As my sister sulked unhappily in her room, I was being assaulted by the media of every type.  New reporters, journalists, camera crews, the list goes on.  I answered all their dumb questions about my new responsibilities, blah blah blah, and how I would further our countries’ cause.  I think it was, at the time, that five girls (embarrassingly enough, my younger sister among them) were taller than me, but for now, I just had to pretend that they weren’t there.  Eventually, my mom ran all of the reporters out of the house, and gave me a long, big hug.  She leaned against my arm and cried: every mother’s dream was now her reality.  I was the guy; the alpha male; the leader of the pack.

Once dinner was ready, my sister sulked her way down the stairs, pounding the stairs with each step.  Once she was in the kitchen, my mom let out a little scream.

“How the hell are you so tall?” she shrieked.

“Ask the big pop star!” she said, mocking me.

“I didn’t do anything!  That was your fault!” I protested.

“I hate you!” she screamed, and stormed off to her room, slamming the door so hard it probably ruined the frame.  As my mom went to console her, I dug into the celebratory steak (a delicacy, as most meats had been all but banned for many years), and went deep into thought.  I began pondering the NORAD room.  If it was ready again in 12 hours, then what would I do with it?  Would it automatically resort to height potions, or could I choose?  I would certainly rather make the girls smaller, rather than become too big: not only would being so huge create problems, but, would girls be able to handle me if I were, say, eight feet tall?  I doubt it.  So I decided that, if I were given the option, I would shrink Hannah, Stephanie, Nataline, Jessica, and Jennifer to, say, 5’6” or 5’7”, and call it even.

Eventually, I finished my meal.  I got up to do dishes, but my mom stopped me, and insisted that she do them.  I agreed, never wanting to skip a good chance at less work, and went to my room to play my Zbox 12.  As I was playing, with the lights dimmed low and the sounds of guns ripping through the air, I vaguely heard my bedroom door opening.  Not wanting to risk ruining my epic kill-streak, I didn’t look to see who it was, but I assumed it was my sister, Jennifer, given the loudness of the footsteps.  Her frame sat on the other corner of my bed, and I heard the old mattress frame creak under her weight.  She waited until I died, and then talked to me.

“I’m sorry I got so upset with you earlier,” she said, almost cooingly.

“That’s alright,” I said, respawning in the game.  She laid her hand on my controller before I could exit the safezone.  She looked at me right in the eye, and said, “I want to talk with you.”

“What’s with you?” I said, jokingly.  “First, you don’t wanna talk, and now you do?”

“Shut up,” she said.  “I’m going to get serious.  Why’d you choose us?”

I was honestly shocked she remembered dad’s story: she was barely three when he told it to me, and just months later he was switched over.

“Well, don’t you remember the story?  He never told us what the named would do, he just told us you had to enter names.”

“Alright,” she said, leaning on her elbow across the width of my bed, with much of her legs hanging off the edge. 

Dang, I didn’t notice how sexy she got, I thought to myself.

Oops, she caught me thinking it.  She got a look on her face-not an upset or disgusted face-but an aroused one.  She began taking off her tight tank-top, and I said, “Jennifer, stop.”

She didn’t listen, though.  She kept taking it off.  I heard the sound of drums, as my team booted me for inactivity (almost ironic, given my response to the current situation), and she began slipping off her yoga pants.

“Jennifer,” I said, sternly.  “Stop.”

“But Bill,” she said, cooing and leaning forward, exposing her great rack, and her slender figure, “I want you so bad!”

“I know, but I’m not enlisted (what men called their job, which was pretty much just being a prostitute) until I’m 20, and I don’t want to have sex with you.”  Sounded pretty stern to me.

Ignoring my words, she removed her pants from her ankles, leaving her in just her undergarments, sitting on the end of my bed.  She leaned in more, and kissed my face.  She lifted up one of her hands, and held my head in place.  She ripped my pants off me, and began working my penis.  Despite my weak protests, her slightly larger frame lowered itself onto me, and began working me.  It was only seconds until I came, and just seconds more until I came again.  After two or three times, she removed herself from me, and began undressing further.

“Jennifer, stop!” I commanded.  “My cum is valuable, and can’t be wasted just for your pleasure!”

As she removed her bra, her massive boobs flopped out, as if breathing a sigh of relief.  She removed her panties, and straddled my, her sexy thighs wrapped around my body.  She rode me for the next five minutes, though through some miracle, I only came once.  Finally, she removed her body from me, and casually walked out of my room, her sexy ass swaying side to side.

“Oh no,” I said out loud.  As much as I loved it, this couldn’t continue.