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Story Notes:

Hi everyone, bit of a disclaimer. I'm sure this title looks a bit familiar, as it should, but I want to state that this is not actually linked to Jacksmith's "A Little Blackmail" series and universe in any way whatsoever. This is just an isolated short I felt like doing with a couple of my characters, nothing more. I hope it's a fun read!

“I’M BACK!”

Under most circumstances, Corey Lindon would have answered his sister’s call with some form of warm recognition. “Have a good run?” or something like that. More generally, he was usually just glad to see her return safely from her solo excursions. Not that they lived in a bad neighborhood or anything, far from it. But…well, he worried, sometimes. He worried now, too, but for entirely different reasons. For the same reason that there would be no answer, no welcome home, no warm greeting.

Because right now, he was 3 inches tall, and terrified out of his mind.

He didn’t know what had happened, at least on the science end of it. At the moment he didn’t fucking care. All that was immediately important was that when he had awoken from a sudden loss of consciousness that had hit him as he had worked on a project in his bedroom, he had found himself in this utterly ridiculous, impossible state. And up until his sister’s voice had carried from downstairs, he had remained frozen where he had awoken in sheer disbelief. But with that call came a sharp realization that had broken through the ice that had covered him: He needed to get some help, and with his parents out of town, Claire was his best and only hope. He just needed to actually get to her.

And that started with picking himself up off the carpet, and immediately bolting toward his open door and through the veritable gateway it now presented itself as. His rational mind, however much it was occupied with the complete irrationality of what had happened to him, had managed to reassert itself to some degree, enough to remind him at least partially of his sister’s habits. And right now, the most important habit in the world was that she always returned immediately to her room after finishing up a run. That was where he had to be, right where she was going. He had a little bit of lead time, something he realized he would need even as he managed to trot out of his room at a respectable time,  a positive to having had his collapse on this particular side of the room.

His heart almost sank as he passed into the upstairs hallway to see the trek before him – a journey that might normally take him only a few steps had now become one that could span the length of a football field, possibly two.  But he didn’t allow his pace to slack, and began pushing himself harder as he left his room behind. And yet, when barely a quarter of the way down the ever-stretching hallway, his muscles were already starting to burn and ache. It was a fact that made little sense to the athletic 18-year old, given his own daily jogs as well as his soccer training, to have his body revolt against what should be a simple exercise to him. But revolt it did, and Corey chose to believe that whatever had happened to him must have taken a toll on his muscles that hadn’t yet manifested until he had exerted himself.

He did not let the aches stop him though, and instead kept running, kept pushing, finishing up the first quarter of his journey. Half came next, and his body cried out all the more. Three fourths, and he was passing the stairwell, biased as it was toward his sibling’s room. Just in time, too, as the tell-tale creaking of foot upon step signaled the start of Claire’s ascent just as he had left it behind. When he reached the threshold of his sister’s room, he promptly keeled over, catching his breath in agonized gasps.

His chance at recovery was short-lived. Already, those creaks had grown quite loud, leaving little doubt that the arrival of their source was nigh. The rest, of course, was extinguished by the rumblings that had started, one after another in a steady, constant rhythm. At first he was thrown off by them, but as they continued and intensified, the reduced young man began to slowly realize what they truly were between pained gasps.

When she took her first step to the top of the stairway and into the hall, well…Claire outright spelled it out for him. The van-sized bare foot that calmly crashed down into the corridor sent another rumble throughout it, this one serving to disrupt Corey’s footing just a bit and causing the hapless shrinkee to put forth considerable effort as he stepped about clumsily in an attempt to regain it. That other foot, just as bare, joined its twin, and Corey watched in mild fascination as the two behemoths pivoted, pointing in the direction of their owner’s destination.

And their owner was fucking big.

Corey attempted to choke out a call for help, though his lungs weren’t particular keen on cooperating with his desire for discovery.  A bad enough position to be in by itself, but as his eyes traced up the being before him, he could feel that ice returning to impede him once more. Claire’s bare legs, strong and fit, covered in well-earned perspiration from her run, rose into the sky for an eternity before disappearing into her black running shorts.

“CLAIRE!” he managed to gasp out as she took a tentative step toward him, her foot causing another minor quake that the exhausted brother had to recover his footing from. And as the strained word had left his lips, as his eyes continued to trace up the athletic young woman before him, Corey Lindon was hit by a horrifying realization as he noted a white wire originating from each of his younger sister’s ears as her tired face looked straight ahead and past him. Wires that eventually merged together before plugging into the phone that sat strapped to his sister’s toned bicep, no doubt supplying her with all manner of beats to run her hardest to.

He had fucked up. Badly. And the knowledge of that almost sent the tired victim of this debilitating status to his knees. He had fucked up, he thought again, even as his sister took another world-shaking step that brought her impossible form even closer – just a step away, in fact. He had overcomplicated this whole thing from the start. He should have waited at the top of the stairs, not bee-lined for Claire’s room. That would have placed him in prime position, where Claire would have had to look at him by the very nature of climbing the steps. She wouldn’t have had to look down, he wouldn’t have needed to call for her – he simply would have been there, at eye level, at some point. Guaranteed attention.

And he had fucked it up in his panic, his rational mind sending him to his current location under significant duress. Sending him right into the path of his now towering little sister, who had no cause to expect that that her older brother was now a mere bug at her feet, no reason to look down. And here he was, with no means of gaining her attention.

No energy to escape, as her right foot surged toward him.

Time for the unfortunate young man seemed to slow down as his sister’s formerly little toes, now boulders of flesh topped off with a scarlet coating, smacked him straight in the face, sending him sprawling onto his back amidst the carpet and imprinting him with just a bit of the sweat and odor developed during their owner’s run. There was pain, too – this was easily the hardest he had ever been stricken by something in his life, and later he might wonder how the blow didn’t break his neck.  Of more importance, though, as he lay on his back, was that this simple step by his overwhelming sibling was not complete yet. The foot was still moving, creating a sky of bronzed skin over the hurting boy who could do nothing but watch in stark horror it eventually seemed to settle above him.

And it still had to come down, something it now seemed immensely interested in doing.

Corey screamed with a terror he had never known before in his life as the canopy above him fell, the world still seemingly suspended in molasses. A scream that would be heard by no one, that was barely heard even by himself as his sister’s sole descended upon him. That short experience at the end of her toes now seemed to be nothing more than the lightest of previews as Claire’s clammy skin pressed down onto him, cutting his scream short. He was subject to a disgusting mouthful of exercised flesh that furthered his silence, the overpowering residue of his sister’s hard work invading his senses, soaking his clothes, and making him just want to throw up out of both disgust and humiliation. He wasn’t quite certain how he didn’t.  It was a hellish experience, underneath her muggy foot, being completely and utterly subjugated by it as he failed to offer even the most token defense.

                It was an experience that suddenly got worse – exponentially so. For the pressure had arrived, born of Claire beginning to settle her now considerable weight down upon him. And God, it hurt. Trumping even the blow from earlier, the exertion of mass upon his body wracked him with pain not unlike what he might expect to face within a trash compactor as it began its horrible, passive job of flattening his helpless body. The pain escalated by the millisecond, and he now found it near impossible to breathe as he was smothered underneath pungent flesh.

                He was going to die, Corey realized, as tears began to well, as the aching in his bones reached a crescendo. He was going to die, messily and ignobly. Ground into nothing by his little sister, whom he loved so much, whom he would do anything for, whom he had looked out for since their childhood. Who was, honestly speaking, probably one of his best friends, if not the best. He was going to be reduced to a pile of thoughtless meat underneath her, and God only knew if he’d be identifiable after the fact.

                The pain continued. His bones began to give. Corey Lindon prepared, as best he could, for the end.

And then it arrived. But not in the form that he had expected, not in the darkness he had pictured, that he had hoped would give way to light. The light did arrive, actually, but it was no different than the dull lighting of the hallway as he had last seen it, before he had been consumed by the underside of his sister’s foot. But more importantly was that the pressure was suddenly gone, removed from him with a quickness that still hadn’t quite registered even as he watched the bronze sky pull away. Still hurting, still aching, still frozen with terror, he watched with unmatched thankfulness as it settled into place well before him.

He looked upward again, then, up those powerful legs. Beyond those black shorts, that navy blue tank top. And far above, like a moon, his sister’s face was looking downward. At him. Her brown eyes wide with confusion, her mouth just ever-so-slightly agape. And she looked down at him like that, for a period of time that seemed to go on forever. As she attempted to process what must seem like an impossible sight.

Some movement, then, a hand slowly reaching for and retrieving the ear buds that lay nestled within their host. That stare, one he now recognized as unblinking, still did not end. Claire was, in fact, staring at his still-prone body with such intensity that for a moment the shaken young man wondered if she had not simply decided to crush him in this manner, instead. But then those lips started to move, and three booming words emerged from within them to join him in his little world of carpet, sweat, odor, and pain.

“What. The. Fuck?

Chapter End Notes:

Still have another to go. Please comment! :)

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