Carly’s chest heaved steadily as she finally caught her breath from the jog, her taut and form-flattering running shirt melded to her skin by dampness. Her exposed stomach, though soft, curved just enough as though carved by a master sculptor, or more accurately, by a hell of a lot of crunches in the college’s gym for off-season basketball training. As a freshman with the prospect some actual time on the court in the spring, she had made it almost a sacred duty to mold herself into an athletic force to be reckoned with before meeting the true proving grounds.
Kicking off her well-worn shoes by the dresser, she nudged a recently dog-eared Psych 101 textbook back under the bed with the heel of her socked foot. A moment later she had the underwear wrenched open and the object of her greatest joy back in her grip.
Between the possessively curled fingers was her older brother Jack: right where she liked him. His little naked body was squeezed on every inch against the clammy skin of his titanic sibling’s appendage, his abused member wedged gently between two of her firm fingers.
It hadn’t taken Carly more than a few seconds after returning to her bedroom from her ninety-minute jog around the campus and nearby track course to retrieve him. The girl hadn’t taken him out to play in more than eight hours, since before morning classes, and she could tell he was groggy as his eyes adjusted to the light. She sauntered across the carpet and flopped onto her bed, stretching her bare legs across the sheets. Finally the teen reached toward the end of the mattress and released her fingers, setting Jack onto the cushioned surface.
He turned immediately to face the towering feet: the bane of his being. The wrinkled soles, pink as usual, were made rosier from the pounding pressure of Carly’s run. Her toes, so high above his three-inch frame, wriggled delightedly in the open air, cooling themselves. The pair looked even more exerted than usual, and that was saying something. His sibling took her workouts seriously.
Jack’s gaze next met the tanned and glistening pillars that were his younger sister’s hardworking limbs, her toned calves slightly swollen from their recent efforts, and most of her skin from her thighs to the balls of her feet was frosted with a glistening layer of vigorously earned sweat like dew on early morning grass.
Of course, dew tended to smell a little more bearable, and Jack hadn’t been cowering at the end of his owner’s bed for more than a matter of seconds before her stench impaled his olfactory senses. Sour flavors flooded the space and in turn his lungs, reeking of sopping cotton, starchy grass stains, and greasy skin. A combination of effluvium that could only originate from his sibling’s sweaty feet. Even if God finally intervened, rescued him from this torment, and allowed him to live in peace and solitude for one hundred years, Jack knew the imprint of this wretched odor he’d been experiencing for so long would live in his mind for the rest of his days. He gagged hard, unable to hold back.
“Well, little bro,” she sighed as she enjoyed his tortured reaction to her musk, releasing an exhausted puff of air and lapping at her parched lips. Carly tilted her head to the side, allowing her dirty blonde ponytail to slide over her shoulders. Her blue eyes sparkled, as though she was hiding a secret she had no intention of sharing. “I’ve got a fun game for you to play today.”
Nodding numbly, Jack took a few tentative steps closer to the monument of his little sister’s disgusting, moist left foot. He didn’t like it, but there was very little of his life in the hands of his cruel sibling he actually “liked,” and he knew from experience that it was always in his best interest to obey her orders as quick as possible. Holding his breath as he’d learned to do so well over time, he lifted his hands, preparing to press them into the doughy wall of sticky skin for the massage he was almost certain she was about to command that he provide.
“Hey, you eager beaver, you didn’t even hear what the game is yet!” Carly pouted with a false frown, though she couldn’t hide her grin at his immediate reaction to please her. “I said it would be fun for you, didn’t I?”
This was new. Carly infrequently was concerned about whether or not her tiny brother was having fun, let alone whether or not he was safe during their games. It probably wasn’t a good sign. Jack paused, lowering his arms, and waited with a pounding heart.
“Well, obviously it’ll be kinda fun for me too, but… just stay there,” the towering college student said, pausing for emphasis. “And play with your little micro dick for me.”
Jack flinched, not so much out of fear now but simply surprise. Out of all the horrible things his sister had made him do in her clutches, this was among the tamest things she’d ever requested. Pride and privacy had long ago been forgotten, after all. What was the catch?
Uncertain, he cradled his genitals for a moment and began to stroke, shutting his eyes after a few seconds of it to help stay focused in the face of those spongy walls before him.
“No,” Carly snapped softly. “Eyes open. Look at my foot while you do it.”
Nodding with expectant resignation, Jack looked up at the squishy, peach-toned wall of Carly’s foot as he continued jerking himself. His gaze drifted up from her thick heel, along her slender instep, through the rivets of her sole wrinkles, and up to the rounded ball of her foot.
The longer he stared, the scent started to drift back into his consciousness, fuller and more nauseating than ever. He tried unsuccessfully to filter his breaths, but it was difficult while standing this close to the source of the rancid-scented flesh, and trying to hold it in completely made it hard to focus on pumping himself. It was a kind of paradoxical multi-tasking no human being was meant to attempt.
“Faster now,” the gigantic girl instructed calmly. “Make it bigger faster than that, or I’m going to wear you for my run tomorrow.”
That was all the extra motivation Jack needed. The desperation and adrenaline-induced fear of being trapped under his sister’s enormous foot as she slammed onto his body over and over in her shoes was more than enough to overcome his revulsion at the smell of her pestilential sweat. He stroked with greater intensity, to the giggling delight of his sibling, and less than a minute later, he shuddered down to his knees and released his miniscule load onto the sheets, which didn’t even register as a stain on the massive surface.
“Good boy,” Carly said happily, then slid her legs to the side of the bed, stepping off the mattress and rising up again. “That’s all the game for now, little bro.”
Jack, still catching his breath, looked up in surprise at how quickly this even had resolved itself. He’d been expecting the massage to come immediately after he’d finished emasculating himself in front of her foot, yet she didn’t seem to have planned such a thing. Instead, he found himself balled into a gentle fist as Carly carried him back to her dresser and deposited him back inside.
Shrugging, the prisoner cozied himself back under a pair of clean violet panties.
The next day, Jack was snatched up from the safety of the dark underwear drawer again, and Carly had clearly just returned from another jog, as her breaths were still short and there appeared a liquid sheen on her stomach and chest. He was brought back to the bed and plopped right back where he’d found himself yesterday, staring up at the grinning face of his sister between the two sweat-soaked pillars of her feet. Glancing at the flower-decorated digital clock next to his sister’s bed, he realized it was almost exactly the same time as well.
“Lay down,” she whispered pointedly. “On your back.”
Bowing his head anxiously, Jack quickly flattened himself into the buoyant surface of the bed and waited. Sure enough, Carly’s foot began to arch downward a moment later, moving slowly for dramatic effect as her squirming toes loomed over him. As the wet digits reached their target and curled over him, hugging Jack against the warm foot, her big and second toes parted and pinched around his head, forcing her brother’s face deeply into the soggy crevice of flesh.
This was much more familiar to him than the previous day. In a way, it was almost comforting to be returned to a norm.
Almost.
As he gasped for air, the stench became so excruciatingly vigorous, the three-inch boy could practically feel a heavy drop of the stinging, salty sweat cascading down his throat and burning like rubbing alcohol as he unwillingly swallowed it. It certainly wasn’t a difficult image for his mind to take hold of, as Carly had made him experience this sensation many times before.
He coughed repeatedly, hopelessly struggling for oxygen as his sibling’s monstrous toes consumed his entire head between them. His body was immobilized as Carly’s foot mashed firmly down into the sheets.
“Just relax, little bro. Breathe,” Carly said, kinder than she normally sounded. “And rub your little baby penis again.”
Wincing, Jack wormed his hand down to his crotch and gripped his member, awkward as it was with his sister’s naked toes pinching around it as well. He took a deep breath and set about thrusting into his fist; remembering his sister’s threat from yesterday, he did it with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, in spite of his wet and claustrophobic surroundings.
The longer he worked, the more Carly’s toes seemed to hug his head between her toes. The bulbous flesh was caressed ceaselessly against his lips, but the worst of it was the impossibility of a clean breath. Yesterday he’d at least had a few inches of buffer zone, but now his nose was literally buried in the creamy skin, receiving the vile, balmy bitterness with every terrible inhalation. It was as though the smell were flowing from the teen’s pores and infusing directly into his skull: alive of its own diseased accord.
Hacking painfully the entire way, after several awkward minutes he managed to meekly climax against his sister’s writhing, sweat-lubricated toes. The foot slid away as soon as he’d finished, and its victim was left gasping for atmosphere untainted by his sister’s spoiled stench.
“Good boy,” Carly said as she had before, scooping Jack into her palm and delivering him back to the dresser without another word. He was left in the familiar darkness, more unnerved than before, as he realized just how much of her putrescent must had clung to his skin.
It took fifteen straight days of the humiliating sexual torment before Jack finally learned to instigate it himself. Like clockwork, his colossal sister just had to smile that domineering smile of hers and he knew to latch a hand around his limp junk and get to work for her amusement.
Of course, Carly found ways to ensure she was always part of the perverse fun. Her foot was never far from the action as Jack pumped himself into a heaving oblivion.
After a week of the act, she stretched herself out on her stomach, upturning her unholy soles, and plastered her brother’s quivering body onto the curve on the ball of her foot before commanding him to press his face into the skin and jerk. It proved easier to concentrate, given that firmer flesh on this hill of her appendage wasn’t quite as absorbent of her sweat. Still, Carly ensured to make up for this by bouncing her foot slowly against the bed, thrusting her brother’s tiny body against the clay-like terrain of her skin each time.
The next day, Jack was forced to lie down on his back and watch as Carly’s enormous heel hovered above him before lowering itself on him with just enough of a relent in the pressure that he could grip his dick. Even then, he could feel practically the entire weight of the girl’s leg focused onto his body, poised to squash him out of existence if she accidentally let her heel drop just a little further. Dwarfing him so hilariously, the slick curve of her heel was another terrifying warning for him to masturbate as fast as possible, despite the looming threat of crushing.
The girl’s creativity seemed to drive her to find new ways each day to deprive Jack of more oxygen and concentrate his source of breath exclusively in the fusty, swollen odor emanating from her feet.
On day eighteen, positioning her brother idly between her legs, Carly reared her feet up and then drove them together. Before Jack could react she had clapped both soles into a foot-sandwich with her hapless little nude sibling as the only filling.
Entombed between the two walls of rank, squishy skin, there was no hope of even the slightest circulation of air. Every breath was recycled the aroma of acrid skin and toejam. Carly’s feet mercilessly ground together, stroking her brother up and down the length of her insteps and grinding his nose along each and every soggy wrinkle, never giving his nose a chance to turn toward the light for release. It only took a few passes for his body to be so thoroughly soaked in her salty transudate that she could bounce him between the thick pads of her soles like a ball. Still, through this sickening roller coaster, Jack had to keep his hands cupped around his member, unwillingly tugging it to life. And on top of all that, he had to listen to his humongous captor moaning dramatically with relief as she used his body to massage her aching peds.
The rawness of her foot odor was a constant no matter the game, unchanging and never any easier to breathe in, no matter how much mental preparation went in before the tiny boy was placed before them. Yet she always demanded he take it regardless, sometimes even coaching him on when to inhale and exhale. At the height of each breath, at Jack’s only chance to refill his lungs, she’d squeeze his face into her skin, making her scent his entire world in that bleak instant.
Indeed, every pitiful gasp as Jack fought for increasingly embarrassing orgasms was the very mist of Carly’s sweat, sticky and scathing against his throat. Thanks to the dedication the girl put into staying fit, her hulking feet were an infinite supply of the kind of filthy, ungodly flavors that could’ve ignited chemical warfare if in great enough supply. Every day turned into a monotonous parade of being lovingly squashed, and nearly suffocated under Carly’s toes while working hard to bring himself to a highly unlikely climax against the overbearing obstacle of her repugnant odor.
“Good boy.” Those two words acted like a bell to conclude the day’s activity as Jack finally managed to finish before the altar of his sweaty goddess
The thirtieth day of the repetitive but no less revolting act came without Jack even realizing, as the drug-like haze of his sister’s sweaty redolence had long ago rendered him incapable of keeping time. Even though she had run for a little longer today, her miniature slave couldn’t have noticed. Just like every other day, the overworked girl reclined on her bed and set Jack by her upturned feet, sighing with relaxation as her miniscule brother stared up at his cruel instructor.
Having worked himself into a state of neutral acceptance of his daily task, Jack took hold of his flaccid member out of automatic habit.
“No,” Carly’s voice boomed from above, startling her waiting audience. “Don’t touch it.”
There was a flinch. Incredibly anxious now about a change in the corrupting routine, Jack complied immediately nonetheless, letting go of his dick and allowing his arms to fall to the sides. He tried to ignore the feeling of his stomach churning in continuous circles.
“Now come closer,” she ordered delicately. The toes of her left foot scrunched, wrinkling her expansive sole and acting as a beacon to follow. Jack obediently neared the towering wall of dank foot flesh, painted as ever in the glistening, salty rewards from her run from toe to heel. As her digits tweaked together above, a single droplet trickled its way down the curved valley of her pink sole and plunked onto the bedspread.
“Closer,” she said. “Put your face on it.”
Gulping, the tiny boy took one final step, until his nose touched the tender, slimy surface.
“Breathe,” she whispered throatily.
This was nothing new. In spite of the horrid rewards awaiting his senses, Jack almost felt relief to be ordered to do something so trivial for her. He did just that, inhaling slowly, and allowing the putrid miasma of the sickly pungency to leak through his pained orifices.
“Breathe harder,” Carly murmured. “Deep. Until all you’re breathing is me.”
Fighting back an instinctive whimper at the thought of experiencing the scent any more potently, Jack’s fear of being stuffed into a sock for Carly’s next run convinced him to press his nose even harder against her doughy sole flesh. Exhaling heavily in readiness for maximum sampling, he sniffed with every bit of strength he had left in his lungs.
Instantly his senses soaked up the damning nuances of abhorrently spicy flavors hidden in her tan skin: the rubbery insole of her shoes, a few flecks of dirt, the omnipresent aura of her briny sweat seeping into everything it touched. It inflated his skull, poisoning every nerve ending.
Jack fell backward as though he’d been dealt a knockout blow. He was hopelessly dizzy from the absolute cocktail of horror melting itself into his brain. It felt like that scent was never going to unglue itself from nostrils and throat, as though he’d just chugged a liquid concentration of the odor itself. His stomach thrashed violently, tempting him to become sick, but with a hearty gag, he managed to pull through in one piece and start to reconnect with his other senses.
And that was when he felt it. An undeniable warmth, traveling of its own devices through his body and pinpointing on his crotch, until a pleasurable tingling took over and started a chain reaction that Jack refused to believe was happening even as he watched it occur with his very eyes.
No.
No, it couldn’t be.
He wasn’t…
Carly leaned forward across the bed, her blue eyes aglow and her soft lips parted in utter shock and ecstatic joy as she watched her sprawling three-inch-tall brother’s member stiffening into an erection after absolutely no physical contact.
“No way,” the college freshman breathed in awe, her mouth still agape. “I can’t believe it worked.” The absolute power of the moment crackled in her gorgeous irises. Her tongue lapped at the corner of her lip.
Jack had barely started to piece the puzzle together when he realized his sister’s foot was tipping downward again, her toes parting to receive him. He was far too numbed to even flinch as the meaty big and second toes clamped around his helpless head, mashing his orifices into her repulsive flesh.
“Keep breathing,” Carly ordered, her voice cracking with triumphant giggling. “Don’t stop, little bro. Keep breathing me in. And don’t you dare touch your dick.”
Jack could hardly remember his sister sounding as happy as did at this moment, though there wasn’t much he could make out clearly as her toes writhed about, thrusting his face with continual ferocity into the slimy crevice to ensure every breath contained only the essence of her foot’s filthiest function.
And then at last it hit him, though he desperately wished he could forget it.
She’d conditioned him like some kind of science project. Like a dog. Put him through the same regimented orders every day, training his subconscious to bend to her desires, no matter how much he hated what she was doing to him.
She’d actually programmed his body to become aroused at the smell of vile odor: to not only become accustomed to pleasure in its hazy midst, but to crave her satanic sweat in every breath of air.
Jack had never wanted to throw up more in his life. Huffing as his mind struggled to fend off an emotional breakdown, he grappled with the concept while preventing himself from getting whiplash as Carly’s squirming toes wrestled him about.
He tried to focus on something else. Anything. He had to regain control of his body before his sister fully assumed control of it with her psychotic game. He could not allow this to happen. He had to resist.
More revolted even than he was by the sweaty air, Jack felt the nausea returning as he realized his efforts were for naught. Even with his hands pulled away, his member was still growing larger by the second as Carly forced him to experience her miasmic essence.
“Don’t fight it, little bro,” Carly instructed sweetly, obviously enraptured by what was happening like nothing else in her life. “Give in. You know you want to. You know it feels good.”
No. No. No!
“You know you like the smell,” she whispered victoriously. Her mammoth toes gave her brother’s head a final squeeze that injected a last airborne shot of her vicious musk down his throat, and that was all that remained.
Jack cried out in anguish and horror as his body spasmed in the grip of his sister’s toes, his fully erect member ejaculating the most humiliating load in the history of mankind. Totally spent and devoid of the desire to go on, he slumped immediately, giving up his body like a three-inch ragdoll to Carly’s foot as she released him at last.
He kept his eyes shut as tears poured down them in utter shame that made him wish more than anything that he could simply pull a blanket of darkness over himself and hide from the rest of sentient life forever.
Of course, he couldn’t. He was still his sister’s toy. Her object to twist in every way she saw fit, from his weary body to his tortured mind. And now she had an all-new way to play with him.
Carly’s finger alighted on her brother’s stomach as he shuddered, stroking him gently from neck to crotch. She knew this wondrous effect couldn’t last forever, not without keeping up this rigorous schedule, which was nigh-impossible, given all the future games they had to look forward to. Better than anything, though, was the simple fact that she’d proved it once, and that was all that was necessary.
He was hers. All of him.
Even his subconscious belonged to her now, and he’d admitted it in the most emphatic and truthful way his poor little body was capable of, beyond the necessity of words. She couldn’t imagine a better gift.
“Good boy,” Carly sighed contentedly.