her sensitive and fat bosoms and bit her juicy lower lip as she felt, or so she thought she felt, the indecent wetness in Katja’s unwashed panties touching the one in her own sex. For a moment, she seriously believed she was going to have an orgasm right there.