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------ Chapter 15 ------

          Her hands scooped my naked body up, up, up. Her body was draped in towels, and she held me to her bosom and cradled me crooked in one arm. Alison’s free hand grabbed the pedicure kit as she left the bathroom.

          My sister’s bare wet footfalls thundered as she walked, the sound reverberating off the hallway walls, accentuating her massive weight. She walked past the doorway to my bedroom and entered her own room, shutting the massive bulkhead of a door behind her.

          Alison’s room was sporty, with a few feminine items scattered throughout. Posters of large, muscular female athletes adorned the walls. There was a jewelry box the size of a couch on top of a dresser as large as a house. A few stuffed animals, each as big as I was, lay on the pink carpeted floor. In the far corner was an impressive weight set, with dumbbells and a bench press. The numbers on the plates looked quite big.

          She deposited me on her bed, before turning over to her closet and dropping her towels. Briefly, I caught sight of her naked backside before shielding my eyes. Alison rummaged through her closet and pulled on a tight-fitting neon green spaghetti strap stank top and some sporty, black shorty shorts. She turned to me and pounced on the bed.

          The weight of her body slamming into the bed nearly caused me to flip off the edge. It was like the game “Popcorn” on a trampoline. Alison reclined on her bed, grabbed the pedicure kit and dropped it in front of me.

           “All right slave. Do my feet.” She chirped as she deposited one large foot in my naked lap. Her light pink painted toes wiggled. I could see miniscule chips forming in the polish. Alison tilted the pedicure kit over so I could access the contents. Amazingly, every tool had small handholds built into them so tiny men could use them.

          I pulled out a file the size of a longsword and gripped the handle.  I could wield it one handed, and I waved it about in the air, testing the weight. Dropping into a fighting stance, I tapped Alison’s foot with the “blade” and hopped to one side, holding the file en garde.

          “Die, vile foot monster!”  I laughed, playing around.

          Alison frowned and raised her foot in the air menacingly. “Get to work, before I stomp you into the dirt.” My gargantuan sister wasn’t having any of it.

          I dropped the file and pulled out some clippers the size of hedge trimmers, an emery board, big foam toe separators, cotton balls and a bottle of polish remover. Alison dropped a bottle of black nail polish near me as I got to work.

          Working diligently, I doused huge cotton balls in nail polish remover and began scrubbing each individual toe. It took about fifteen minutes, but eventually I got all her toes clean. Alison actually had pretty perfect feet, with nice square nails and smooth skin. With the foam toe separators put in place, I uncapped the bottle of jet black nail polish and began placing strokes on her nails. I covered each nail carefully, glancing up at my sister every so often. The gargantuan woman hardly paid me any attention as I worked. She was reading a sports magazine with a muscular female football player on the cover, flipping the pages and sighing every so often. I could detect a hint of jealousy in her tone.

          Alison spotted me and flipped the magazine around. “Wouldn’t it be great if I was as big as her?” she exclaimed in a frustrated manner.

           I examined the picture. A large, beautiful blonde athlete was featured in the article Alison was reading. She looked like a sprinter of some sort, and judging by the scale was probably about 20 feet tall, which was about the same height as Alison. However, the thing that struck me the most about this professional athlete was her exaggerated musculature. The thickness of her thighs was absolutely shocking. I had never seen a woman so strong looking.

           Frowning in a huff, Alison pulled her magazine back. “I’m not even growing any taller, and my weight training is plateauing. At this rate I’ll never get bigger.”

          “You’re plenty big to me.” I tried to offer condolences.

          She scoffed. “You little men are so lucky. You never have to worry about height, or size. You never have to deal with the pressure of measuring up to other women.”

           I felt like shooting something back about how I had no rights or freedom at ALL, and how there was no truly comparison between her situation and mine, but I thought better of it. As a woman, she wouldn’t listen or understand anyway, so I saved my breath. I simply went back to her toes.

           Alison frowned and flexed her bicep, inspecting it. It formed up into a tight ball, and in my opinion it looked very impressive. She was clearly quite well built and athletic, maybe getting even a little on the “muscular” side. She was certainly far bigger than I remembered her in my old world. My sister however, was clearly quite dissatisfied with it. I thought back to the old reality, where many women struggled with weight and body image issues. While the parameters of what constituted beauty and desirability had changed in this reality, women’s dissatisfaction with their own bodies certainly had not.  If my previous experiences were anything to judge, the female body obsession seemed even worse here, to the point where it was the driving force behind nearly everything in society.

          I finished her toes, fanning the polish slightly so it would dry faster. I thought I had done a pretty good job, so I tapped the soft skin on the top of her foot to get her attention. Alison put down her magazine, inspected my work, and concluded that I was done. Her solid hand wrapped around my waist, and she lifted me off of her bed and set me down on the carpet. She opened her bedroom door and dismissed me, saying that she didn’t need me anymore and that I was free to go. As she shut the door I heard her walk over to her weight set to begin training.

           I left her bedroom and wandered about in the hallway, gazing up at the high vaulted ceiling that looked so alien now. Because the scale of my house was so enlarged it completely threw off my perspective, making everything seem strange and new. Reaching a hand out, I touched the wall next to me. All the details of the drywall seemed to pop out, the texture of the paint, the minor divots and cracks that I otherwise would have missed. Being a small person in this new world was certainly a different sensory experience.

           I had almost made it my own bedroom when I heard my mother’s footsteps coming up the stairs. It was strange, but I could tell by the pace, vibrations and sound that she was tired and getting ready for bed. It was just something I could pick up on, like I could “feel” her mood as she walked.

          Thoom… thoom… thoom…  Her red nailed toes approached me, stopping just as it seemed she was about to step on me. With a massive foot on either side of me, I could tell the effect was to corner me. I could tell she wanted to talk to me about something serious.

            My towering mother gazed down at me, her face peeking over her bust line. “Dean honey, I need to talk to you about something before you go to bed tonight. Would you be a dear and wait for me in my room while I get ready?”

          I didn’t really want to, but I felt like complying would please her. “I’ll wait for you,” I replied obediently, heading over to her room. Once inside it, I sat on the carpet patiently and listened to the sounds of her getting ready for bed. She brushed her teeth and threw on a pink silk nightgown before coming back.

           Colossal footsteps announced her return, and as she came up to me she smiled warmly. A mischievous and excited look then crossed her face.

          “Let’s play Monster Mommy!” she suddenly exclaimed.

           I shot her a surprised and quizzical look. “No, let’s not!” I didn’t like the sound of this game.

           “Oh, it’ll be fun! Like when you were a little kid… and look, you’re still pretty little!” she smiled mischievously and began playing.

          Her face contorted into a snarl, and she growled. She hunched forward and held her arms out like a gunslinger, making herself appear even wider and larger. The woman lifted and stomped her feet like a sumo wrestler. The shockwaves shot through the floor, scaring me. I stood quickly.

           “Monster Mommy is going to step on you, little man!” She raised one foot in the air, in an exaggerated pose. “She is soooo angry and displeased!”

           I squeaked in terror and bolted as her gargantuan foot forcefully slammed down behind me. What the hell was she thinking!?

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