Your heart rate fluctuates painfully, then returns to normal, scolding you for your stupidity.   Carly was of course planning on catching you all along, knowing perfectly well you probably wouldn’t survive the drop to the ground; you were so caught up in the heat of the moment and fear that she really wouldn’t do it, she actually managed to get to you.  For the second time this hour, your sister made you truly believe you were about to die.

                At this rate, you won’t last past lunch, whether or not Carly directly kills you somehow.

                Carly brings her other hand up underneath you, creating a double cup and curling all her fingers in around you.  You watch, still helpless to move much, as her fingers close together, creating a cool pod of flesh using her hands.  All you can see now is the little stream of light coming in from the space between her two thumbs, and even that is just a little crack as she presses her fingers together, trying to close the crevices and encase you completely.

                You can’t see anything, but the gravity shifts again, and you are pulled downward into the ground of Carly’s palm, most likely as she stands up.  Her hand jostle as she walks quickly, allowing you to be slammed helplessly against each palm inside her double fist like a ping pong ball, your sweaty and overheated form meeting a cushy wall of cool flesh, then disappearing against with a smack, but returning immediately as you smack into the other palm, your head bending downward to keep from bumping up against her thumbs above you.

                When Carly’s hand cage opens again, you find yourself under the harsh overhead lights of the bathroom.  You gulp.  What could go on in here?

                Carly removes one of the hands holding you, cupping one precariously around you and stepping to the toilet, lifting the lid.  You suddenly feel a wave of cold hit you, but you don’t move for fear of rolling right off her palm and directly into the water below.  Her hand slowly shifts, lowering you closer and closer until her hand is about level with the tank of the toilet in back.  You refuse to get up.  What’s going on?

                “Ready for your next lesson, little bro?”

                You don’t move.

                “C’mon, this is like a one person show right now.  Nod your little head; you don’t have to talk if you can’t, I guess.”

                You nod your head.  What else is there to do?  Carly beams.

                “Good.  All right, let’s get to work.  Do you know what your next lesson is?”

                Your head shakes no, weakly.

                “Well, I’ll tell you…” she says smartly.  “Let’s just say I hope you like the splash zone at sea world…” she says, her eyes moving to the toilet.

                With a start, your entire body clams up, trying to attach yourself to your sister’s cool palm in any way possible.  Carly breaks into hysterical laughter.

                “Oh my God, would you look at how pathetic you are?  It was just a joke,” she says, raising an eyebrow and wrinkling her nose in disgust.  “Believe me, if we did THAT…” she continues.  “…I wouldn’t want to touch you again.  I’d just have to… flush you away and forget you existed or something…” she says, trailing off as if actually considering the mechanics of this thought.  She shrugs.

                “Well, it doesn’t matter.  No, little bro, we’re here in case you have to go potty.  I don’t want you freaking out on me later when you have an emergency, so go ahead; empty yourself or whatever,” she says, smirking.  You start to crawl to the edge of her fingers, but you’re too tired to actually balance yourself on her single hand if you stood up.  Your bladder frankly is filled to the brim from the massive drink you took last night, but you know that if you stood up, you’d go careening toward the glossy sewage train below you, and you’re not sure if you trust Carly to catch you when she’s not expecting it.  You don’t move.

                “Can’t move, huh, little bro?  Nod your head if you don’t think you can stand up,” she says, waiting for you.  You nod.

                “Okay, okay, fine, it looks like I have to do EVERYTHING for you, then.  But I guess I’m your big sister…” she says.  The fingers of her other hand return, and she slides two of them slowly and calmly down each of your quads and shins, reaching you ankles and pinching them into the cool fingertips.  Then, in the hand holding you, she latches her pinky and thumb under your armpits, letting you go limp in midair as she holds you up like a hammock of flesh, leaving your lower body hanging precariously in the air.

                “You can go ahead… I mean, if you want to.  I’m not going to give you a chance later,” she says.  So you do it.  You piss quickly, watching as it falls, so inconsequential, toward the bowl below.  It barely makes up a couple normal sized drops, if that, and it drops with such an inaudible tinkle.  As you finish, Carly moves you into a diagonal leaning position in midair so she can look at you.  “Good job, you peed, little bro!” she says excitedly, as if to a toddler in training.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take a shower…” she says, and her hand lowers you downward toward the sink.  Below you, you see a plastic cup with flowery designs on the side.  She lowers you toward it, stops at the ridge of the cup, and releases your limp form into it.  “…I’ll bet you’d prefer I take a shower soon, anyway.  I’ll bet you can smell all the hard work I’ve been doing just for you, outside,” she says, winking at you as she leans her face over the cup before disappearing from sight.  Fifteen minutes go by; you hear the shower curtain tugged around, the water running, it stopping as the faucet dribbles the last remnants, and finally a towel being whipped around.

                You manage to lift yourself into a more comfortable leaning position against the base of the cup.  Lining the walls are large, white droobles of old, clingy foam having dried thoroughly like plaster to the side of the cup.  You question it for a moment, and suddenly realize you’re sitting in Carly’s toothbrushing spit cup.  Figures.  At least it smells mildly minty, however stale and musty it also is.  So you’re sitting in a cup that normally holds the soapy remnants of your little sister’s grimy, end-of-the-day teeth and tongue?  Big whoop.

                Suddenly, Carly’s entire hand is smushing into the thin opening of the cup to reach you.  As her freshly washed, cold hand closes around you and lifts you up by your waist, you can already smell the oily acne wash she put on her hands and applied to her face.  It’s a sharp smell, but it’s bearable.

                Raising you out of the cup, your sister shifts her grip on you again, taking you back into a full fist.  Her hand is now pretty icy from the cold shower, and you can’t help but shiver a little.  She grins.

                “Too cold for you, little bro?” she asks.

                You nod, slowly, your teeth chattering as the freezing flesh folds press into every inch of you.

                “Sorry about that.  Hey, cheer up, you won’t be in there for long,” she says, opening the bathroom door and beginning to walk.  In response to your coldness, you can feel her fingers shimmying around you in a swaying motion, trying to generate some heat.  Mostly all it does is smear her icy finger flesh across your ass, causing you to tingle at the unpleasant temperature tickling across your whole body.  As she swings her arms casually, wind whipping your eyes and rocking you through the air like a Viking ship carnival ride, you look up at her massive form.  Her freshly washed hair hangs in damp tangles around her neck.  Having abandoned the work clothes, she now sports a thin, sunny yellow tank top and white short shorts.  You try to look down, but you can’t see anything below her waist, as the protective wall of finger flesh extends out just a bit too far for you to see.

                You watch as Carly opens the door to and enters your own bedroom.  She surveys the room, looking at all the homework you left strewn around, then hops over it, landing hard on your bed.  She lays backwards on it, and suddenly her bare feet and legs come into view again, and she crosses them, resting them directly on your pillow.  Her wrist twists back toward her lower body, resting her hand on her quad, just so you can see the rest of her.  Knowing you’re watching, she presses her large bare feet squarely down into the cushy pillow where your face tends to sit every night.  Figures.

                After a brief moment of this, she twists her wrist back around slightly, turning you around to face her upper body, in a sitting position at the foot of the bed.  She puffs her cheeks up in an overly dramatic deep breath, then lets it out, staring you down again.

                “I hope you’re feeling rested, little bro…” she says.  As if the twenty minutes you just had since your biceps were put through more strain than ever before in your life as your sister used you as a human naval ring would be a break for you.  The pain is slowly subsiding, but you still feel just as tired, your head crumpled onto the cushy pillow of your sister’s taut finger.  “…because you’re about to get a little workout.  But you like those, don’t you?  Working out?  Giving your big, manly muscles some exercise?” she says playfully.  All you can do is groan.  She tsks at you.

                “You’re not going to do very well with that kind of attitude, Jack.  Lift your little head up for me.”

                You roll your neck around, making a small cracking noise, and lift your droopy head up, it flopping to the side.  You’re horribly fatigued and frankly getting insanely hungry right now.

                “C’mon…” she coos at you, and a second later you feel the pointer finger of her other hand tucking slowly under your head, lifting it up.  To support your head being upright, she quickly grabs up the other side of your head in her thumb, gingerly supporting your head between her two massive, cold fingers, squeezing your cheeks together despite her attempt at carefulness.  “There you go, little bro.  Now, c’mon, give your big sissy a smile.  Just a little one,” she says, grinning hopefully at you.  You try, moving your lips up a little at the corners.  She nods her head, as if coaxing you to continue.  “See, it’s not so hard.  Now just… try to stand up…” she says, and suddenly her cold palm releases you, the fleshy prison bars of her fingers flipping off.  You instantly fall down, right onto her rock-hard quad muscle, perfectly smoothed and tan, like her stomach.  You knew your sister was an athletic basketball player, but it had never occurred to you how tough she was for her age.  Marginally, you feel less embarrassed for how long it took you to throw her foot off your face last week during your little hang-out session.

                Carly instantly throws her head back in laughter, leaving you crumpled on her wide quad; as if to try to wake you up, she begins flexing her quad up and down, shaking you around a bit.  Trying to grab on to the smooth flesh, you manage to stagger to your feet as your sister finally ceases clenching her leg muscles.  She pulls one leg back up, bending at the knee, to her chest, but leaves the one you’re sitting on stretched all the way out to the pillow.  You don’t allow yourself to turn back and see that wrathful ped, instead focusing your gaze up at your sister’ face, looking humorously at you, her lips puckered as she ponders you.

                “Okay, I can see you’re pretty tired right now.  So we’ll just start with a warm-up.”

                “Of what?” you manage weakly, blinking several times.  She grins.

                “My feet.  I just know you’ve missed them,” she says, and you feel her quad ripple again.  Probably flexing her toes behind you, although you don’t turn to look.  Your face, unable to contain your apprehension at what’s to come, twists into a look of nervousness.  “What’s wrong?  Are you still scared of them?” she chuckles.  You don’t honor that one with an answer.  She clears her throat.

                “I even CLEANED them for you, little bro.  Just for you.  I promise they don’t smell bad anymore.  Not THAT bad, anyway,” she says, rolling her eyes.  Your stomach gurgles in hunger.  “So, before we get to the lesson, let’s just try to get you a little more comfortable with them…” she murmurs.

                “W-What?” you stammer.

                “You heard me right.  I don’t want you to be afraid of my feet.  And believe me, if you’re afraid of them this much, we’re never going to get anywhere.  Now hold still,” she orders calmly, and suddenly you watch as the leg she had pulled up against her torso, rises up.  Her freshly washed foot comes into view, her clean toes wriggling in the AC breeze of your room.  Then, using her toes as grippers, she clasps her foot against the side of her sizeable quad, jiggling it slightly despite its tightness, with you sitting atop it.  You look side to side, wondering whether it’s even worth the effort to try to avoid what’s coming.  Looking forward, her foot climbs up her quad like a wild animal closing in on its prey, her toes curling in and out in anticipation of no-doubt having you firmly tucked underneath them, leaving you vulnerable for her to totally and completely take apart.

                Then, it pounces.  Her foot crosses over her quad, her toe pointed, and smacks you hard in the abdomen, the sheer, meaty rotundness of her dry big toe tip pressing into your stomach and sending you flying backward off her thick leg.  You land crumpled in the blue bedspread, your body rolled helplessly against your sister’s muscular hamstring under her leg.  The wind is knocked completely from you, except not this time by a muddy bare foot.  This time by a single toe.  And it hurts a hell of a lot more than the first time.

                You try to push yourself up, a prospect that any other time would have been a cinch, except for the fact that your arms are so sore from earlier you can’t even do a single push-up to get up.  As you flatten yourself out, trying to push up against the uneven blanketed ground, you look to your left and suddenly see a gargantuan, dense mass of peachy flesh and peeling, dried skin slamming down beside you.  The big toe.  You try to push back against the blanket, but suddenly find the toe curling in toward your shoulders, bending in deep, white angles.  It presses into you and instantly you feel how utterly dry Carly’s big toe is.  It almost hurts you as her deep, discolored ridges grind into your arms and skin, pulsing lightly to work you a little.  From your right side, then, a long, plithey second toe curls inward, almost as rough as the big toe, turning her joints yellow as she bends her toe teasingly at you as it too curls in to collect its helpless prey.  You can do nothing.  Her big and second toes begin to press into your arms, then start to slide around, juggling your arms and sides to get a good grip on you.  It’s actually painful, rubbing your arms red and raw once again with the cold, gummy surfaces of flesh concealing incredible power.  Finally, taking hold of your weak obliques, her toes squeeze on you like never before, exerting incredible pressure on your sides.  You groan in agony, doubting Carly can hear or would care at all about the pain she’s inflicting on you.

                With terrifying strength, then, your little sister’s toes begin to lift off the ground, with your limp and powerless form clamped like a foam pedicure pad into the crevice.  You are pushed through the air, finally feeling Carly’s foot come to rest.  You look down and realize she has crossed this foot over the other leg, with you facing forward, back at the rest of her long body.  Your eyes look straight down, seeing the thick veins of her foot running down to her ankles, and finally her horrifying and muscular legs, along her white shorts and yellow shirt and finally to her face, her arms crossed casually across her chest.  She gives you a stern and knowing smile, giving you a little extra squeeze from her toes as she does so.  She seems to have you right where she wants you.

                “See?  My feet aren’t so bad, Jack!” she says encouragingly.  “They don’t always have to hurt you.  If you do what your big sissy says, they can… be your friends,” she says, making use of an odd metaphor.  “I PROMISE I’ve got you.  You’re not going anywhere.  Just try to relax.”

                You do, finally giving up the hope of struggling away.  You let your face and upper body flop downward, hanging down over the soft top of Carly’s foot.  Wonderfully, there’s almost no trace of the hellish, sweaty scents like last time.  Instead, it’s a fruity and flowery body wash used perhaps far too heavily and even this makes you want to cough, so thickly was it spread, but it’s an infinite improvement no matter how you look at it.  Thick fruit or squalid, drying foot sweat?  You think fruit.  To give yourself a sense of balance, you slide your hands down, pressing into the soft and almost inviting flesh of the top of her foot.

                The bottom, of course, is an entirely different extreme.  Your legs and crotch flop down, hanging hard against your sister’s dry and dusty foot ball.  On your delicate dick, you can feel the slight flakiness of the skin, hanging loosely from the underside of Carly’s foot, rubbed absolutely ragged from all the tough basketball she plays.  You sigh, unable to move, jammed hard and humiliatingly between your little sister’s toes just because she wanted you there.

                You almost want the lesson to get started already so you can be freed sooner.  Each minute spent here, your naked body so completely subdued by just two of your little sister’s arid toes, continues killing your already nearly-dead dignity.

                “Just relax, little bro.  Relax.  Just… get to know my feet a little better.  It’s okay…” she says soothingly, making no other movements to her feet, her toes locked firmly in place around your bruised sides.  You know her feet pretty well at this point, you think, and would be perfectly fine with being let out at this point in time. 

                “Little Jack is gonna fly!” she says with a little squeal, and suddenly her foot is lifting up in the air, her leg perfectly straight.  You suddenly have to look down at your sister (a refreshing oddity, when you normally have a good five inches on her, but haven’t actually been in that position in half a day) as she holds you directly over her torso, her powerful leg stretching down and lifting up as if you weren’t there.  She slowly begins to rotate her ankle, turning you around.  She tightens her toes a little more on you, curling them downward a little bit to grip you more around your hips than sides as she lowers her heel back onto the pillow.  Then, letting her foot press slightly into the airy pillow, she crosses her other leg past the foot now holding you.  Your heart skips a beat as the ball of her foot and toes cross mere inches from your face, a vivid and terrifying sculpture of wrinkles and flaky white skin around the admittedly cracked tips of her toes.  However, they pass by you, her ankle and foot top in plain view as she rests that foot on her ankle.  You look back at her face.

                “I hope you’re feeling a little more comfortable in there now, Jack.”

                You just hang there.  Answering either way, affirmative or negative, doesn’t seem like it would be too good for you.  Somehow, you get the feeling that no matter what you do with yourself, it won’t have much input on whatever this is leading to.

                “So let’s talk…” she begins, slowly re-starting the toe curling, again grinding her dry toes into your sides.  You feel big scuffs beginning to form as her powerful toes carve into your weak self in dry grooves.  “…about you.  I’ve realized something about you, little bro.  It’s something I don’t really like about you.”

                Of course.  What DOESN’T she like about you?
                “And as your big sis, it’s my job to make sure it gets fixed so you’ll be a nicer person.  Tell me, Jack, what do you think of… women?”

                Confused again.  Already your mind starts getting to work.  Each lesson has started innocently enough.  Where could this possibly be going?  You don’t have a good feeling right now…

                “What do you mean?” you say slowly, trying to drag out the time you have to decipher what’s going on and hopefully try to steer yourself out of it.  Or at least into a milder form.  Although, as evidenced by your current location between your little sister’s toes, it doesn’t appear you’ve been too successful thus far.

                “What do you think I mean, silly.  Women.  How about this question, then.  Do you respect women?”

                “Yes!  Of course I do!” you say quickly, and for one of the first legitimate times in the last few hours, you’re actually not lying through your teeth just to avoid Carly’s wrath.  At any rate, if you somehow manage to survive this ordeal, you imagine you’ll have a form of reserved respect for your sister from here on out after all of this.

                Her toes cave in harder on your body, continuing to grind.  “No you don’t.  Quit the lying, Jack.   Lying annoys me, and I know you don’t want to do that.”

                “But I’m not!  I respect women plenty!  You’re just my sister, we’ve argued and stuff before because… that’s what we do, but I honestly do respect them,” you argue heartily.  This debate doesn’t appear to be going well, though.  Carly shakes her head.

                “I’m not even talking about me, Jack.  I’m talking about all women.  Like, what about Jenny?  You sure didn’t respect HER, so don’t try to lie to me!” she says.  The grinding seems to get harder.  You wonder whether or not your skin will be rubbed so red it may bleed.

                You know pretty well what she’s talking about.  Jenny.  The memories return.

                It’s a mere six months ago.  You’ve just gotten back from a workout and today, you pushed yourself to the absolute max.  Your arms and legs are honestly so tired you have to limp a little, your hands feeling a little numb as you turn the doorknob to enter the house.  You got little sleep the previous night while doing homework, and as your endorphins are still going like crazy from the workout, sleep would be difficult, but you’re so tired you decide to just take a quick tab to help it come.  With no one else home, you chug a couple bottles of water and the tablet then collapse on the living room couch for a nap.

                You awake, your eyes shifting to the clock.  Two hours later.  Not bad for a nap, although it appears the tab didn’t have its full effect; maybe you should have taken two.  You try to move and find your wrists bound.  You shake at them, your arms still deathly tired and in no shape to pull anything.  Looking all the way up, you recognize it as a thin but durable rope from the garage.  It bends down below the couch, probably tied underneath.  The same has happened to your ankles.  The couch is pretty wide, and as you roll over to try and flip off of the couch, the taut ropes yank you back.

                Your mind gets frantic.  You wonder if someone’s broken into the house and left you like this in your deep tablet-induced sleep.  You curse yourself, but look up curiously to see the stereo and HDTV still resting calmly on the table.  Maybe there was no one.

                It hits you as soon as you hear the foot stomping a floor above.  Carly.  That little bitch is going to pay for this hard.  Ever since the camping trip fall you forced her to take, she’s been threatening to get revenge.  The set-up was so perfect; you left yourself vulnerable to attack in your deep sleep on the wide couch with sore, unusable muscles.  How could you have been so stupid.

                You hear two sets of feet stomping down the stairs and then walking into view.  It’s Carly, her shirt from basketball team training still damp in front, along with her friend Jenny Sheller, in equally damp workout clothes and white flip-flops.

                Carly is, as you’ve noted before, about 5’9” and relatively tall for her age.  It’s made all the odder looking, then, to see her standing next to Jenny, who dwarfs her at 6’1” as easily the tallest girl in the eighth grade, just an inch below your height.  Jenny is the star player on the basketball team (for obvious reasons), and has been friends with Carly for the last year ever since Carly was recruited.  She has reasonably pale skin and a pretty face, with deep blue eyes, long brown hair, and thin cheeks, which sits atop a very tall and lithe body, her long legs making up most of her overall form.  In fact, you’d bet her legs are marginally longer than yours despite your overall height advantage; with such long limbs and short shorts, her tough quads and calves are plainly visible, so recently worked at basketball practice.  The two girls appear almost as opposites, with Jenny’s fair complexion and brown hair standing against Carly’s tanned skin and dirty blond hair, but they go together well.  Jenny’s never really interacted with you, but you can’t imagine her being too pleasant if she’s friends with your sister.

                They walk into the room, their mouths pursed into smug smiles.  After stopping in front of you, though, both break into hysterical laughter, Carly leaning against the shoulder of her large friend, Jenny putting a long arm around Carly’s shoulder in a half-hug.  They do this for a moment, the anger mounting in you, until they begin walking closer, stopping right next to the couch, looking down at you condescendingly from a standing position, Jenny in particular having to bend her neck down to see you.  Carly, finally catching her breath, covers her mouth with a hand to calm herself, pointing down at you with the other hand.  You desperately want to grab at her arm and throw her to the ground to get her back for this, but you’re completely immobilized.

                “Did you have a nice nap, bro?” asks Carly finally, chortling a little more.  You growl a little.

                “Carly, untie me, this isn’t funny,” you say.  You struggle a little.  “How the hell did you get it this tight, anyway, how do you even know how to do this?” you ask, looking up at the ropes.

                “Oh it wasn’t me, it was Jenny,” says Carly cheerfully, clutching her friend’s shoulder.   Jenny grins slyly.

                “You?” you say disbelievingly, looking up at her.  “How?”

                “Three older brothers, all of them eagle scouts.  Taught me a lot of that when I was like 5,” says Jenny, her voice a little lower than Carly’s because of her size.  She giggles slightly.  God, she seems just as agonizingly annoying to be around as Carly.

                “Okay, okay, fine, you’re both very impressive, you got me while I was ASLEEP,” you retort, tugging at the ropes.  “Now please get this crap untied…”

                Carly shakes her head no.  “Not yet, bro.”

                You groan audibly.  This oughta be good.  You can’t wait to get untied so you can drag the hose inside and soak Carly with some ice cold water.

                “Okay, whatever.  What do you want to say?” you answer curtly, hoping to get this over with.

                Carly tilts her head up a little to look Jenny in the face, and nods.  Turning around, her back facing you, Jenny sits down hard on your stomach, her muscular gluts hitting you with surprising impact.  You can feel the cool dampness of her short shorts that not long ago were being overworked into as Jenny carried off lay-ups with those powerful quads.

                You grunt loudly.  Like Carly, she doesn’t weight incredibly much (although she definitely weighs more than your sister just because of the extra four inches she’s got) but she hits you hard, almost knocking the wind out of you again.  Carly laughs loudly at her friend, who shakes her ass a few times on your stomach, settling in.  She looks down at you, her pearly whites gleaming at you gleefully.

                “Sorry.  Hope that didn’t hurt,” giggles Jenny, leaning back against the couch and placing a hand on your chest to balance herself.  Her rougher looking hands are massive for a girl three years younger than you, easily the size of yours if not a little larger, and they look like they could easily palm that basketball.  No wonder she’s the star player.

                “No, no, not at all,” you answer back, sarcasm dripping from your voice.  You look at Carly.  “Wow, you’re hilarious, you tied me up and now you have your friend using me as a chair; you’ve had your fun.  Untie these stupid ropes.”

                Carly giggles.  “Your voice is starting to annoy me, Jack,” she says in a voice of fake but stern authoritarianism.

                You roll your eyes, slowing your breathing to account for the mass of the tall teenager sitting on your lungs.  “Well, I’m not shutting up until you untie me.  You’ll have to tape my mouth closed,” you say jokingly but getting angrier at the same time.

                Carly laughs again, slapping her bare leg in reaction.  “That’s a good idea, bro, I’ll have to try that someday so I don’t have to listen to your stupid voice anymore.  But I have a better idea…” she says, looking Jenny in the face.  Jenny nods, then stands up, and takes a step sideways to the right, right over your face.  You gasp a little as Jenny’s butt comes slamming down onto your face, her cushy but firm cheeks smacking your face hard with the extra effort she put into sitting down quickly.  As Jenny is thin, her butt doesn’t cover your entire face, leaving your eyes out there and your nose available to breath, but her strong ass easily covers your mouth, discontinuing your ability to speak effectively.  You begin to grunt angrily, enraged.  Even in your tired state, you could pretty easily throw this giant off of you, but not with your limbs currently impaired.  You continue to struggle at the wrists, trying to keep your mouth closed for fear of tasting Jenny’s cold and sweaty shorts.

                Resting her hand now on your stomach for balance, Jenny’s gartantuan thighs start flexing above your lips through the fabric of her thin shorts, spiting you.  As Jenny’s leg muscles are pretty large, it’s visible to all present.  Carly laughs harder.  “That’s hilarious, Jenny, keep it up,” she says, doubling over in laughter.  Jenny’s thighs are actually starting to push down against your jaw, painfully.  It’s not like your comments were working before, but now you can’t even complain, as Jenny’s dense leg muscles mute any sound of objection you make.  She leans over and looks down at your face below her ass.

                “You told me he was kinda tough, but he doesn’t feel like it to me…” says Jenny thoughtfully, looking to Carly quickly but back at you.  “I mean, I can feel it, he doesn’t even have abs…” she says.  You feel the bottom of your shirt lifted a little, revealing your midsection.  She’s lying, you actually sport reasonably impressive abs for your age; she seems just to be trying to get you fruitlessly madder.  Jenny’s large, somewhat muscled hand presses down onto your stomach, feeling ice cold against your still somewhat warm body from the workout.  Her long fingers knead at your abs for a moment before lightly slapping them and recovering them with your shirt.  “Nope.  Nothing there.”

She jiggles her cheeks quickly against your face, and smiles wider.  “Kiss my ass, dude,” she says playfully, not really meaning it but honestly, she almost is making you do it just by sitting where she is.  She continues to sit on your face for several minutes, and she and Carly actually start up a conversation about whatever party is going on this weekend.  You’re getting ridiculously pissed off, and aren’t anticipating taking any prisoners with your words when you get out of this or your parents return home.  Whatever happens sooner.  Finally, their conversation draws to a close.  Jenny looks down at your side.

“You sound like kind of a jerk to your sister here, ummm…” she says, looking back up at Carly, who quickly says your name to her.  “…Jack…” continues Jenny, looking back down at you.  “So I think you ought to start treating her better.  Or next time I’ll just take my pants off and poop into that fat mouth of yours…” she says gleefully.  You want to strangle her as badly as you want to strangle Carly.  Your sister and her apparently extremely forward and rude friend break into laughter again, the chortles causing Jenny’s cheeks to clench against your mouth through her shorts.  She looks back down at you.  “Okay?  Sound good to you, Mr. Tough Guy?”  You nod obediently, just wanting to be released.  She nods to Carly, who starts undoing the knots under the couch Jenny tied.  Wow.  Your sister decided the only way to get you back for the camping trip was to bring in her Amazonian friend to act like a total bitch to you while you were completely vulnerable and defenseless.  As the ropes come undone, you finally are free.  Jenny doesn’t even bother sitting up, which is her own fault; you wrap your arms around her and throw her off, onto the couch.  It’s not a violent throw, as you still don’t intend on physically hurting someone, but it’s got enough force to at least be uncomfortable.  She hits the cushion headfirst, then sits back up, looking at you with the same evil eye Carly uses.  It must run in friend packs.  She lifts one of her gargantuan size 10s up in the air, pressing it against your stomach, pushing away from you.

“Get off me!” you growl angrily, swatting her foot away and standing up.

“Hey, girl, I don’t think your bro here has improved at all… if he falls asleep again, just call me up, we’ll try it again sometime,” she says somewhat sarcastically, just trying to get a rise.  It works.

“If you get your fat ass anywhere near me again, I’ll bite a piece of it off,” you growl with terrible ferocity, echoing through the house.

Quite truthfully, if Jenny wasn’t being such a total bitch, you would have more than likely been checking her assets out subtly.  As it is, though, you’re in too much of a rage to think of that.  Jenny's eyes suddenly well with tears, more in shock at the roaring level to which you just raised your voice, and you actually start to feel legitimate sorrow for what you just said to this girl that, despite being nearly eye level with you, is three years younger.  But no apology is said.  You have your pride.

“You can say anything you want to me, little bro,” says Carly, bringing you back to reality, her face twisting into another frown.  “Well, not anymore you can’t.  But you REALLY, can NOT, EVER talk to my friends like that again!  We’re only fourteen, but we’re women, and it’s time you started treating all of us a little better.  What you yelled at her… Jenny should have sat on you for longer.  I mean, if Jenny was here right now, and could see you like this, I’d gladly hand you over to her.  She’d pop your stupid little body right under her butt…”

                Suddenly, you begin to tremble in your sister’s cold toe cleavage, actually going into legitimate, uncontrollable convulsions, still hopelessly trapped in the guillotine of dry foot skin.  This isn’t… She can’t mean…

                “…Jenny’s not here, though, so I guess we’ll have to make do with mine instead.”