“Yeah, girly, just come on up when you get here.  The garage door’s unlocked and I’m just hanging in my room.  What?  Yeah, with Scott.  No, he’s not in my shoe,” Maggie said with playfully false indignity into her cell phone, reclining on her bed, while her other hand hovered over her stomach and brandished the nude inch-tall form of Scott by his sides between her firm thumb and index finger.  Her eyes remained unblinkingly glued to him in observation despite her focus on the conversation.  “God, what kind of sister do you think I am, Libs?  Yeah.  Yeah, I know.  Okay, I’ll see ya in a couple.”

            Tapping the screen of her phone with a shrug, Maggie let the device slide from her palm and onto the comforter of her bed, and with a grin spreading over her soft lips, her attention returned fully to her sibling, who stood at a fragile stature half the height of her thumb.

            “Can you believe her?” the girl queried with a disbelieving shake of her head and a little giggle as she extended the pointer finger of her newly freed hand, slowly approaching the immobilized form of her bare brother.  “She just thinks you live in my shoes, I guess.”

            Scott hardly reacted as Maggie’s fingertip gently met his body and began to stroke with a tiny flick of her digit from his chest to his stomach with a motion that would’ve barely tickled a normally proportioned human being but acted as more of a massage to the incapacitated young man.  It wasn’t that it didn’t register as contact, or even necessarily feel bad on his ravaged form, but he was far too close to the brink of despondency at the moment to sum up the desire to respond.

            He was slaked with the gummy dried remnants of his sister’s saliva over every last inch of his body, in some places thicker than others, the pale blobs of the thicker mucus-lined sputum even still evident in certain places.  His hair was matted down in a disgusting sticky film.  His eyes were empty, blinded by the light after having spent the better part of what he eventually gathered to be forty-five minutes inside the pitch-black hovel of Maggie’s mouth.  His lips could only quiver nervously, his mind still too haunted by the sensations he’d been put through on that seemingly eternal roller coaster atop the teen’s worming, curious tongue.

            “Don’t look so sad, Scotty,” Maggie encouraged with disarming sweetness in her tone as she continued lovingly caressing her brother’s abdomen with the tip of her finger.  “Your favorite one of my friends is coming up to see you.  She’ll give you a nice little break.  You know she will.”

            Scott managed a nod, but that was all.  He was indeed relieved that it was Libby coming up to visit.  In fact, his current appearance of spit-slogged debasement would probably prompt the girl to cradle him in her warm palm and defend him even more ferociously to Maggie, who no-doubt would descend into unstoppable giggles even as she willingly passed over her human chewing gum.

            It didn’t really matter who was coming. A mythical angel of mercy could’ve been on the way up the stairs to carry him away to a lifetime on a beach where he’d never have to hear from his family ever again.  It was irrelevant.  She’d won already.

            Maggie had gotten everything she wanted, more than she’d ever hinted at desiring.  At this point, he was quite certain she could give him that bath she’d been threatening and he wouldn’t even have to bat an eye.  Not after what he’d gone through.  He’d stripped in her hand.  He’d done it without a single complaint and even agreed to do it himself.  He’d gone in her mouth where her tongue had explored every nook and cranny of his body.

            “Hey, now,” the sixteen-year-old cooed even more tenderly than before, bringing her captive closer to her face again so she could hush her tone further.  “Put on a happy face.  You made it, little boy.  You’ll get to talk to your girlfriend later.  Doesn’t that make you happy?”

            Scott nodded again to appease his sister as he rested limply in the vice of her firm fingertip flesh, but again, in the moment, it felt pointless.  He doubted, even, that his sister was being disingenuous in her offer.  What did she care now who he talked to or what rules were broken?  Everything she wanted was hers.  He was hers to toy with now however she wanted so long as she occasionally threw a meager reward on the table for his dehumanizing compliance and silence, and worst of all, both knew that he would hungrily lap up such an offer whenever it was posed.

            It made him too nauseous to admit it to himself, but Scott knew already in his heart that his ventures between his sister’s monstrous lips at the size of a thimble were far from over, because all she would have to do was promise him the briefest reprieve from his torment later on, and he would take it without hesitation once again.

            This much of a conclusion alone was nearly enough to send Scott into dry sobs again like before he’d been deposited onto his sister’s tongue an hour before, but he forced himself to choke them down.  With Libby on the way, he didn’t want to let himself become even more unnaturally low than he’d already reached.  As it was, he knew he must’ve barely resembled a human being, globbed so thoroughly in a garb of dried saliva and pinched unwaveringly like fish bait between the all-mighty fingers of a blonde sixteen-year-old goddess.

            Her plaything, her toe jewelry, and now more recently, her candy.

            “Hey, Mags,” came the singsong voice of Libby Hammond as she swung the door open gingerly enough that it didn’t slam upon meeting the wall.  Her short red locks, adorably frilly on the ends, hung around the level of her chin, and her stark green speckled irises were already searching the room intently as soon as she was inside, a thumb pressed inquisitively against her lips as she observed the scene.

            Scott, blinking blearily as he looked up, saw her flinch as she recognized him after the requisite moment needed to identify him through the layer of gooey filth.

            “Libs, come sit with us.  We were just having a nice little chat about… um…” Maggie drawled with a snicker, frowning as her gaze returned to her brother.  “What was it again, Scotty?”

            “Ella,” Scott mustered dryly solely by virtue of the subject.

            “Right!  His girlfriend.  We were talking about his girlfriend.  Personally, I think he could use a woman’s advice, because OBVIOUSLY he hasn’t been doing such a great job of keeping her around recently,” Maggie commented as sincerely as possible, though her words stung all the same, just as she intended them.  “Maybe you can give him some?”

            “Advice?  On his… girlfriend?” Libby managed uncomfortably, clearly detesting the mention of such a thing with regard to the tiny older boy she’d developed such a crush on over the last few years.  Shaking her head, though, she brushed her fingers through her bangs and fought out of her embarrassed stupor, furrowing her brow.  “Um, Maggie?”

            “M-hmm?” the girl responded without looking back as she continued stroking along Scott’s stomach.

            “Is he… okay?  What… what happened to him?”

            “Oh, nothing.  We just worked out a little deal, and then we got to spend some extra time together today.  No problem.”

            “Where was…”

            “Seriously, Libs, it’s okay.  He was just in my mouth for a couple minutes,” Maggie insisted with the most cavalier attitude she could, shrugging but whispering the pivotal m-word in her explanation, just in case Judy returned at any moment to hear.

            “What?” Libby gaped in a hush, taking a few steps further forward until she was standing by the bed.  “In your…”

            “I know.  It was kinda funny, really.  Like having a little circus happening in your mouth, the way he moves around.  You could try him if you wanted.”

            “I… well, I… no!” Libby corrected emphatically, her tone betraying at least a partial desire to experience such a sensation before letting her concern over Scott’s wellbeing rather than her own lustful curiosities take over.  She lowered the upturned palm of her right hand toward Maggie, just below where Scott was being firmly but not painfully gripped between the blonde’s thick fingertips, and held it there expectantly.  “Let me see him.”

            “Aww, c’mon.  He’s all warmed up and everything.  Just look at him,” Maggie wheedled, knowing her friend probably wasn’t going to budge on her position now, but was having fun with teasing her anyway.

            Scott fought back the urge to gaze pleadingly up at Libby’s face, but given how much of his ragdoll-like form was encrusted with his sister’s spit, he was far too humiliated already to chance such a thing.

            “I am looking at him, Maggie.  He looks… really, really tired.  Seriously, give him to me.”

            “Oh, sure thing, Libs.  If you say so,” Maggie responded, and suddenly her lips were unfurling, her writhing pink muscle emerging with a soft squish against the slathered interior.  Before anyone in the room had a chance to say anything else, she was pressing Scott flush against her tongue and working him back and forth against the sticky, rippled surface once again.