She didn’t say that.  She didn’t say that.  Your little sister did not just say she was going to sit on you.  She couldn’t have.  Did she?

                Good God.

                You look horrified at your sister.  She’s thoroughly enjoying your reaction, soaking it in wordlessly, gaining immense pleasure from the abject terror now filling your mind.  She didn’t say that.  She didn’t.

                SHIT.

                You try to calm your raging subconscious.  As usual, it fails.  Your brain starts screaming at you to fight back.  You almost consider it, and try to shift your sides a little, but this only results in a somewhat painful scrape from Carly’s griddled big toe, which still has you firmly in place.

                “You’re such a jerk to me, Jack.  But that’s okay.  I can take it.”

                Mentally, you beg to differ.

                “I can take what you dish out at me.  But Jenny is my friend.  We were just having some fun.  We were just getting you back for what you did to me at the campsite last summer.  And you yelled at her like the gigantic meanie you are, when it was really me that did it.  So guess what, little bro?”

                You shiver.  It’s all you can do right now.

                “I’m going to make you remember why you can’t treat me or any other woman like that.  You CAN’T.  You don’t have the RIGHT to TALK to us like that!” cries out Carly passionately, clearly very involved in this whole apparent misogyny trip of yours.  Her voice almost cracks with how much emotion she has in that idea. 

Sweet Jesus.  She seems truly offended by your treatment of her friend.  She can’t even keep herself cool and collected while talking about the lesson to be learned like last time.  She actually is so legitimately caught up in defending womankind, she’s falling apart.

                This CANNOT be good for you or your survival chances.

                “CARLY!” you scream out.  Better get to work, the clock is running out for your possible argument time.  As it is, you have serious doubts you’ll be able to affect your fate, but you have got to try anyway.   It’s the only thing left.  “PLEASE.  Listen to me.  I… said things I shouldn’t have.  I do like women!  I respect women!  I’ll apologize to your friend, I never really meant what I said…” you yell out pleadingly, your brain literally starting to get high from fear.  You get a little woozy, your words trailing off.  So much for your dignity.

                “Shut up, Jack.”

                “But, please, Carly, just listen…”

                “Jack, shut up right now, or I’ll make sure you can’t get back up after I do it.”

                Mentally, you note the very high likelihood that you won’t be able to get up, anyway, even if she went as softly as possible.  You say a little prayer in your mind, keeping silent.  Carly nods.

                “Good.  Just keep your mouth shut a little more often, bro, and maybe it won’t hurt as much when I have to teach you manners,” she says, and suddenly her hand is reaching for you, her toes parting.  For a millisecond, you ponder the possibility of quickly leaping down the backside of her foot with her toe grip loosened and dashing.  But then you remember you’re on a bed.  There’s nowhere to run.

                Carly bunches her fingers up around your chest, lifting you up from that point.  It feels tremendously uncomfortable, and with nothing holding your limbs up, you get a huge butterfly in your stomach effect as you look below your helmet of finger flesh surrounding your gaze and below, watching as Carly’s hand travels inches above her long and muscular legs, back up to her face.  She parts her pointer finger and thumb, still holding you tightly around the chest with her other fingers, but ensuring you can see her face through the opening.  Her face is very stern, once again.

                “Jack, I want you to think about yourself.  I want you to think about how you treat women.  We aren’t THINGS you can just yell at, or push, or trip, or cuss at whenever you want.  We’re PEOPLE.  And as soon as you learn to treat us like people, and start listening to what I’ve been saying to you, then I won’t have to keep trying to teach you like this.  Does that make sense?  Don’t talk…” she adds quietly and seriously, leaning her head forward.  You nod sheepishly, with no other options at this point, your body shivering in fearful anticipation.  She nods back at you, confidently.

                “Good.  Now hold still.  If I feel you trying to get out, I’ll put you back down there for twice as long as before,” she adds, the evil grin finally cracking through the look of seriousness.

                Your shivering picks up.  She’s about to do it.  Your little sister is about to sit on you with her thirty foot long, cotton white short-clad, thousand ton ass.  Carly tilts her head, clearly feeling you shaking in her fingers.

                “It’s okay, little bro, there’s no need to be scared.  I’ll do my best not to fart on you…” she says with a gleeful laugh, and with that you’re being shaken around as she stands up off the bed.  You go down onto the cushiony bedspread with a hard smack, the fabric caving in slightly as you go into a laying down position.  You know there would be no point in running now, either, but at this point you honestly doubt you could convince your legs to move, so frozen are you.  Your gaze falls upward.  Carly, her back to you now, looks over her shoulder, down at you, then slowly starts to bend at the knee.

                You see the absolutely massive wall of white cotton folding downward.  A shadow suddenly is cast, covering you in faded darkness as your sister’s butt nears your helpless body.  You feel the mattress go down a little as Carly leans her legs into the edge of the mattress, getting leverage.  She plants her hands on either side, her palms flexing back to support herself for balance.  You look up one final time, her massive, white-clad ass in touching distance of you.  You look up straight at her, a pleading look in your eyes.  But all you see is her gleeful, toothy grin, the laugh wrinkles around her eyes creased.  Raising one hand, she regally waves at you, rippling her fingers slowly in a wave, and then suddenly everything disappears.

                What happens next is, to you, the equivalent of having a sumo wrestler swan dive off a rooftop, straight onto you.  The white fabric wall descends on you with speed, smacking you down into the cloth of the sheets, burying you alive inside them.  The absolute, all-consuming weight of your sister bears down on your helpless form ruthlessly.  You just know that any moment now, your bones will start cracking like twigs hit by a wrecking ball.  You’re really going to “pop” like she (you hope) jokingly threatened.

                As her cloth-clad cheeks press down on you, you can feel the slight give of her cheek flesh through the fabric.  After pushing down on you, jiggling ever so slightly (despite your sister’s state of fitness, at this size and proximity, you are able to distinguish the slightest of movements, rippling practically across your face).  As she slowly continues sitting down, though, you suddenly feel hardness pressing into your body all over, her powerful gluts flexing, working down onto you with incredible force, even though you aren’t in direct contact.

                You lean your head back, sucking air in as hard as you can.  Behind you, you see the smallest creeping light from outside from down the sloped hill of the smashed in bed sheet and underneath the endless, inverted field of cotton-clad, muscular ass cheek flesh.  You try to slow your breathing, your heart fluttering faster and faster, nearly causing you to hyperventilate.  Just breathe, you try to tell yourself.  Just breathe.  Breathe.

                Your sister is about to crush you like a jelly bean under her butt, whispers your subconscious.

                You push this from your mind as much as you can, closing your eyes, breathing slowly.  All around you, you feel the rough, shifting fabric rubbing across your body as Carly moves into a more comfortable position.  Finally, you feel an indent forming over yourself, some of the pressure relieving, although it still presses down slightly on you.  You realize that you’re directly under Carly’s butt crack, and you thank your lucky stars that your sister is wearing pants.

                Not that there are many things to thank your lucky stars for at this moment…

                With you safely in the space, centered directly below Carly’s butt cheeks, she begins to flex them, pulling them together with incredible, bulldozer-like force, smushing you lightly between them, deeper into the cushy ground of the bedsheet.  So close are you to it, you can literally feel like you can distinguish muscle fibers in Carly’s gluts pulsing together, working like a machine, methodically mashing you into a useless pulp.

                You can’t be certain how much time has passed.  A while ago, you heard faint, static-lined voices, which was at first confusing until you realized Carly was watching the TV you have near the end of your bed.  So little sound or light can get in under the small crevice Carly left between the back of her shorts-covered ass and the sheet, but you think that, for the second time now, you hear the ending credits music for a Gossip Girl rerun.  Second time that you were able to clearly distinguish, anyway.

                So, logically, you’ve been camping precariously, unable to move, powerless, able to die with a simple muscle shift, under the gigantic ass of your younger sister for two hours, possibly more since you’re pretty sure you heard the ending credits of some other show earlier that you can’t identify.

                About a dozen times or so in the last couple hours, you feel Carly’s muscular cheeks compress inward slowly, pinching you.  This is what causes the greatest pain, re-applying the unbelievably massive amount of pressure of most of your sister’s body weight onto your helpless body.  Out of response, your body jitters in pain as she squeezes her crack together above you.  You presume this is so she can feel you moving around, to ensure she hasn’t mashed you into a bloody stain.

You push upward with your forearms, hoping to create some more room for yourself.  You can push into the cottony covering over your sister’s cheek flesh for a moment, but it’s far too sturdy and thick to do for long.  Exhausted, you feel yourself sweating a storm in this steamy, compressed, claustrophobic space.  Your breathing hasn’t really slowed at all, keeping your heart rate at a level as if you were going for a brisk jog.

As with every terrible and mind-crushing experience you’ve gone through thus far, there’s a scent with it, so you can always connect these ideas to each other in the inevitable painful flashbacks you have later in your life (if there is a later).  Convenient.

The powdery Downy wafts around you, enclosing you in the chemical and flowery haze, causing your eyes to slowly water.  Through the shorts, though, you can smell the sweet, fruity cheeks of your sister from her recent washing with her women’s bath soap brand.  Despite how terrified you are at this moment, you reflect on the fact that this could have been worse had your sister not showered prior to this teaching.  Your nose twitches to imagine the smells that would have come from the cold, dried sweat coating Carly’s shorts, the muddy rank creeping from off her ass she’d no doubt been sitting on all morning to do the yard work.

The waiting continues, your body becoming drenched in your sweat.  It’s at least a welcome change to be drenched in your own sweat this time, instead of having it imported directly from your sister’s porous toe flesh.  You hear another credits sequence end.  Three hours now, at least.  You’re getting very tired just laying here, your energy being quickly expended with your sister’s simple action of sitting right on top of you, trapping you in the space right below her ass crack on your own bed.  You might as well have just run a mini, and you’re not even moving a muscle.  You can’t, in fact; you’re wedged so powerfully between the thin bed sheet and Carly’s omnipotent, tank-like gluts, you really don’t need to even try to hold up any part of yourself, besides your forearms (being the only thing you can move, although you’ve already found this to be useless).  Your stomach continues to gnaw violently at you, roaring loudly for food that you don’t have to give to it.

You think you must have nodded off for a bit, at least halfway, because without warning sunlight is streaming into your eyes, the sweltering sweatbox underneath Carly’s butt flying upward into the air, allowing cool air to flow over you.  You’re so damp with sweat, so compressed into the bed spread, and so unbelievably tired, you just sit there, panting, drinking in the fresh air like you can’t get enough.

You survived.  Somehow.

Carly turns around to face you, at full height, her chin tilted down to look at you.  She smiles cutely and arches her back over, her arm reaching out, her fingers curled ever so slightly, expectantly awaiting you being clutched powerlessly between them without objection.

“Jenny’s not sounding so bad anymore, is she, little bro?” she laughs slyly, wrapping her smooth, cold fingers around your motionless, overheated body.