Carly sat on the edge of her bed, her hands resting calmly at her sides, her jeaned legs stretched out as far as they could go, her bare feet flattened against the carpet of her bedroom as she scrunched her toes against the well-worn material.

                Thinking.

                The seventeen-year-old bit her lip, then swiped her tongue across her top row of teeth, feeling the grooves in between each one, the little bits of ground up food mulch jammed between many of them.  She tapped her long, firm fingers against the pink bedspread in rhythm.  Her eyes remained unblinking as she stared straight ahead at her dresser, her pupils locked firmly to the long, white drawer 2nd from the top.

                Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth slowly curled into a smile.  Her tiny brother was waiting for her inside of that dark, dank drawer, surrounded by the strong aroma of washer detergent from her freshly cleansed socks. 

                She imagined, despite the scent of powdery soap, it got to be pretty stale inside of that drawer.  It must have been borderline maddening on the mind of her 3-inch-tall older sibling Jack as he sat, probably in the back corner, huddled into a ball, his eyes closed, waiting.  Wondering.  Wondering when Carly would open the drawer, remove him, and thrust him back into the untold nightmare of his puny life.

                Carly’s smile widened to imagine this.  The feelings he must be experiencing at the moment.  The thoughts going through his head as he sat, naked and completely vulnerable, in the back of the drawer.  Sweating it out.  Praying to a God he probably no longer believed in that she would have mercy on him this day and just leave him in peace.  To wallow in the dark drawer, surrounded by multi-colored socks comparatively the size of small, fabric-lined cars to him.

                Carly remained sitting on the bed.  Of course, if she wanted to, she could get up and in five steps be standing at the drawer. With almost no effort, she could rip the drawer open, sending her tiny brother’s beaten body slamming against the hardwood of the drawer.  An instant later, her hand could be descending, casting a dark shadow over him.  Her smile widening, her white teeth radiating down on him with their glowing, smug shine.  He would probably not even resist it as her fingers wrapped possessively around his cold sides and thin, stick-like legs, lifting him out of the drawer.  Gripping him.  Squeezing him.  Stroking him.  Whatever she wanted.  At that point, she had free reign over him.

                She could do this.  But she didn’t have to. 

                And that was what made this game more fun than anything for Carly.  Her parents were gone for the evening.  She had hours.  Hours to herself, if she so chose, to sit here on her bed, basking in the terror her brother was experiencing right now as he waited for his gargantuan sister to arrive and play with him like her own de-clothed Ken doll.

                Of course, Carly knew her will power wasn’t going to hold out nearly that long.  Eventually, the urge would be too great.  Simply sitting on the bed and imagining what her brother thought she would do with his pathetic nude body at any moment actually made her want to do it.  Carly felt a sly, girlish chuckle escape her lips, and she gently placed her fingers over her mouth as it curled uncontrollably into a soft, devilish smile. 

                She wanted to make his nightmares come true.

                Carly ran her fingers through her long, lustrous dirty-blond hair, taking a deep breath and sighing it dreamily from her lungs as she placed her wide, tanned hand back on the bedspread.  Sometimes she wondered why it was that she enjoyed doing this.  For a long time, when Carly would lay awake at night, pondering the situation with her shrunken brother and his ultimate fate in her hands, she assumed she did this to him because she hated him.

                And she had hated him.  For years.  He, being three years older than she, had always treated her like dirt, pranking her, calling her names, never giving her a helping hand when she needed it most.  What gave him the right?  Carly felt her fists tighten to recall these things, but then her fingers softened against her palm as she thought harder about it.  No.  No, it wasn’t this.  She didn’t hate him anymore, and she realized this.

                It was simply what he was.  He wasn’t even a person any more.  It didn’t matter who he had been at one point, it mattered what he was now.  And what he was now was a puny, few inch tall, naked, pathetic, crying, easy, desperate toy.  Her toy.  No one else’s.  It was only right that he remain in his drawer, waiting for her to get him out and play with him when she decided it was time.

                He had nothing.  No possessions.  No rights.  No life, if she decided to take it away.

                Carly nodded to herself, finally able to define it in her mind.  This was why she did these things to her brother.  Why it was not necessary to feel guilt, remorse, or even real pity for the tiny little boy sitting terrified in her sock drawer at the moment.  Why it actually was necessary to do these things to him.  Without reinforcement, Carly knew her brother would undoubtedly return to a state of pathetic begging and whimpering for her to help him return to normal size.  But this was impossible, and she knew it. 

                Carly had made another decision about her brother long ago.  His old life as her bullying older brother had all been a farce.  It had been a trick from some higher power.  A mistake, even.  His real life had begun three years before when, in an electric strike of good luck, he had been reduced to three inches tall, forced to come to her for survival.  It was at that moment, Carly knew without a doubt, that Jack’s life… his TRUE life… had begun.  He had always been meant to serve his life, not as her older brother, but as her amusement.  Her doll.  Her possession.  He was finally in his rightful place, and it was her duty to make sure he knew it.

                Carly opened her hand, flattening her fingers out, and stared down into her fleshy palm.  It looked so small to her, and yet she knew to her brother, when he was sitting in it, it was a gigantic plane of flesh and muscle: a vehicle by which he could be delivered to any number of horrible, horrible fates.  She grinned to herself, wiggling her fingers gleefully, then brought her hand to her lips and placed a soft kiss on her own palm.  Soon enough, it would serve its proper purpose again.  She knew it.  Her will power was getting weaker by the minute.

                On the carpet, Carly casually kicked her feet under the bed, and stubbed her big toe on something hard and plastic.  Raising an eyebrow, she used her dexterous toes to pull the object out from under the bed, leaving it at the base of the covers.  She squinted down at it, then smiled, her eyes widening.  It was one of her old dolls.  One normally used with Barbies to represent a male child.

                Gently, Carly raised her foot off the ground, and brought it just over the tiny Barbie boy.  She arched her toes and lowered it down, tapping the firm, fleshy ball of her foot against the little doll’s face.  The soft, rubbery touch of it against her skin was almost unbearable.  She could practically hear the little doll screaming bloody murder at her, quietly, from beneath the long ceiling of creamy, stale foot flesh.  She pressed down harder, smiling to herself, gripping the bedspread tightly with her fingers.  Savoring the feeling as she flattened her entire soft sole down against the rest of the doll’s body, molding it into the tender, pale skin underneath her foot.  Where he belonged.  His place.

                She wouldn’t be able to handle it much longer, and she knew it.

                Removing her foot, Carly arched her toes against the carpet for support before flicking them outward, kicking the tiny doll across the carpeted floor.  He was no longer needed or wanted.  After all, Carly thought with an adorable little laugh that broke the silence, she had an option far better than that stupid doll.  Flattening both feet hard against the ground with a pious stomp, Carly rose to her feet and began walking across the room.

                With each step as she neared the dresser, Carly felt her head beginning to swim.  The feeling was so familiar.  A high.  An incredible, incredible high.  Her brain lit on fire and then doused in nitrogen.  Many of her friends often experimented with drugs at parties, and Carly recalled trying it once.  Only once.  But never again, because her secret drug was far more potent than anything her friends had, and this only filled her with more glee.  Her friends often spoke of the effects of rolling, and all she could do was smile and shake her head.  If only they could experience what she got to experience on a nightly basis, or really whenever she wanted.  Instant access to a spine-tingling, goose-bump-giving effect whenever she wanted.

                And all she had to do was begin walking toward that dresser, knowing full well what was coming.  Her brother was the greatest drug she knew she would ever want or need.  His pathetic, cold, little body waiting for her.  Nothing stopping her.  A human life, lying in wait, depending entirely on her actions.  The thoughts alone were the kinds of things that made Carly feel joy and excitement, even a curious sort of arousal.  Often stomach aches when she hadn’t experienced it for a while.

                Carly’s firm fingers gripped around the wooden handle of the drawer, her palms beginning to sweat a little with the anticipation. The short hair on her arms standing on end.  Electricity flowing through her brain wildly.  Carly swallowed deeply and pulled the drawer open.

                There he was.  Jack.  Small.  Helpless.  Naked.  Vulnerable. Worthless.

                Hers.

                They locked eyes for a moment as Jack stared up contentedly at her.  Like he knew what was coming already and didn’t care anymore.

                Carly beamed a little to herself.  Exactly what she wanted.  Pursing her lips in a confident way, Carly lowered her hand into the drawer, extending her fingers like claws.  The high was about to peak, and she almost felt her vision blur a little until she made contact.  The soft touch of Jack’s skin against her fingers and fingertips.  Against her palm.  She squeezed her fingers together, trapping the boy in between them.  She was practically melting with the magnificent, unadulterated euphoria. 

                Holding her brother in her hands once again, where he was meant to be.  She stared down at his little face, staring blankly up at her.  No doubt with fear flowing through his veins, causing his hopes to crumble even before she had to do anything to him to crumble them.  Carly nodded to herself, poking her wet, pink tongue between her lips.  She would have to act soon to make sure there were still some hopes leftover for her to crush manually out of him rather than let his own terror do it for her.

                She wriggled her fingers, feeling every square inch of him, knowing there was nowhere safe or sacred on his body from her.  Because it was hers to do with as she pleased.  She tapped at his chin, ran her fingertip along his fine, string-like hair.  Patted at his reasonably toned muscles along his arms and chest.  Tapped her thumb at his feet before running it gently up his leg and into his crotch, where she pressed and felt him tingle uncomfortably out of instinct.  She pressed again, giggling deeply as he jerked at the horrible, violating touch.  She readjusted her fingers, allowing him to fall more snugly into her warm, sweaty palm.

                Whatever she wanted to happen to him would happen.  It was such a pure, impossible truth, and yet it was her wonderful, perfect reality.  And if he didn’t believe in God anymore, that was okay, Carly realized.  She was his God now.

                Carly dashed into her bedroom, slammed the door behind her, and took the few extra steps to her bed before collapsing on it, finally allowing the tears to flow completely freely.  She clasped her fingers against her wet, rosy cheeks as she rubbed at her stinging red eyes in vain.  The warm tears continued to splash down her face, creating a small pool on her bed under her face.  The sobs were slowly being choked in the back of her throat, lined with tears, as she fought back the heaving sounds.  She pressed her face down into the bedspread, closing her eyes, gritting her teeth, and trying to just breathe steadily for the first time in over two hours.

                It was over.  It was finally over.  She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but the evidence was far too incriminating.  The little notes.  The weird anonymous texts.  The evenings where he hadn’t been available.  She had trusted Nathan through these little hiccups for the past four months, but this afternoon had been too much.  A used condom and pair of panties, sitting in the dashboard drawer of his car.  The sight had been, to sixteen-year-old Carly, like having a knife jammed directly through her chest, impaling her against a wall while screaming laughter played all around her, in her ears and into her mind.  It made her want to explode.

                For a few minutes, Carly had tried to go over in her mind who it could have been, but she decided she didn’t want to know.  It wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t someone else right now, it was Nathan.  All him.  Her newly ex-boyfriend.

                “Y-Y-You were supposed t-to l-l-love me…” whispered Carly, almost silencing her wet cries with the bed sheet.  “Why?  W-Why?”

                Carly sat in silence for several minutes more, before feeling a different sensation suddenly grip her mind, as if she had been struck by lightning and been pulled completely out of her damp stupor.  She felt her fingers clasp together into a fist so hard she felt her knuckles turning white and popping.  Her muscles tensed.  Her teeth gritted hard back together, grinding against one another.  Her face hardened, almost tightening with the new feeling of unbridled, boiling, red-hot rage surging like lava through her veins.

                “You… y-you son of a b-bitch…” whispered Carly, more focused now.  Slowly, she stood up and swiped the last of the tears collecting on her red cheeks, standing tall in her room once again.  She let her arms fall to the side.  “I h-hate you.  All of y-you.  Everyone that’s like you.  Everyone that’s…” she whimpered, snarling almost, before her eyes darted around the room and froze on something.

                The dresser.  The 2nd drawer from the top.

                “Everyone that’s like… you!” she hissed in such a low voice she felt her throat chug slightly with the effort of getting out the passion in this phrase.  Planting her flip-flop-clad foot hard on the carpet, Carly stomped quickly toward the drawer, the worn rubber shoe slapping sharply against her soft sole, her arms outstretched as if she had become zombified.  Waiting.  Enraged.  She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something about this feeling before it consumed her mind completely and caused her to collapse.

                Grasping the wood drawer knob in her long, firm fingers as hard as she could, Carly slammed it open with all her might, screeching a little with the effort.  Her naked 3-inch-tall brother Jack, trapped inside of it, went careening against the front of the drawer from the force.  He gasped, then grunted painfully as he was slammed against the surface.  Righting himself slowly and rubbing at a newly formed bruise on his shin, he looked upward, and the moment he locked eyes with the humongous, tear-soaked, demonically angry face of his younger sister and captor Carly, his face crumbled into an expression of pant-pissing fear and dread.

                “C-C-Carly?  S-Sis?” he squealed, hardly able to get anything else out.  “Are y-y-you…”

                “Shut UP!” screeched Carly back at him, sending a balled up fist down hard and fast into the drawer.  Bringing it down on her brother, she pinned him roughly against the base of the drawer, forcing his face down brutally into a bright green pair of socks.  Her flesh tightened as her fingers clasped together, the muscle in her hand flexing outward, causing the tiny boy to be even more easily splayed, helplessly, under her fist.  “Don’t say another word to me unless I talk to you first.  Do you understand me?” she whispered intensely and with a sudden calm in her delivery.  “Not another word.”

                Weakly, beneath the gargantuan pile-driving force of his little sister’s clenched fist, Jack squealed his word of affirmation to his totalitarian sibling’s request before gasping shallowly for air.  Satisfied, Carly unclenched her fist and pinched her thumb and pointer finger roughly around her brother’s left ankle and lifted him dangling upside down out of the drawer, bringing him close to her hardened, frowning face.

                She watched him rise, flailing loosely in the air.  So small.  So helpless.  Like all men were meant to feel, Carly nodded to herself.  This is what all of them deserved to feel.  Scared beyond belief and unable to do a single thing to save himself.  She kneaded his puny ankle between her powerful fingers, her skin tingling with the thought of snapping it against her fleshy digits.  It would take almost no effort.  Like breaking a wishbone, probably, if not easier.

                No.  Not yet.  Not today.

                Carly stared into the eyes of her brother as he struggled to remain still in her precarious grasp, despite the fact that he was staring at an upside down death plunge to the carpet far, far below his head.  After a moment of staring, though, she could barely see the delicate features of Jack, her 19-year-old brother anymore.  All she saw was the arrogant, self-centered, outputting, selfish bastard expression of Nathan.  And that was all that mattered right now.

                “You… you sick little fuck…” she gasped so low it practically took her breath away.  Her fingers quivered against her brother’s thin ankle with the effort of keeping steady.  “You.  All of you.  You’re all the same.  All exactly the same.  Aren’t you?”

                For a moment, there was no reply as Jack remained frozen and terrified beyond belief, suspended in midair.  Carly’s eyes narrowed, and she brought him closer to her lips.  This was always one of the best ways to get a faster reaction from him.  She stared down at him, below the level of her nose.  Just as Nathan deserved for his sliminess.  To be looked down upon for the worm that he was.

                “AREN’T you?” she hissed, low and deep, emitting thick, sweltering heat from the bowels of her sticky throat like a cave of molten rock.

                “Yes!  Yes!  Oh, G-G-God… Carly… p-please, please… I d-don’t know what I d-did, b-but…”

                “Shut up,” snarled Carly curtly and simply one more time, curling her upper lip in abject disgust at the object clenched between her fingers, right in front of her lips.  She was getting sick of not being listened to, and she felt the rage boiling back up inside of her.  She had spent all day feeling helpless, alone, and unable to say a single thing to anyone about what she had gone through.  It was time for the tables to turn, and her rightful place as the one in control of the situation to return. At this moment, disobedience was going to be costly.

                “P-Please, I’m s-s-sorry, p-please…” began Jack again, but he was cut off by a soft gurgling sound in the back of Carly’s throat.  His eyes widened, his ears cocked, and he waited.  Carly breathed deeply, hocking in the back of her throat, before letting loose and shooting out cold air hard and heavy directly into her vulnerably dangling little brother.  A spit wad, thick with gummy mucus and watery spittle, came flying outward like a hot, sticky cannonball from between Carly’s plush pink lips, slamming squarely so hard into Jack’s chest and face the wind was knocked cleanly from his fragile body.

                Jack coughed loudly, and an instant later found himself nearly immobilized as the wad of spit, caking most of his body, began distributing itself adhesively over nearly every inch of his body, the condensed blobs of translucent yellow fixing themselves against his shoulders and crotch.  He sputtered wildly for a second, blowing a hard bubble into the steamy, gooey saliva before creating an opening large enough around his face to breathe and gasp with mortified disgust as the stuff settled over his entire body like a liquid blanket of smelly, sisterly juices.

                Carly stared down at him for a moment, admiring her handiwork with a satisfied smile.  Watching her own repulsive salivary gland gifts dribbling slowly over the pathetic body of the small, worthless male she held so powerlessly in her fingers.  The hours of crying had caused her throat to become clogged with excess mucus, and it really showed as the bubbly, glue-like mess settled itself wholly over her brother’s body.  The familiar tingling sensation rippled through her bloodstream, like the feeling of ice pricking her skin from every angle.

                The sight before her was so horrid and humiliating to witness, and because of it, she couldn’t even allow herself to blink.  It was so wrong in so many ways, and yet Carly hadn’t felt this right all day long.  She wondered why she hadn’t spent the remaining classes of the school day daydreaming about this.  Fantasizing.  The sheer, unbearably disgusting sight; the smell of the goop; the almost piteous state of the little flailing body in her fingers trying not to drown.  It was more wonderful than she would have dared to imagine.  The tiny, pathetic body struggling so violently against such a simple liquid from the grimy backwash of her warm throat.  It was unreal to see Jack like this, no matter how many times she did it or something of a similar nature to him.

                But right now, then again, thought Carly slowly and deliberately, it wasn’t Jack.  This wasn’t her brother.  For this moment, it was Nathan fighting against the cruel bonds of her overpowering and disgusting spit as it fell over his cold, naked body which hung over a doom drop to the floor.  His fate literally in the hand of the one he had hurt so strongly this day.  The one who had every right to let him drop to the ground, watching the giant remorseless face of his ex-girlfriend falling further and further upward as he plummeted toward messy justice on the carpet far below.

                But Carly knew she wouldn’t do that.  She couldn’t.  That would be letting him off easy for his crimes.  With a smug smile and a shot of pride through her heart, Carly knew what she was about to do was not just meant to be between herself and Nathan.  It was for every girl or woman hurt by a selfish boy or man.  Every spurned woman who had, for even a fleeting moment, wished the impossible wish: the clasp the helpless, vulnerable body of the filthy cheater in her own hands.  To have complete control over him, just as he had taken over her so heartlessly.  To beat him down into the ground.  To make him feel less than the dirt his new goddess tread upon.  To hear him beg pathetically for mercy that would never be given.  To allow his hopes to rise before crushing them satisfyingly into the dust.

                To make him bow before his new owner, worship her with every ounce of strength he had left, and pray with every fiber of his being that she would see fit to play with him for just a bit longer rather than ending his useless life.

                Raising her other hand calmly up to Jack’s body, Carly stretched her middle finger back against her thumb like a springboard, pressurizing flesh against flesh in wait.  Jack saw it almost immediately and despite the awkward layers of his sister’s teary spit still covering his body like a gooey robe of shame, he had the strength and dignity required to cry out one last time.

                “NO!  C-Carly, no, p-please.  P-P-Please, not t-there…  I’ll do anything… anyt-thing…” he moaned with desperate passion.  Carly listened for a moment and smiled.  It was almost too easy.  He had given in so, so quickly that it was almost disappointing.  She had hoped to have the insane pleasure of slowly breaking him down to this point of base willingness over at least a half hour, if not longer.

                After a moment, though, Carly shrugged to herself.  She had always prided herself on finding new creative ways to ensure the games with her brother went on unendingly, even when he had tried to disqualify himself from them.  No such luck, thought Carly, running her tongue along her powerful molars in thought.  No such luck.

                Without a second thought or a shred of remorse, Carly flicked her middle finger out from her thumb, landing a ball-rending crack across her brother’s exposed genitals that caused him to gasp so painfully hard it sounded like his Lilliputian lungs had collapsed into themselves.

                “Take that, Nathan, you little son of a bitch,” thought Carly with infinite glee and satisfaction in her heart.

                Carly tapped the eraser of her pencil against the lined paper on her desk in her bedroom, doing her best to concentrate on a math problem she had reread about five times.  Blinking several times, Carly took a deep breath and read it back through, finally allowing it to register in her mind so she could actually begin working out the problem.  Setting the leaden pencil tip against the paper, the seventeen-year-old began etching out numbers to the best of her ability, but after a moment of writing, she realized it wasn’t going in any particularly logical direction.

                With a smug smile and a soft moan of glee, Carly recognized just how preoccupied she was and decided to take a quick brain break, instead allowing herself to concentrate more pleasurably on the tickling sensation she was experiencing.  Under the desk, beneath her massive, tanned right bare foot was Jack, pinned powerlessly under her big toe and struggling valiantly to get free.

                She felt him wrap both arms and legs around her toe for an instant, as if this action would give him more leverage and the possibility of escape.  She chuckled, shaking her head, but at the same time admired his resolve, as well as what was apparently a very high level of hope that he was actually strong enough to push his little sister’s overpowering toe off of his naked body.

                Because of this admiration, Carly indulged her puny brother for a moment, and instead of pressing down on his body even harder with her long, muscular toe, waited for a moment to see what he planned to do.  She felt him grasping roughly with all four of his limbs around her toe, violently searching for any point of advantage.  It was adorable to Carly, and she couldn’t help but giggle lightly again as the tickle was sent into her sensitive foot flesh.  The effort he was putting into grasping all angles of her toe with his limbs was actually warming it up a little, and the very thought of this caused the goose bumps to rise up along Carly’s skin again.

                In some strange way, she realized, Carly was honored that he would put so much effort into her.  It was cute to her, really.  The fact of reality was that, with enough applied pressure, Carly could snap her brother’s spine beneath the weight of her foot with a simple angular change of her thick, padded digit.  However, it was far too fun to not force Jack to realize this fact, and instead let him have his little dream of being strong enough to lift the soft, smelly toe off of his body like a piece of meaty deadweight.

                Carly blinked.  That was long enough.  Pressing downward suddenly with her big toe, Carly instantly immobilized her brother against the carpet again, pinning him like a heavyweight wrestler on a malnourished first grader.  It wasn’t even a contest, and Carly could practically feel the hope draining once again from her puny brother’s body beneath the weight of her toe as he exhaled heavily, trying to catch his breath again unsuccessfully.  The wrinkled, sinewy big toe was applying far too much pressure to make this a very easy task, though.  She could feel his lungs deflating rapidly, his relatively thin skin caving against his ribcage, which felt to Carly more brittle than plastic.

                Satisfied for the moment, Carly allowed her mind to shift away from her pathetic brother currently pinned to the carpet by one of her big toes, and instead returned to her math homework.  It wasn’t a fun alternative, but Carly knew if she kept up like this much longer, she’d but up far past midnight getting all of her work done.  Setting the pencil tip back on the paper, she began to write again, this time coherently.  However, the reprieve didn’t last long before she felt something else that caused her to stop her work, shake her head in disbelief, and smile proudly and piously.

                She could feel him getting to work on her big toe again, pushing upward with all his might against the soft give of her skin as if bench-pressing.  It wasn’t having an effect, but he didn’t give up.  Carly couldn’t help but be impressed with how quickly her vulnerable little slave-sibling had recovered and gone back to his useless task of removing his sister’s big toe’s immense, fleshy weight and stale stench.

                As if.

                He’s got balls, thought Carly.  I’ll give him that much.

                The ease with which she could make this moment even more unbearable for him was the main thrill to Carly.  He was pinned in the most dangerous of places.  Under her foot.  Under her toe.  And even here, safe from the primary plain of wrinkled, thick foot flesh, he was in incredible danger.  Despite how dexterous the young girl was with her feet, having become so practiced at abusing Jack with them, there was still great risk involved when shifting weight between them.  If Carly started to lose her balance on her chair, she knew there was a chance she would stomp down instinctively with her right foot for balance, instantly liquefying her brother into a red stained tattoo of memory on her big toe.

                That was all of the fun, though.  The excitement.  The risk.  The danger.  So much depended on her at this moment.  The tiny, insignificant life could be snuffed out with the simplest of motions.  It was more effective for Carly than any game of Russian Roulette ever would be.  Finally, Carly cleared her throat and took a deep breath, then leaned her head closer to the edge of the desk.

                “Smoochies, little bro.  Give it smoochies,” she cooed down at him, making mocking puckering noises with her moist lips before returning her gaze to her math paper.  With a smile, she felt the effect almost instantly.  The tiny, almost non-distinguishable pecks of wetness being planted on her thick big toe.  Her little brother’s lips, hard at work.  She giggled, rubbing her forehead.  No matter how many times this happened, she couldn’t get over the magnificent novelty of it.

                What was going on right now was boggling Carly’s mind in so many wonderful ways.  Jack hated her already.  That much was certain, and not even for money would he have kissed the top of her head years ago at his normal size.  Now, he had to kiss her, with no benefit whatsoever besides continued survival.  But it wasn’t her cheek or head.  It was the filthiest, smelliest, stalest, thickest part of her entire body.  Something reserved for use walking through mud puddles and being pounded on continually for sweat-inducing physical activity.  He was placing his mouth, the thing he needed to keep relatively clean to eat with and just for his peace of mind, onto the lowliest of Carly’s skin and offering tokens of love to it.  Whenever it was asked for.  She couldn’t even fathom how awful it was for him: the mental and emotional havoc being wrecked on his psyche, the dismal realization of how little he was worth in the eyes of his spoiled rotten little sister, the dirty and salty flavors assaulting his throat with each painful, heart-crushing kiss upon possibly his most hated place in the entire world.

                The tingling sensation returned tenfold, causing Carly to shiver slightly.  She closed her eyes, savoring each itsy bitsy kiss on her toe.  It was like being tickled by the tiniest, gentlest feather available, and Carly knew she would never tire of it.  Like having her foot washed by the tender, sugary body of a fairy, its wings clipped and its trembling, naïve body placed rightfully on the ground to worship its statuesque goddess.  This idea was particularly wonderful to Carly, and she gazed up at the ceiling of her room, resting her chin on a soft fist, and beginning to lose herself in a daydream.

                “Kiss me, little fairy.  Kiss me, pet.  You don’t need your magic anymore.  You just need me…” she drawled, the words coming out sounding half-drunken, as she was exhausted from all the homework and basketball practice earlier.  “You don’t need to fly.  You don’t need your stupid little wings.  You need to be there, on the ground, where you belong.  You’re not a person.  You’re a bug.  A cute little bug.  Welcome to your new… home… under me,” she said with a smile, pulling herself from the daydream and forcing her toe back down on Jack with a fleshy snap, ending this newest attempt of his to escape the prison of his sister’s bus-sized bare foot.

                “That’s soooo much better,” she cooed under her breath, smiling wider as she felt his limbs squirming pathetically against her rank toe skin again.  “No more wings for Jackie-poo.”

                Sighing contentedly, Carly grasped the pencil with newfound determination and energy, and returned her eyes to the math problem.  However, this didn’t last long before she was frowning again.  Something wasn’t right.  But what?  After a moment of thinking, Carly rolled her eyes in annoyance and realized what it was.

                Scrunching her big toe so hard around Jack’s body she felt him buckling upward slightly from the hard, fleshy pull of her foot wrinkles, she peered under the desk, continuing to frown.  She used his slippery, sweating body for a few more seconds to massage her dry skin, scrunching mindlessly, hypnotically, up and down, as if trying to find the point where Jack’s body would break in half under the crushing, curling weight of her plump, unpainted big toe.

                “Hey.  I don’t remember telling you to stop kissing, you stupid little bug,” she whispered sharply to her tiny brother as he struggled to stay in one piece against the soft, reeking torture device of his younger sister’s terrifyingly strong big toe.

                Carly leaned back against her bed frame, crossing her arms behind her head after rolling her shirt up toward her neck, and looked down at her stomach with a smug smile.  Her tiny brother, crumpled flat on his face in exhaustion, was laying in the center of her flat, muscled abs just above her belly button.  She inhaled deeply, allowing her stomach to rise, then blew out all the air slowly and warmly.  She watched Jack’s tired form being raised and lowered helplessly by the endless, fleshy plain of his younger sister’s soft stomach skin.  She giggled.  He looked like he really had had just about enough.

                And when Jack looked like he had had enough, Carly’s enjoyment always went up as she continued playing whatever game they had been playing.  After all, she wasn’t going to let her pet dictate when they were done.  That was her choice alone.

                Extending a hand, Carly gently slid her pointer finger under her brother’s stomach and flicked, flipping him over like a rag doll onto his back.  He made no noise or motion of resistance, he just flopped over.  Carly chuckled again, her belly vibrating slightly, shaking her miniscule brother.  Still, he had no reaction.

                Of course, Carly could only be amused by Jack’s complete exhaustion for so long before she needed something else to happen.  And if Jack wasn’t going to take the lead on the game, then, with a sigh, Carly realized she would have to.  Reaching for Jack’s right arm, Carly pinched it between her thumb and forefinger and plucked her brother off of her stomach.

                The sensation was so strange.  Jack was so light, she barely felt a difference in pressure being exerted on her skin once his shrimpy body had been removed.  Wrinkling her nose in annoyance as she brought her brother’s limp body up to her nose, Carly scoffed.

                “You’re not being very much fun right now, little bro,” said Carly dryly, looking over her brother’s naked body for any sign of motion.  There was none yet.  “I just want to play with you, and you’re sleeping right through it.”

                Slowly, Jack lifted his head and looked his sister in the eye.  His tiredness was such that he could muster no expression in his mouth or eyes, though, and this was disappointing to Carly.  She had hoped, at the very least, to see some fear, or maybe (if she was lucky), some depression.

                “Well, if you don’t want to play, I guess…” drawled Carly slowly.  “I can put you back in the dresser for now…”

                At this, Jack perked up a little, his eyes widening with hope, his arm squirming a little against the intense, fleshy tug of his sister’s wide fingertips gripping it.

                Good.  Carly smiled slightly to herself.  Now it would be a little more fun.

                “…or, I guess…” continued the seventeen-year-old titaness sister, rubbing at her chin with her free hand.  “I could find something to do with you by myself.  It won’t be as fun, but…”

                Carly couldn’t hide her grin any more.  She could see the hope in Jack’s tiny eyes literally being extinguished and being replaced with dread.

                Good.

                “I could do just about anything with you, couldn’t I?” she continued, the joy rising in her voice.  “I could tie you up in my hair.  Your little arms and legs spread out as far as I could get them.  And then I’d just… leave you there?” she said brightly, as if asking the question rhetorically rather than trying to get an opinion from her brother.  “But… I don’t know about that.  Tie you up too tightly, and it might sting a little for me…”

                Her eyes glanced back to Jack.  His head was hanging lower.  Even better, though, Carly’s fingers could pick up slight vibrations from her brother’s flimsy right arm.  He was trembling.

                Better.

                “I could put you somewhere.  But… but where…” said Carly, raising an eyebrow as she shifted her legs inward.  Slowly, she lowered Jack’s body until, as he looked down, he realized he was dangling directly over Carly’s left bare foot, pressed against her thigh, her toes flipping back and forth.  Instantly, the trembling got worse.  The girl grinned, snickering to herself under her breath.

                “What, you don’t want to go down there?” asked Carly innocently.  “But… but I thought you liked it there.  Why not?”

                There was no answer.

                “Why not?” she asked again, her hand lowering slowly toward her foot, which she pulled off of her thigh and instead angled it on its side.  She arched her foot inward, wrinkling her pale sole, scrunching her toes inward as if in warning to her brother as his body steadily approached what was so often his horrible, humiliating, unwanted companion.

                “CARLY!” screamed Jack at last coughing.  “P-P-Please… so… s-so t-tired…”

                “Sorry, what was that?” cooed Carly, continuing to lower Jack toward her warm sole.

                “T-t-tire… t-tire…” he gasped before being mashed so hard and flat against the bottom of his sister’s foot all sound was completely cut off.  Carly closed her eyes, clasping her hand as completely as she could over the little figure in her grasp to ensure he had no air holes.  She then began rubbing her brother’s naked body against the wide, wrinkled plane of her foot, enjoying the silence again.

                She concentrated on it.  Anything.  Everything.

                The warmth of the impossibly small body against her cold skin.  The little limbs squirming like insect feet.  The microscopic teeth biting uselessly at the thick pads of foot flesh in an effort to get oxygen.  The tiny member sliding over ticklish, tanned wrinkle valleys and slopes.  Carly moaned gently before releasing her brother from the inescapable wall of her tender sole, feeling his body go limp again in her palm.  She curled her fingers back around him, scrunching him possessively into her fist and raised him back up toward her face.

                “You could play with my feet, little bro.  If I wanted you to.  And I know you’d enjoy it, even if you lied to me and told me to stop,” she said, watching his tiny chest rise and fall robotically in her hand.  She brought him closer to her lips, exhaling slowly, sending a wave of hot air over him.  “So, I’ll ask you again.  What did you say before?”

                “P-Please… too t-tired…” gasped Jack in her fist before having a firm thumb clasped over his face, pushing back so hard his neck began to strain a little.

                “Fair enough.  Besides, I’m planning on going out with Jenny later, and I figured you’d want to go,” said Carly gently, releasing her thumb from her brother’s head just in time to avoid snapping his neck.

                “W-What?  R-Really?” he gasped; Carly couldn’t tell if it was relief or fear in his voice.

                “Yep!  And I’m wearing the Uggs, too.  Do you care which ones?”

                “S-S-Sho…” he whispered.

                “Speak up, little guy, I can’t understand you.”

                “S-Short ones…” he breathed.

                “Cool!  Tall ones it is, then!” said Carly triumphantly, grinning piously at her brother in her hand, who once again had the hope drained from him.  She giggled.  Her feet always sweated more heavily in the taller, thicker-lined Uggs, and her brother knew it.  She stared down at him, her deep blue eyes glowing, her luscious blonde locks hanging messily over her shoulders, draping her tan, angelic face.

                The incredible spine-tingling high was sneaking back into her brain again.  The mere thought of it.  She was able to declare, mentally, to herself (and to her brother as well) that in a matter of hours, Jack would be trapped under a claustrophobic mile of his sister’s toned leg, mashed effortlessly time and time again into the filthy, well-worn fur of the bottom of the Ugg boot courtesy of Carly’s mercilessly wide, perspiring, doughy sole.  It wasn’t a desire or a wish.  It was a fact that couldn’t be argued with any effect by anyone.  A solid, unalterable guarantee of her little brother’s existence.  Carly shivered with glee.

                Carly’s hair almost felt electrified.  It was like a dream.  She knew it was a dream, and therefore could do whatever she wanted, and yet this fact didn’t end the dream or wake her up.  She was allowed to continue on, free of consequences, doing whatever she pleased to her brother whom she had hated for so many years.  The options were so open to her, she hardly knew what to do next.

                To Carly, she was a child let loose in a mega toy store, where anything she wanted was free.  And, in this scenario, Jack was every single toy in that store.  Just waiting to be played with.  No other reason to exist but for Carly to snatch off the shelf and make it into her own.

                Carly grinned, knowing she was truly only limited by her imagination.

                The teen shook her head, returning to reality.  Jack was in her hand now, not in her boot.  Yet.

                “Know what else I could do, little bro?” she chuckled.  “Guess.”

                “Ughh…” groaned Jack, more out of sheer tiredness than disgust.

                “I said guess,” she said more sternly.

                “N-Nothing,” gasped Jack.  This made Carly laugh.  Was he testing her?  If he was, she thought slyly, he was about to be proven that toying with her was a bad idea.  He was the toy.  Always.  The roles could never ever be switched.

                “Nothing, huh?  Well, that’s too bad.  It’s okay, though.  I have a few ideas,” she said, opening her lips wider and wider and tapping her tongue against the roof of her mouth.  “You could go in my mouth, for starters.”

                At this, Jack began to squirm, causing Carly to move the hand holding him ever closer to her mouth.  Each useless movement of his weak limbs gave her an even greater desire to terrify him more.  The more he displayed his feelings of horror, the greater and more powerful Carly was allowed to feel.  And at this moment, Jack was fighting back as hard as his spent body would allow.

                “Somebody’s been a bad little boy,” she said gently, flicking her tongue gently out of her mouth.  “And I think that somebody is going to find out what happens to misbehaving little boys right now.”

                “C-Carly… p-please…”

                “Oh, stop flipping out, little bro.  You KNOW I’m not going to eat you.  I’m just going to…” she mulled, smiling slyly as she considered the possibilities.  “…well, I guess we’ll just have to get creative, hmm?”

                “P-Please… d-don’t…”

                “Down the hatch!” she almost cackled, tipping her fingers over her gaping maw and allowing her older brother to tumble down into the messy darkness of her mouth.  The instant Carly felt his limbs hit her damp, squishy tongue, she closed her mouth, sealing him in horrifying blackness.

                She sat for a few moments, savoring his flavor.  The light, fleshy overtones.  The salt of his sweat: normally a disgusting idea, but the fact that she herself had inspired and caused it through sheer intimidation made her enjoy this taste all the more.  Feeling him squirming back to life, she hardened the muscles in her tongue and pinned him firmly against the roof of her mouth, immobilizing him and causing her to giggle.  It was so easy to subdue him no matter what part of her body she was using, it was almost boring.  Borderline disappointing, actually.  The only way around this fact, Carly had discovered, was continually offering her brother fake chances of escape only to snatch it away from him again; if anything, it was to give herself the thrilling little challenge of beating her brother at their games over and over within the same few minutes.  One of her favorite methods of this was opening her lips just enough for her brother, entrenched in comparative gallons of her goopy saliva, to crawl toward the light with the hope of freedom before she’d slurp him directly back against her cheek like a floppy spaghetti noodle.

                Still keeping her brother pinned like a bug against the damp roof of her mouth using her slippery tongue, Carly descended briefly into thought.  Let’s see, thought the teen carefully.  What would make this suck even more for him?

                Instantly, Carly got to work, inflating and deflating her cheeks, sucking at the sloshy skin around her teeth.  Within moments fresh saliva was pooling hot and thick like DNA-laced syrup around the base of her mouth and, with a feeling of gratification, Carly released her tongue, allowing her tiny brother to slide down the slick slope of her thick muscle and into the base of her jaw, around her teeth.  She felt him land with an uncomfortable splash in the warm spit that had begun filling in around her cheeks, banging his limbs uncomfortably against her ivory teeth.  Satisfied, Carly nodded to herself and set to work swishing around the saliva in her cheeks, sending her brother tossing around, head over heels, along with the gooey waves of sticky substance.

                “It’s going to be a good day,” thought Carly to herself with a smile as she pinned her brother back against the roof of her mouth with her muscular, dripping tongue.  “So full of possibilities…”

                “So, here’s the game, little bro,” stated Carly simply, hands on her hips, as she glowered down at her tiny naked brother as he stood shakily on the carpet at her feet, looking upward at his owner and hoping against hope that whatever was coming would result in minimal injury.  “You get to run for the door.  If you make it without me catching you, I’ll let you off the hook for now.  You don’t make it, and…” she giggled, covering her mouth and glancing slyly down at Jack as he cowered before her.  “…well, let’s just make that part a surprise, okay?”

                Jack was silent, clutching his sides against the cold.

                “That OKAY WITH YOU?” shouted Carly, leaning over somewhat, smirking as her brother clasped his hands over his tiny ears, already sensitive at his size but hurt even more when she yelled.  Of course, knowing this, Carly made a point of raising her voice above the necessary volume whenever she was alone with her sibling captive, just to pour salt in an already rather large wound.  To make sure the point got across, the gigantic eighteen-year-old lifted her foot just barely off of the ground, her big toe extended against the blue fabric of her sock, and prodded it into Jack’s stomach, easily knocking him over with the force of her powerful digit.  Grunting, Jack pulled himself back to his feet, but went down again as Carly rocked her foot back forward, this time slamming her toe into his face with a little more force that actually flipped Jack a few inches into the air, letting him fall painfully on his back.

                Carly chuckled again.  She doubted she would ever tire of watching her brother tumble over so easily with just a simple touch from one of her comparatively enormous fingertips or toes.  The ease with which she could literally turn his world upside down provided endless entertainment for her.  No matter how poorly the day went, no matter how much her friends talked behind her back, no matter how often she was brushed off or taken advantage of, all of it seemed to come back into moral balance when she was able to just come home, lock the rest of the world out of her bedroom, and reach into her sock drawer and pull out her favorite toy: her older brother.

                So small.  So weak.  So pathetic.  Carly often found herself almost irritated with the very existence of her brother, although she never allowed this annoyance to get the better of her for fear of permanently damaging her little pet.  If anything, this irritation had only grown in the few years that had passed since his mysterious shrinking episode that changed their relationship from that of brother and sister to slave and master.  To Carly, it was like watching an ant scurry rapidly across a sidewalk, bidding desperately for survival.   Often, the girl found herself sneering at the insect’s efforts and swiftly bringing a foot down on top of it, smashing it easily into a droplet of bug paste with her heel, right before it reached its destination.  Something so worthless, it seemed to the teenager, didn’t deserve to even have a fighting chance on the planet.  This was in many ways how she looked upon her brother with his meager stature and accompanying strength now, although she kept herself from crushing him, no matter how much the subconscious desire to do so crept into her thinking.

                “Ready… SET…” breathed Carly, eyes wide, brushing a dirty blonde lock out of her eyes and preparing to force her brother into a “game” of tag that would no-doubt end with him losing and subsequently wedged tightly into her pocket, on top of her tongue, under her sole, or some equally uncomfortable location thereof.  However, as Jack prepared to sprint fruitlessly away from his tower-sized younger sister’s ruthless rampage, the doorbell rang.  Sighing with disappointment, Carly instead leaned over toward the carpet, fingers outstretched and reaching for Jack.

                The tiny teen dashed away as quickly as he could, thinking the game had already begun, but he didn’t stand a chance against Carly’s quick-moving thumb and forefinger, which had looped themselves around his sides and plucked him high into the air before he had a chance to take two panicked breaths. 

                “Guess somebody got lucky… for now,” winked Carly with a grin, depositing her brother back into her sock drawer.  Satisfied, Carly sauntered happily downstairs toward the front door.  Tonight was date night for her parents, which meant Carly had the house all to herself until late.  Normally, she told her parents she was planning on hanging out with friends, although most of the time she instead used these occasions for playtime with her pocket-sized sibling.  Just for safety purposes, having the house all to herself meant Carly was free to do as she liked to her brother as loud, as vigorously, and as long as she wanted.

                Grasping the door handle, Carly swung it open to find her friend Deidre standing there in the smoky twilight of the evening, her head hanging, her legs shifting uncomfortably.  As they met eyes, Deidre’s pupils seemed to flutter uncomfortably, tears welled deeply in them.

                “Dee!  What’s wrong?  Are you okay?” gasped Carly with concern, stepping forward and putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

                “I’m… I’m…” stuttered Deidre, taking a step forward and almost tripping over the Welcome mat.  Carly quickly stooped to help catch her and swung her arm around Deidre’s back to help her stand up, then hobbled her inside.  As they walked, Carly noticed a distinctly indirect swagger in her friend’s steps, and already had a feeling of what was up before they even sat down so Deidre could talk.

                “Carly… I m-m-messed up again,” sobbed Deidre, burying her face in her palms and shaking, even as Carly wrapped an arm around her to comfort her.  “Really bad.  I was at this g-g-guy’s house, and he handed me a cup and just t-told me to s-s-sip it…” she breathed, her words slurring together as she struggled to string coherent thoughts together.  “I c-c-can’t go home right now, I just… can’t, I…”

                “It’s okay, Dee, I get it,” interjected Carly quickly, feeling more and more worried about this.  “You want some coffee and we can talk some more?”  Hanging her head in shame, Deidre sniffled a little and nodded.  Carly patted her friend’s arm and got up, checking the pantry for the coffee beans.

                “Oh, crap, I think we’re out.  My dad usually keeps a spare can in the garage, though.  Just wait a second for me, ‘kay Dee?” asked Carly, heading for the door.  Her friend murmured agreement, staying still.  Nodding, Carly quickly made her way into the garage and began rummaging past old boxes and shelves coated with dust.  She wasn’t entirely sure of where her dad kept the beans, so it was more than five minutes of searching before, with an exasperated sigh, Carly found them stacked under some stale boxes of cereal.  Gripping the new bean can confidently, the girl headed back inside, reading the can for the instructions.  “Sorry, Dee, I found them now… they were…” she began, looking up and finding the kitchen chair empty.  Confused, Carly waited a moment before a sound that shook her to her bones ripped through the halls of the house.

                Deidre screaming at the top of her lungs from upstairs.

                Carly had never barreled up the stairs to the landing this quickly before.  In a matter of seconds, she was dashing toward her open bedroom door, nearly tripping as she did so, and standing in the doorframe to find Deidre, eyes as wide as dinner plates, reaching shakily into the open sock drawer.  Carly remained frozen, too shocked to know exactly what to do at this second as she watched her drunken friend grip her dirty little secret out of the sock drawer and hoist him out, holding him at chest height between her fingers and examining him with terrified fascination.

                “Dee…” croaked Carly, her throat extremely dry.

                “He’s real… oh my God, that can’t be… that can’t be… he’s… he’s…”

                “Dee, please.”

                “He’s a-a-alive…” gasped Deidre, sounding as if she had just stumbled upon the discovery of the century as she prodded uncertainly at Jack’s sides with a thumb as she let him sprawl into her unsteady palm.  “The little man’s alive, Carly,” she drawled.

                “Listen, Dee,” swallowed Carly, finally regaining her bearings and realizing the only way out of the situation at long last.  “I think you’re just not feeling well.  So… whatever you think is going on… why don’t you just put the… little man… back in the drawer and come with me for some coffee?”

                “It’s like a fucking fairy tale, Carly.  A fucking fairy tale,” breathed Deidre, completely ignoring her friend as she calmly wrapped her fingers around Jack’s body, squeezing. Carly heard her brother grunt in pain as the crushing weight of the teenage girl’s soft fingers twisted painfully around his body.  “I’m holding a little p-p-person in my hand… holy… holy shit…”

                “Yeah, yeah, look, Dee, I think you seriously need to take a load off.  You’re pretty far gone right now,” said Carly, moving quickly over to Deidre and putting a hand on her shoulder.  “So why don’t we just put him down and go back downstairs?”

                Deidre turned her head over to Carly, raising an eyebrow despite not being able to maintain consistent eye contact, then frowned.  “But he is real, isn’t he, Carly?  I get drunk, but I don’t get THAT-”

                “I beg to differ, babe,” cut in Carly, reaching forward and wrapping a hand around Deidre’s fingers, relieving some of the pressure they were exerting on Jack, who by now was flushed red and whining quietly in pain.

                “NO!” gasped Deidre, jumping away and almost tripping as she leaned roughly against the wall.  She quickly brought her other hand up, cupping it over Jack’s face so that his entire body was hidden in her fist as she held him closer to her chest.  “You can’t have him!  I found him, he’s mine!”

                “Dee…” breathed Carly desperately.

                “No… wait a second…” whispered Deidre, squinting suspiciously at Carly.  “I didn’t find him first, did I?  He was in your room, but he wasn’t on the floor, he was in your d-d-drawer…”

                “Stop this, Dee, please.”

                “…and the only way he could’ve gotten in there was if you put him in there, isn’t it?”

                “He’s not real, I swear to God, it’s just a…”

                “STOP LYING TO ME!” screamed Dee, her words slurring harder than ever, her arms trembling.  Uncovering her palm from Jack, she peered down at him, blinking a few times as if trying to get him into focus, before her eyes widened.  “Oh my God… no fucking way…”

                “Dee, stop looking, there’s nothing there, put him down.”

                “That’s your brother… your… dead… brother…”

                “No it’s not,” repeated Carly like a broken record, leaning forward and grasping at Deidre’s hands delicately so as not to cause her friend to clam up and accidentally crush Jack between her palms.  “My brother ran away four years ago.”

                “That’s what I t-t-thought…” gasped Deidre, opening her hand again and allowing the weary handheld brother to tumble back into her cupped palm.  “But that’s him.  I know it.  I remember him back when we were in middle school, even… I can see all of him… his face, his arms, his legs, his…” she breathed, cracking a delighted smile, “…his little dick…”

                “Stop that!” spat Carly, becoming angry with her friend, who was beginning to take advantage of her refuge from legal trouble.  “Stop it right now and put him down!”  The feeling was equivalent to having someone rummage through her purse.  The privacy invasion was almost suffocating.

                “You’ve kept him h-hidden here all this time, haven’t you?”

                “I…”

                “HAVEN’T YOU?  Answer me, or I smush him right now!” threatened the drunken friend, her eyelids drooping, her auburn hair hanging messily over her forehead.  Slowly, she brought her thumb down on Jack’s stomach, pinning him handily to her palm and pressing down.  Jack wrapped his arms around her finger, trying to fight her off, but it was to no avail.

                “Yes… now, please… please…” whispered Carly desperately, her voice softening.  “Let him go.”

                “I don’t think so.  I bet you d-don’t want anyone to find out about him.  You’d be… you’d be so beyond fuckin’ screwed, it’s not even funny.  So… we’re gonna set up a deal.”

                “A… deal?” whispered Carly.

                Deidre nodded.  “That’s right.  Because… I kind of want a turn with him.  So, you’re gonna let me borrow your itty bitty brother for a little while, and then you can have him back.”

                “Now, wait just a SECOND, Dee!” growled Carly, growing more and more scared about this whole situation.  She was, of course, horrified to think of the kind of situation she’d be in if her secret were ever revealed to her parents, or anyone else, for that matter, but there was something else.  Something else was welling up inside her chest, still feeling like the hopeless, crushing weight of fear, but it wasn’t quite the same as the thought of inevitable persecution if her friend’s blackmail paid off.

                “That’s right.  And after you have him for a little longer, then I’ll take him back and… get to play with him for a while again.  Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.  Heck, I bet it’ll be nice for him to get away from you for a while.  He probably h-h-hates you!”

                “No…” swallowed Carly, feeling a solitary tear descend her cheek.  She knew what it was now.  The feeling.  It wasn’t the terror of being caught, or even of losing her most valued plaything.

                She was about to lose her loyal slave of a brother.  Her little muse.  Her subject.  The thing she loved perhaps more than anything else.  He was about to be ripped from her hands.  It was almost too much to bear.  Immediately, Carly felt a spark of rage igniting in her mind that quickly spread like wildfire through her body.  Tingling, the girl balled her fingers into fists and cracked her knuckles.

                “And we’re gonna have SO MUCH FUN, AREN’T WE?” giggled Deidre loudly and girlishly, her words stumbling, as she finally released her thumb and lowered a pointer finger down onto Jack’s body, tickling his stomach and watching him squirm.  “God, I can’t even believe Carly’s kept you a freaking SECRET for all this time and didn’t even want to SHARE with her FRIENDS!” she gaped, smiling widely.  “But it doesn’t matter now, because I finally get a little p-piece of you, and…” she grinned, lowering her finger and promptly using it to squeeze Jack’s member, which caused him to cringe painfully.  “…nothing on you is safe from me,” she finished, licking her lips almost hungrily.  “NOTHING.”

                “Fuck you, Dee,” grumbled Carly, who had moved a few steps away while Deidre was preoccupied with her newfound toy.

                “What the hell did you just…” asked Deidre angrily, looking up as Carly smacked her friend hard across the temple with a small marble paperweight from her desk.  Instantly, Deidre flopped to the ground, but as she did Carly grabbed at her friend’s hand, plucking her brother to safety and balling him into a firm but nonlethal embrace with her much more familiar fingers.  Sitting slowly on the bed, Carly groaned, thinking quickly as her unconscious friend murmured on the carpet.

                “I just… gotta take her back downstairs, set her in a chair, tell her she tripped coming inside…” mumbled Carly, nodding to herself.  It would work.  She knew it would.  This happened frequently enough with Deidre that NOT having a mishap while drunk would be almost unusual.  Taking a quick breather, Carly frowned as she opened her hand, looking down at her brother sprawled calmly in her palm.  For an instant, there was a sort of peace between them.  Jack’s expression was blank as he remained sitting easily in his gigantic sister’s hand, awaiting whatever was next.  Carly could hardly believe it.  She had just assaulted one of her best friends, just for Jack who, about ten minutes before, had been a sight of some contempt for her.

                “What the heck is wrong with me?” whispered Carly to no one in particular, frowning to herself before locking eyes with her brother again as she raised him up to face level.  “Why didn’t you hide, little bro?  Huh?”

                “I don’t know, she was… she was too fast, I d-d-didn’t see her…” breathed Jack, stuttering in fear.  “Please d-don’t p-punish me, Carly, please, please, I…”

                “Shut up,” sneered Carly quietly, which caused her brother to be silenced instantly, shaking her head in thought at him.  “You will not BELIEVE how much you’re going to be kissing my foot later to thank me for this.  Understand?  Like, you literally cannot even picture it, I bet.”

                “Okay.”

                “That’s all you have to say?  Just OKAY?”

                Jack swallowed hard, nodding, then spoke again.  “Thank you.”

                “You’re welcome, little bro,” said Carly before accidentally smiling a little down at her sibling, but quickly corrected herself before looking over at Deidre still lying on the ground.  “I guess I better do something about her now.”

                Carly walked cautiously through the hallway of her friend Reilly’s house, feeling the booming of the speakers blasting a dance floor song all the way from the basement.  As she passed by a door, she had to duck back as it swung open.  A girl and a guy who looked a year older than her were practically tackling each other as they made out, slamming their bodies against the wall passionately and plucking at one another’s clothes as they disappeared back into the bedroom.  Grimacing, Carly continued onward, stepping carefully between loose shirts and beer cans that littered the floor.  Despite being frequently invited to these kinds of events, she wasn’t particularly interested in being at this party for long, but she was here in search of a very specific item she knew wouldn’t be particularly difficult to find if she looked hard enough.  Finally stopping at the end of the hallway, Carly’s nostrils tingled from the distinct, exotic aroma filling the air and almost making her dizzy with its haziness.  This had to be it.

                Pushing the last door open, Carly covered her nose, ignoring her watering eyes, as a puff of smoke escaped the room.  As the limited clean oxygen in the room reached equilibrium again, Carly looked ahead at the coffee table in the room, ignoring the couple on the couch in the corner engaging in foreplay.

                Bingo.

                Moving quickly, as she wanted to leave the room as soon as possible, Carly ran to the table and scooped up a tiny pinch of weed from the table and deposited it into a Zip-Loc she had brought along to transport it.  Then, sealing it, Carly pinched her nose and ran for the door again, closing it and sealing most of the smoke back inside.  Sighing with success, Carly proudly dangled the bag of marijuana in front of her face, grinning wildly.  She, herself, was not much into the use of this substance and generally was only made to deal with irritating situations involving it, such as when guys at parties got high and came onto her in their wilder state.

                However, ever since a few days ago, when this idea had occurred to Carly, getting her hands on some of it had been her only goal.  The idea was so temptingly enticing and so full of potential for outrageous enjoyment, she couldn’t believe she had never thought to try this before.  And, most ironic of all, Carly herself had no intention of inhaling any of the stuff.  She was saving it for a very special person in her life, who would probably find this meager pinch Carly had taken to be much more potent than she.

                “Where are we going?” asked Jack quietly from Carly’s fist as his sister confidently walked through the wilderness area behind their backyard, dodging trees, fallen logs, and poison ivy as she went.

                Carly ignored Jack, gripping the backpack slung over her shoulder with her other hand more tightly, and focused instead of finding the perfect clearing about one hundred meters from their house, with plenty of trees and bushes to provide cover from any wandering eyes. 

                Not that Carly was worried, though.  Her parents were on a weekend vacation together, and had left her grandfather at the house to keep Carly out of trouble.  Luckily for her, though, her grandfather generally spent his days watching Jeopardy reruns on the couch before falling asleep and remaining there until mealtimes.  Now, as the sun was close to setting, Carly knew she and her brother would have total privacy out here in the woods for their fun.

                “Where?” repeated Jack slowly, but was quieted as Carly gingerly placed a thumb over her brother’s face, pushing on it gently enough to send a message without hurting him.

                “Patience, little bro.  We’re about there,” she remarked with a smile, stroking the top of his head with her finger before turning to look back at the forest clearing, which was just up ahead now.  Stamping over a few more clumps of dry fallen twigs, Carly stopped over a patch of powdery dirt, where the distance from the trees would be minimal.  She didn’t want to take any chances of this getting out of hand.  Kneeling on the ground, Carly set her backpack on the ground and unzipped it after setting Jack down on the ground next to her knee.  She kept one eye on him, and knew he wouldn’t be able to get very far if he decided to make a break for it before she caught him and inflicted severe consequences.  Besides, at this point, she was expecting no such attempts from him.  He had been trained thoroughly enough.  Rummaging through the pack, Carly removed two metal plates, the little baggie of weed, a pair of mittens, a lighter, and a bottle of water.

                “What’s that?  What’s going on, Carly?” gasped Jack nervously as his titanic sister calmly set the items down on the ground next to him as if she were solemnly preparing to perform major surgery.

                “Cool it, little bro.  We’re gonna have some fun tonight together,” answered Carly slyly, placing one of the plates on the ground and emptying the contents of the weed into the slightly rounded bowl of the plate before laying a mitten down on the plate opposite it.  Then, flicking a few times at the lighter’s switch, Carly ignited a flame and touched it to the weed, causing a tiny flame to spark up on it.  “And now you, squirt,” she cooed, reaching for Jack, who had no time to react before his sister’s palm was wrapping around him and lowering him toward the little patch of weed, which was by now sending up a miniature smoke stream that was already invading Carly’s nostrils.

                “Carly, is that… that… weed?” gasped Jack, squirming in his sister’s firm grip as she brought him closer to the plate.  “What… what are you d-d-doing with m-me?”

                “You’re about to hotbox, bro.  Enjoy!” she laughed, depositing Jack on top of the mitten opposite the little flame before placing the second plate on top, trapping her brother inside with the comparatively ample supply of marijuana with just enough of a crack on the edge to let in some air.  Then, with a sigh, Carly leaned back against a tree stump on the edge of the small clearing and waited.

                After almost ten minutes, Carly checked her cell phone and decided enough time had passed to get the desired effect.  Rubbing her hands together in anticipation, Carly grinned ear-to-ear and put the remaining mitten on her right hand to avoid touching the hot metal of the plate.  Fingers wiggling with anticipation, as if she were about to tear into a new Christmas present wrapped in shiny paper, Carly removed the top plate and scooped out her brother in one smooth motion.

                The smoke from the tiny pinch of weed was slowly dying down with such little air to fan the flame, but Carly knew it had more than done its job as she poured the water bottle on it, dousing the flame and causing the loose droplets to sizzle on the hot plate.  Then, moving a few feet away, Carly leaned against the stump again, removed her mitten, and cupped her brother into her palms.

                It was without a doubt one of the most entertaining sights the girl had ever been exposed to, and Carly found herself unable to contain the violent snickering as she observed her brother, high as a kite, a plane, a rocket, and the whole space station put together.  Jack’s eyes were rolling randomly from side to side, his body almost vibrating with constant motion, his limbs flailing randomly as if he was grabbing for something that wasn’t there.  Slowly, his tiny hand found his sister’s massive thumb and grasped loosely at it, which Carly couldn’t help but find to be cute.  It was like observing a newborn opossum just learning to breathe on its own.  Already pretty helpless, Jack had never been quite this vulnerable.  Carly doubted he could do a single thing to save himself if she were to tip her palm and let him tumble toward the ground.

                “Little bro?” asked Carly expectantly.  “How do you feel?”

                “I feel… I feel…” breathed Jack, clambering to his feet and trying to stay steady on his sister’s palm.  “Kinda DIZZY!”

                Carly laughed.  “Yeah, I’m sure you do.  What else do you feel?”

                Frowning, Jack looked uncertainly down at his feet and then back up at his sister’s enormous face before him, then stamped hard down on the soft skin he was standing on.  “The ground’s kind of squishy, Carly,” he said suspiciously, as if he had been the victim of some huge hoax.

                “Oh, yeah, sorry about that, little bro,” shrugged Carly.  “At least it’s soft, right?”

                “Yeah, yeah, right,” mumbled Jack.  “So… now what?”

                “Well… here’s the thing, Jackie-poo,” began Carly with a massive smirk, her eyes growing wider with glee.  “I’m not actually just your sister.”

                “You’re NOT?” gasped Jack, clearly legitimately shocked at this revelation.

                “Nope!  I’m actually a lot more than that.”
                “What are you?”

                “I am your queen and your goddess, that’s what,” replied Carly smarmily.

                Instantly, Jack dropped to his knees in his sister’s palm and began waving his arms up and down, slapping them down against the floor of flesh he was positioned on, whispering worshipful phrases in a low, deep voice.

                Carly squealed with delight, tingling with joy.  Normally, Jack was always easy to control at this size, as all it took was the simple threat of chewing or underfoot stomping to get him to do her bidding, but this was a whole new brand of fun.  So distorted had his reality become, he was engaging in the game with far more aplomb than ever before, no matter how much his gargantuan sister had threatened his personal safety before in the name of getting him to perform some humiliating task for her.  Grinning smugly, Carly raised one hand up, snatching her brother up in her fingers and bringing him closer to her face, batting her deep blue eyes almost suggestively.

                “So, little bro…” she continued, fighting back the giggles and trying to keep a serious, dignified tone of voice and expression.  “What would you be willing to do for your queen?  Your goddess?”

                “Ohhh…” drawled Jack, shivering and looking a bit overwhelmed by this gesture as Carly casually twiddled his legs between her thumb and forefinger.  “ANYTHING.  Anything you want!”  His enthusiasm was so great, Carly almost had to pinch herself to make sure it was real.  Never in her life had she heard her brother’s voice sound so optimistic and eager.

                “Tell me what you would do.  What you think would be the best thing to do,” suggested Carly slowly, unsure of where exactly to take this game, so great were the possibilities.

                “I should WORSHIP you, Carly!” gasped Jack.  “A goddess should be shown respect!  You know, like… royalty… or… some other kind of government… or… HISTORY… or…” rambled Jack, his eyes flitting faster and faster with each breathless word.  “IMPORTANT things!  You’re important!  Except you’re not a thing!” he added quickly and fearfully, getting an amused smirk out of his sister as she continued to dangle his tiny, naked, quivering body in front of her nose.  “But you’re not a PERSON, either, Carly, I swear!  You’re so much MORE than that, and you know it, and… and…”

                “Of course I’m more than a person, squirt,” giggled Carly.  “You are so right about that.  Now… tell me… what should we do with you?  What possible thing could a worthless little bug like you do for a powerful goddess like me?”

                “I don’t know,” gasped Jack quietly.  “I’m not worthy.  Of… any of it.  Of being touched by you, goddess.”

                “That’s right,” smiled Carly.  “You’re not.  In fact… I can’t have my hands on you anymore.  You’ll probably taint me,” she said with feigned disgust, lowering her hand toward the ground.  Releasing her fingers, Carly allowed Jack to tumble onto the dirt ground by her right foot.  As he rose up again, he threw himself to the ground, again waving his arms and muttering words of deep praise.

                “Why?  Why have you chosen me, oh goddess?” he shrieked, his muscles seeming to shake with more intensity by the minute.

                “Oh, I don’t know…” snickered Carly.  “You were all that was available, I guess?  Now get up off the ground.”

                “Yes, goddess!” replied Jack, leaping to his feet and almost losing his footing.

                “Get over here,” she smarmed, pointing an expectant index finger at her right foot, resting comfortably in a red flip-flop.  “You’re not worthy to touch any part of my body except what touches the ground.  Because that’s what you are.  Part of the ground.  Dirt… beneath my feet.  Nothing more.”

                “Oh, THANK YOU, goddess!” cried Jack with such excitement it almost made Carly flinch.  Subconsciously, the girl began to wonder if she had overdone it a bit on the sheer comparative volume of smoke she had exposed her brother to, but she shrugged it off.  No going back now.

                “Shut up,” she winked playfully.  “Come here.  Now.”

                “Oh… holy…” mumbled Jack with reverence, unable to finish his sentence, as he stumbled closer to his sister’s patiently waiting foot, the hazy drunkenness of his voice becoming dreamier by the moment.  Carly could practically see her tiny brother becoming disconnected from his own mind, and it was wild fun to witness for her.

                “That’s right,” smirked Carly.  “They are holy.  Now start rubbing before I decide to stomp you with them.”

                Jack wasted no more time.  Clambering up the rubbery ledge of the flip-flop, he pulled himself easily on top of his sister’s toes and slid his body up along them.  This was already a surprise to Carly; he never had shown this kind of enthusiasm for any task like this, always maintaining as much safe distance as he could without incurring her wrath.  Now, however, he was willingly throwing himself into it.  And she was loving every second of it.

                Splaying his body across the smooth, rounded top of his sister’s right bare foot, Jack began rapidly spreading his arms and legs around, massaging Carly’s appendage with speed and precision, quickly running his hands and feet over the wide, fleshy surface he found himself on.

                A tingle of intense pleasure shot through Carly’s body, making her tremble slightly as her brother continued what looked like making reverse snow angels into the top of her foot.  He had never done anything like this before, and it felt utterly fantastic.  She rolled her head backward, closed her eyes, and moaned with delight, feeling the warm euphoria rushing under her skin, basking in the sunlight trickling between the trees of this patch of the woods where they were all alone, free to engage in her fantasies as deeply as she wanted.  To Carly, this was a little patch of heaven.

                Once satisfied with Jack’s handiwork, without saying a word, Carly slipped her foot out of the flip-flop, allowing her brother to topple down into the warm, indented center of the rubbery insole.  She watched him confusedly rising back to his feet, like a pill bug flicked across a room, then stand up, staring up at her with ravenous delight.  Smiling, she knew what they were both expecting.  Bringing her foot back up in the air again, Carly slid it back into the flip-flop, the cushy ball of her foot smacking softly into Jack’s face, knocking him over and allowing him to settle nicely into place as her soft, doughy sole came down to rest right on top of his body.

                Flexing her deep arches for a moment, Carly pressed down harder, burying her brother in the cool, fleshy ceiling of her wrinkled sole as it rose and fell down on top of him without mercy, stopping with just enough pressure to inflict pain and soreness but not enough to incapacitate him.  She smiled, knowing he would know full well what was expected.

                Jack went into a frenzy at this point, rubbing his hands over every smooth wrinkle and valley of his little sister’s foot, thrusting his body against the soft skin with all the force he had, flailing and running his fingers up toward the ball of her foot.  Carly snickered, then mashed her foot down harder on top of Jack in response.

                “Stop it.  That tickles,” she giggled.

                “I’m sorry, goddess!” gasped Jack, horrified with his transgression.  “It won’t happen again, I swear, I…”

                “Stop talking and get back to work,” ordered Carly, muting her brother’s protests by molding him back into the flesh of her warm sole, twisting her heel firmly against the flip-flop and kneading the tiny naked body underneath her with skill and determination.  Over time, Carly had grown very dexterous with all parts of her body, as she had found there was no better torture method out there than anything she could do to her pathetic brother with a part of her body: her feet, of course, being a personal favorite of the girl.  “Now.  Let’s feel some more.  Lick.”

                “Huh?” gasped Jack, not so much in disbelief at the idea of an activity he had performed many times before, but somehow in shock that he was being asked to partake in a ceremony so important.

                “Lick.  My.  Foot.  Now,” grumbled Carly, arching her sole back over Jack’s body and wriggling her toes to get in a better position over him.  She needed to do no more prompting; a second later, she felt a tiny tongue flicking at the massive surface of her foot, covering as much distance as it could as Jack continued massaging her sole with such enthusiasm Carly was cursing herself for not thinking of this whole idea sooner.

                As Carly relaxed again, closing her eyes and leaning her head back again, she focused on the feelings.  The tiny, wet tapping of her brother’s tongue against her foot.  His warm body pressing itself obediently into the fleshy wall of her sole.  That feeling of ultimate power that Carly never, ever tired of no matter how often she placed her brother in his proper, lower place in life.  The tickling continued running up her leg, the warm feeling of pleasure and calm settling in.  Suddenly, however, Carly felt something else.  Something she wasn’t quite sure she had experienced in such a situation before.

                Deep within her, between her legs, Carly felt a new tingling.  A warm, pleasurable sensation emanating out from the depths of her womanhood.  Surprised at first, Carly shrugged, finding herself unsurprised with this turn of events.  Of course, she had no attraction to her brother; the very thought filled her with disgust.  As she continued sitting here in such total isolation in the forest, though, with only her personal slave working his ass off to please her at her lowliest of levels, she knew she would never find such a wonderful wholeness to her life by looking for a boyfriend or a future husband.  Nothing could compare to this.  The delicious power of it all was bubbling up inside Carly, and she could hardly stand it anymore.

                Knowing Jack would remember none of this with particular clarity, Carly moaned with happiness again as she felt her brother continuing to writhe under her foot, licking her sole with such determination that his life depended on it.  Smirking, Carly found herself amused at how easily she had convinced him she would snuff out his life if need be.  The teen had no idea how she would be able to continue on without her favorite toy in the world to see to her every whim.

                Lowering a hand toward her waist, Carly slid her palm underneath her pants and underwear, sliding her fingers into place to take advantage of this moment.

                Carly could sense the somberness in the house.  Somehow, despite her lack of need for it, she could feel the sadness even affecting her own mood.  She sat on the edge of her bed, her door closed, staring at the wall and sighing.  The fourteen-year-old knew things were going to change now.  She wasn’t sure how yet, but she knew they were.

                Her parents were both in their room, crying on each other’s shoulders as they prepared for a token funeral that was to be held in an hour in Jack’s memory.  After a few months of searching, with nothing turning up, no matter how far Mr. Arton’s contacts extended across the country in search of an answer to the whereabouts of Jack, it was decided to hold the event in honor of the lost seventeen-year-old and begin to move on.  The bright, sunny day of this hot July day belied the cold, painful feeling filling the Arton household this day.

                Carly sighed again, then looked down into her palm of her hand at her brother, curled up obediently and looking up at her blankly.

                “Mom and Dad are pretty sad,” she said quietly, a twinge of guilt filling her.

                “I know,” answered Jack hollowly, knowing his opinion wasn’t exactly being asked for.

                “That should make you feel good,” she shrugged slightly.  “All the people that cared about you when you were normal, you know?  I mean, think about it.  How many times do people say they wish they could see their own funeral so they could know who cried for them?”
                “I don’t know,” said Jack dryly.  “A lot.”

                “A lot of people are coming to this.  Most of the family, a lot of your friends, a lot of my friends… just for you.  All for you.  Doesn’t that make you feel important, little bro?” she said with an optimistic smile.

                “I don’t know.  I guess,” said Jack, breaking eye contact.

                “Look at me when I’m talking to you, you puny bug,” growled Carly, breaking the soft tone of voice for a moment by shaking her palm, jostling her tiny pet brother back to attention.  “I’m trying to say something nice for you, and all you can do is sit there and act stupid.  Don’t you know you’re going to get to see this all?”

                “Really?” asked Jack looking up at his sister with a raised eyebrow.  “How?”

                “Well… okay, let me rephrase that,” mumbled Carly with a smirk.  “You’ll be able to… hear it all.  But you’re used to not seeing a whole lot of what’s going on, anyway, aren’t you, little bro?”

                “What are you even talking about?” asked Jack, half-disinterestedly, so deep was his brokenness by this point.

                “What… you seriously can’t guess what that means at this point?  After all the fun we’ve had?  God, Jack, you’re stupider than I thought,” giggled Carly, bringing up her free hand, a long, tan stocking pinched in her fingers.  Before Jack could say another word, she had plopped him into the open fabric mouth, allowing him to tumble to the bottom like he was on a giant slide.

                “Honestly,” sighed Carly, raising up her right foot and sliding it lithely into the stocking, her leg filling the tight tube quickly, as she felt her brother pinned helplessly like a fly under her soft, smooth sole.  “What would he do if he didn’t have a sister like me?”

                Carly stared out over the wide expanse of the church hall, the pews stretching onward endlessly.  Despite the openness of the room and the fact that the lights were dimmed significantly, matters weren’t helped at all by the fact that the air conditioning had broken in the church, making things hot and sweltering for anyone there.  Carly wiped a hand across her glistening brow, breathing slowly and heavily in the muggy air.  She knew it must have been upwards of ninety degrees today.

                Slowly, a processional of family members, friends, and acquaintances, all dressed respectfully in black, strode up the aisle toward the front, where Carly and her parents were standing.  Some shook hands with them all, while closer family members wrapped their arms around them in a protective embrace, eyes welling with tears.

                God.  If only they knew.

                Mark, a friend of Jack’s, walked slowly past, nodding to Carly as he did so, receiving a solemn nod back from her.  It was all Carly could do not to grin at the beautiful irony of it all.  All of these people, so distraught and far-removed from the truth.  Thinking Jack was off somewhere far away, lying dead in a ditch or floating belly-up in a lake.

                When, in reality, he was a mere footstep away from each of them as they passed, fully alive and well. 

                Under new management. 

                And, incidentally, under his sister’s foot, snuggled against her warm flesh by the taut tug of the stocking, hidden deep within a glossy black buckle shoe Carly had picked up specifically for this event.  The shoe was a little tight on her, ensuring Jack was thoroughly plastered against her bare foot with a couple thick layers of fabric and rubbery material binding him tightly to his owner’s filthy foot.  With no room to move, all that Carly had as an indicator that Jack was still alive was the occasional quivering movement against her skin.

                Wiping her sweaty brow again, Carly sighed, again fighting back the giggles.  It was incredibly hot out here.  She couldn’t even imagine the hell her brother was in right now; the interior of her stocking had no-doubt exceeded one hundred degrees, and already, barely an hour into the proceedings, Carly could feel her foot beginning to sweat.  It wasn’t a lot: a light, sticky buttering of perspiration coating her flesh.  However, she knew this was all that was needed to increase the tortuousness her tiny brother was enduring.  The painful claustrophobia.  The sweltering heat.  The slick skin.  The no-doubt unbearably muggy, musty scent reeking from her pores at this moment.  She arched her sole, forcing her pathetic brother to readjust his position as he fought against an overwhelming mass of soft skin to avoid being squashed.

                Absentmindedly, Carly wondered whether Jack would prefer to actually be dead and in a coffin right now rather than this fate.  The thought of it was delightful to her.

                Carly’s grandmother, her eyes glistening, her chin quivering, hugged the teen tightly as she walked by, kissing her cheek lovingly.

                “It’s going to be okay, Carly,” whispered the elder Mrs. Arton.  “Don’t worry.  I’m here for you if you ever need to talk.”

                “I know, Grandma,” whispered Carly back, pretending to choke her words a little as if fighting back tears.

                “I love you, sweetie.”

                “Love you too, Grandma,” said Carly as they released each other from the hug.  She appreciated the gesture.  As she watched the people walk by, the teen again felt that same guilt beginning to sink into her at what all of these people seemed to be feeling for the boy she had hated so much before he was small enough to fit in her shoe.  So many people showing compassion and deep loss for such a selfish, unfeeling entity.  A boy many of them hadn’t even known that well.

                “What do they know?” thought Carly to herself.  “How could they understand this?  Any of it?  Why would they feel like this?  He’s my brother, and I did what had to be done to make it better for everyone.  They’ll forget him soon.  And then things will go on like they’re supposed to.”

                Wiping a slender hand over her forehead again from the heat, Carly’s gaze shifted steadily down to her shoes.  By now, the mugginess of the room was beginning to affect her a little more, as it was to everyone present, but she knew that no one here was suffering from it as much as Jack right now.  She could feel his squirming becoming more rapid, no doubt as he struggled violently for air under the unbelievable wall of her slick skin bearing down on him.  Clenching her toes against the sock, Carly could feel the perspiration between them and knew it had to be getting wetter down in that stocking prison.  Tipping her shoe forward on the front, she felt her brother’s body, slippery with her foot sweat, sliding out from under her sole, where he became nestled in her toes.  She wrapped her damp digits around any inch of her tiny sibling she could, feeling him fighting them uselessly.  She could feel his tiny, pathetic face becoming trapped between her toes.

                She could feel him shiver with disgust and agony.

                Excellent.

                An aunt walked up to Carly, her eyes also wet with tears, her arms extended to hug Carly.  Putting on her best acting face to grieve, the girl wrapped her arms around her aunt in a tight embrace.

                “He was a wonderful boy.  I know you miss him so much,” whispered the relative.

                “I do.  I do,” mumbled Carly through fake dry sobs.

                “We’re all here for you.  You’ll be all right, honey, I promise,” said the aunt before continuing onward.  Behind her came Carly’s cousin Sophie, a girl three years her junior who was constantly being compared to Carly due to their strikingly similar faces.  Her eyes welled up too, Sophie seemed not to be handling this moment quite as well.  Closing her eyes, her lip wrinkling, the tears began to flow.  Carly, a look of pity on her face, extended her arms, pulling the eleven-year-old cousin close to her, rocking side to side.

                “Shhh… shhhh… shhhh… It’s okay, Sophie, don’t cry,” whispered Carly.

                “I’m sorry,” whispered Sophie.  “I just… can’t do… this… very well.”

                “It’s all right, don’t worry about it,” said Carly maturely and protectively.

                “I was never really nice to him… I just wish I could… see him again,” sobbed Sophie, burying her face in her taller cousin’s shoulder to hide it.

                “I know.  Me too,” answered Carly, patting Sophie’ shoulder as they finished the embrace and moved on.

                “What a bunch of phonies,” thought Carly bitterly to herself.  “So much pain and suffering… I never saw any of this when they thought he was alive.  No, he only matters to them when he’s dead and they can’t do anything about it anymore.  No one appreciates him like me.  How useful he is.  How much good he can do for me.”

                Arching her sole again, Carly rubbed down hard into the stocking, which by now was fully soaked with sweat.  She could feel the puny body of her toy sibling practically stuck to the damp surface of her skin as she adjusted him, rolling him back to the center of her stocking under the ball of her foot.  While he wasn’t thrashing anymore, she could feel his chest rising and falling slowly, meaning he had passed out, probably from a combination of the extreme heat and the horrendous stench of her foot odor clouding each breath he took.  Fighting back a giggle, Carly knew that she was probably going to have to peel his sticky body right off of her sole once they finally got home.  The humiliation it would bring him to witness as he woke up to find himself glued to the bottom of his sister’s foot by her sweat would be absolutely thrilling, and the girl could hardly wait to see the look on his face.  To bask in the horror in his puny eyes as he dangled helplessly from her warm, smelly flesh, staring ahead at her wriggling toes just above his head, threatening to grab him again as soon as he freed himself. 

                With a sly smirk she managed to hide, Carly resolved to keep the damp stockings on even after they arrived back home and she removed her shoes, in order to continue her brother’s torment.  It was just too good a chance to pass up to imagine her pathetic sibling pinned against her sole, looking desperately through the fibers of his fabric prison at the floor as it came nearer and nearer with each step before he found himself mashed helplessly against the ground by the overbearing, hopelessly crushing weight of his fourteen-year-old sister’s foot.  The thought of putting him through this, chuckling loudly enough for him to hear it while walking casually through the house, would be all Carly needed to end the perfect day spent with her favorite toy brother.

                She had to admit to herself: he had brought her more joy in this brief time as her pet than in all the pointless years of the rest of his life as a normal person combined.

                Despite the fact that there was no body to bury and therefore no coffin, as Carly felt her older brother sleeping peacefully under her foot, concealed by the black shoe, she couldn’t help but feel like this was as close as it could get without him actually being dead.

                “And they’ll never take him away from me.  Ever,” vowed Carly silently and lovingly to herself, twisting her soft, muscular foot down even harder over the helpless, fragile body of her prize.

“I’ll get it!” called Carly, dashing downstairs from her bedroom to answer the front door’s bell.  Patting her hair once more to make sure it was perfectly in place and taking a deep breath to soothe her nerves, Carly opened the door and put on her biggest smile.  “Hey, Brad,” she said playfully, waggling her fingers in a wave.

                “What’s up, Carly?” answered her date, grinning and making a slightly awkward wave at Mr. and Mrs. Arton, who were both standing somewhat protectively in the hallway, arms around each other’s waists.  As Carly turned to look at them, hiding her look of great annoyance at them from Brad, they simply raised an eyebrow at her, as if giving a final warning to keep the evening clean.  Nodding knowingly at them, Carly closed the door behind herself, following Brad down the walkway to her house and to the driveway.

                “Your parents kinda nervous?” said Brad uneasily.

                “They always get like that when I go on dates… I don’t know what the problem is, I’m eighteen, for God’s sake… we’re going to college next semester.”

                Brad coughed lightly.  “You… go on a lot of dates?”

                Realizing her blunder, Carly played it off, shrugging and pinching Brad’s cheek.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

                The reality was that Carly had had a few boyfriends for brief periods throughout high school, but truly didn’t go out on a ton of dates like she had just made it sound.  She had a tight-knit group of friends, several of whom were boys, but none she would’ve felt comfortable going out on a date with.  Most of them were attractive, sure, but Carly had the impression that once they were in a parking lot together any one of them might go for her bra strap, if not worse; so, she often rejected their offers.  Most other people viewed her as snobby, and while Carly knew many of her friends weren’t terribly kind to the other students, she herself had her own very good reasons for keeping to herself.

                Or rather, one singular very, VERY good reason.

                So, when Brad, a guy Carly found to be both immensely hot and at least semi-respectful, asked her out to go to dinner and swing dancing afterward, she leapt at the chance.  The date sounded classy (not to mention luxurious, since Brad’s dad was loaded), and much more appealing than whatever combination of dry humping and hotboxing the other guys would’ve had in store for her.

                “Woah… is that a…” gasped Carly, her eyes boggling at the sight of the car in the driveway.

                “Lamborghini.  Yep,” answered Brad proudly, holding out a hand toward the impressively shining luxury vehicle.  “Not mine, obviously, it’s my dad’s.  But he… said we could borrow it for the night, you know?”

                “That’s crazy.”

                “Yeah, I know, right?  Wanna get going now?” asked Brad politely, moving to the passenger side door so he could open it for Carly to get in.

                “How ‘bout I drive?” said Carly coyly.  Brad frowned and smiled, shaking his head.

                “Ohhhh, I don’t know about that, Carly.  My dad said…”

                “…your DAD said…” interrupted Carly, moving closer to Brad and putting a finger on his nose.  “That WE could borrow the car for the night, didn’t he?”

                “Yeah, but…”

                “So… why not?  C’mon, I’ve never gotten in a single accident in two years, never even been pulled over.  What do you say?” purred Carly, using her feminine charms and good looks to her full advantage, inching closer to her date with each word.

                Reluctantly brandishing the keys, Brad nodded, handing them to her.  “As you wish, m’lady,” he said jokingly, opening the driver’s door for her and heading around to the side.  Gleefully, Carly leapt in, chuckling to herself at how easy that had been.  The ironic part for her, though, was that even if Brad had driven up in a rusty bathtub on wheels, she still would’ve wanted to drive.

                Rotating the ankle of her right foot, Carly smiled down at the navy blue modest heel she had chosen to wear this evening, and wrapped her knuckle against the side.  Giggling, she felt wild thrashing from underneath her warm, wrinkled sole, desperately bidding for escape but knowing it was impossible.  If anything, she knew Jack wasn’t really trying to escape from his sister’s shoe and more just trying to appease her since, after all this time, he had well-learned that when she wore him in her footwear, she liked him fighting it uselessly the entire time.  Kicking at her heel, punching at the ball of her foot, wrestling with her toes... the works.  If he didn’t play the part and instead accepted his fate, he was usually subject to more severe stomping than usual as Carly walked on him.

                She chuckled again.  He had learned well.

                “What’s so funny?” asked Brad, taking a seat and buckling up.

                “Ohhhh… Nothing, nothing, just remembered something funny my dad said earlier today…”

                “Okay, well… there’s the ignition, just try to be careful when you… OOOMF!” coughed Brad as Carly, in one swift and smooth motion, inserted the key into the ignition, twisted it hard, revved the engine, and switched gears to reverse before slamming her right foot authoritatively down onto the pedal, sending them zooming down the driveway and into the street.  As she pressed down onto the pedal with her heel, Carly could feel the doughy flesh of her sole molding itself possessively over her brother’s frail form as he made a valiant effort to continue fighting, but finding himself unable to move whenever she pressed down on the gas pedal that hard.

                “I’ll give him that time as a break from the fighting,” thought Carly smugly to herself, switching gears again and pumping her foot down onto the pedal again, sandwiching her tiny brother between a cascading wall of sweltering flesh and the hard insole of her shoe.

                “Carly… seriously, just… just slow down, I’m serious now,” said Brad meekly, gripping the sides of the seat nervously as they roared down the road at least ten miles in excess of the speed limit.

                “Oh, don’t worry about a thing, Brad, I’ve driven one of these before,” smiled Carly, slamming her foot down harder and making them lurch forward in order to catch a yellow light.

                Never had the teen so much enjoyed driving a car.  She had, of course, done this to her brother before, but never in a car like this, with so much power.  The animalistic growl of the engine just made her more thrilled to go faster, applying more pressure and hammering her sole down on Jack’s puny form.  It made her feel positively alive, which was more than her brother was probably feeling at the moment.  She chuckled again.

                “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but… are you sure you’re not high or something, Carly?” Brad asked nervously, intrigued but nonetheless wary of Carly’s overly giddy and thrilled mood. 

                “Not at all.  Just… lovin’ life, you know?”

                “I can see that,” he smirked, his voice trailing off.

                “Why?”

                “Because… you know, this car's pretty valuable, and…”

                “The car, hmm?” Carly asked simply.

                “You too, of course!” he added quickly, writing it clearly off as a joke.  “Don’t get me wrong.”

                “Oh, I don’t think I do,” Carly added with a smirk.  “This the place you were talking about?”

                “Yep.  GTS Steakhouse.  It’s great.”

                “What’s the GTS stand for?” Carly asked curiously, putting on the turn signal and swerving somewhat recklessly into the parking lot of the classy-looking restaurant.

                “Oh, geez… I used to remember… I think it’s just the owner’s name or something.”

                “Kinda self-centered, huh?” Carly laughed.

                “Yeah.  Sorta…”

                “Let’s just decide it’s called… Geraldine Typhenius Stratford,” Carly added contently, quietly amused by her own odd joke.

                “Um… okay, sure, sure, anything you want, babe.”

                “What?”

                “Nothing.”

                “Okay,” Carly continued uncertainly, keeping her eyes on the road and mentally noting to herself that her brother would’ve laughed hysterically at the joke rather than making a face.

                “Are you pretty comfortable here?  I can ask them to move us if you want to a better spot,” Brad said pleasantly, unrolling his napkin and removing the silverware, careful not to push over the low-sitting, dimly lit candle in the center of the table.

                “Um, no I’m… fine,” Carly said, nodding to herself and patting her lap nervously.

                “Is something wrong?  You look a little…”

                “I’m fine,” Carly insisted quickly.

                “You don’t think it’s a nice place?”

                “I didn’t say that,” Carly snickered with some discomfort.  “I guess I’m just not used to these kinds of places.  “Fancy” for me is… like… Applebees, or something…”

                “I gotcha.  Well, I guess it does look a bit much from that perspective,” Brad agreed, looking around him before pushing out his chair and standing up.  “I’ll be right back.”  Carly nodded to her date before he turned and headed briskly for the restroom on the other side of the establishment.

                With a soft groan, Carly reached with her hands past the floor-length table cloth and fished down to her heel, sliding her fingers into the back and slipping it off, allowing it to drop to the ground.  As she arched her foot upward, she released her warm toes from their clenched position, which allowed Jack, who had been trapped between them, to tumble downward into his sister’s massive palm.  She quickly gripped him and brought him slowly and stealthily up to her lap, where she let him sit between her legs on the uneven terrain of her skirt.

                “Can you believe him?” she whispered with annoyance down to Jack.  “It’s our first date, or… or whatever this is… and… and… with this fancy place, and calling me babe, and…” she mumbled uncertainly, sighing at last.  “I don’t really know how to do this.”

                Jack looked up at her somewhat blankly, clearly worn out and hardly able to stand up after the painful roller coaster ride he had endured under his sister’s foot.  He shrugged up at her, scratching the back of his head with equal discomfort as he flopped down on his side from exhaustion.

                Carly giggled under her breath.  “You’d think you’d be used to this by now and not act like you just ran a marathon.  C’mon, it’s not so bad.  I even put a ton of perfume on myself so I’d smell nice; it’s gotta smell a little like flowers down there.”

                Jack nodded, swallowing hard, and peeped out an answer.  “Yeah, a little.”

                “Darn right it does,” Carly answered with false indignation, sliding her fingers back around her brother’s sides and picking him up closer to her face.  “Like a basket of roses and tangerines and sugar and spice and whatever,” she winked playfully at him, bringing him up to her lips and shifting her tone as she breathed heavily onto his chilly, nude body.  “What do you think it is?  What’s his deal?”

                “He’s probably intimidated,” Jack offered simply as he remained motionless in his sister’s casual grasp.

                “Yeah, no shit,” Carly murmured.  “But geez, is he overcompensating!  I mean, did you see the way he walks?  What is he even intimidated about?  He’s the one with all the money and stuff.”

                “He probably isn’t used to his dates looking like you,” Jack said with a smile.

                “Like what?”

                “Pretty.”

                Carly studied his face.  She didn’t know how much of him was lying and how much of him was just playing along.  All she knew was that it felt good to hear someone offer her some simple praise rather than trying to win her over in a grandiose, self-perpetuated instant.  Gently, she pressed Jack’s face into the plush, pink flesh of her mouth and kissed him before lowering him back to her lap.  “That’s why you’re my favorite brother, little bro.  Do you want to go back in now?”

                Meekly, Jack nodded his head no.

                Carly shrugged and slid her foot back into her shoe, minus its passenger.  “I guess if we’re going dancing later, you’ll have plenty of time down there anyway…”

                Jack’s eyes bugged out of his face with fear.  Carly snickered again.

                “What?  I need you to cushion my steps.  These shoes look good but they kinda suck for swing dancing.”

                Jack looked like he wanted to throw up from fear.

                “Only kidding, little bro, geez!  I mean, mostly… I’ll just keep you in the front of my shoe so your cute little skull doesn’t get smooshed like a grape, deal?”

                Before Jack could respond, Carly looked across the dark restaurant and spied Brad emerging from the bathroom.  Wadding Jack back into her fist, Carly looked down at her body, thinking quickly, then grinned to herself before propping the neck of her blouse up a little with her thumb.

                With a quick unrolling of her fingers, Carly allowed her brother to tumble down the interior fabric slope of her shirt.  She felt his tiny hands latching around her bra strap and hanging on for dear life.

                “Drop something down your shirt?” Brad chuckled as he arrived back at the table, taking a seat again.

                “Huh?  Oh, yeah… the straw wrapper fell down there after I opened it…”

                “Ah.  Well, you know… there was no need to get it out,” he added slyly, grabbing a hunk of bread from the basket and biting off a piece.

                “There… wasn’t?” Carly proceeded uncertainly.

                He shrugged.  “Well… you know, I could’ve… gotten it out for you… if you wanted.”

                Carly coughed under her breath, finally understanding where this was going.  As well, she could feel her brother’s tiny legs kicking harder and harder at the skin between her breasts as his grip started to give out, so she quickly tucked a thumb into her chest, jamming Jack behind the bra strap and halfway into the left cup of her bra.  She could feel him thrashing violently before clambering more fully inside the cup and coming to a rest, pinned heavily against Carly’s breast by the thick, curved surface of the cup.

                She smiled warmly to herself.  He really was learning.  More and more, every day, he was adjusting: doing things without having to be asked and punished first to make him do them.  Working, obeying, worshipping her.  Truly becoming her very own pet brother.  Maybe it was out of a desire to avoid the punishment rather than his own crazy love, but Carly didn’t really care about that as much.  What mattered to her was that he was listening.  That he was hers.  That she was in control, and he was okay with going along with it for his own benefit.

                Her eyes rose back up to make contact with Brad’s.  He was grinning snidely, his face smoldering a little for her.  He was obviously milking this moment for all it was worth.

                Carly’s upper lip curled as she stared at his face.  So confident.  So arrogant.  So self-assured.  So domineering.  She could tell already.  He had decided exactly where this evening was going before they even set foot in his car, and all of his pleasant formalities beforehand were just cover-ups.  She could see now the absolute lust in his eyes, undressing her mentally.  He wanted her body so desperately.  He didn’t care about her, or her needs, or meeting those needs no matter the cost to himself.

                Not like Jack did.

                “You could’ve gotten it for me, hmm?” Carly answered dryly, the date souring more and more for her with each passing second.

                “You bet, baby.  And I’m… very good at it, too.  I’m something of a fisherman,” he answered coolly. 

                “And I’ll bet you do it all the time.”

                “Oh, sure, but not like you’d think.  It doesn’t matter.  When I’m fishing, all I’m thinking about is me…” he continued, his arm sliding easily across the table and closer to Carly’s wrist.  “…and the fish.”

                “And if you like fishing,” Carly continued, matching the lustful tone of her date.  “Then I’ll bet you’re pretty used to things getting… wet.”

                “The wetter, the better,” Brad whispered under his breath, his hand snaking up Carly’s smooth arm and up to her blouse, where, without hesitation, he cupped his hand around Carly’s left breast.

                “Then let’s get wet, you piece of shit,” Carly grumbled, and in one motion she had grabbed the ice water cup and doused Brad in it.  He yelped from the cold, throwing himself back against his seat and looking absolutely dumbfounded, accidentally knocking the bread basket to the floor in the process.  The restaurant seemed to fall silent, with waiters stopping in their tracks and the surrounding diners turning in their chairs to view the drama.

                “You little bitch.  Who the hell do you think you are?” Brad snarled, wiping the back of his hand across his sopping bangs.  A couple of gasps broke out from the restaurant goers, who could now overhear the whole conversation in the quiet.

                “Is there a problem over here, honey?” a middle-aged waitress asked sweetly to Carly, coming to stand behind her protectively.

                “Yeah.  You might say that,” Carly said simply.

                “That so?” the waitress answered simply, raising an eyebrow at Brad.  There was no smile on her face.

                “Carly, what the… what…” Brad mumbled, his tone softening but his confusion clearly only worsening.  “How can you do this to me?  After I brought you here and all.  What kind of girl are you?  We… we were working so well together, and…”

                “Maybe you were working well with yourself.  So why don’t you take that hand of yours and go stick it between your own two legs?” Carly remarked sardonically.

                “I can get girls worth ten of you to love all over me any time I want,” Brad answered angrily as a waiter walked up to him, tapping him on the shoulder and grunting softly, indicating it was time for him to leave.  “Any.  Damn.  Time.  I.  Want.”

                “Fine.  Then go do them.  They’re probably a lot easier, anyway,” Carly finished, standing up to leave.  “I’m worth a lot more than that.  Besides, I’ve got all the love I need already,” she smiled, patting her palm over her heart and feeling her brother’s tiny body inhaling and exhaling slowly against the warm flesh of her breast inside the bra cup.

                “What the hell have you got in there, anyway?  It was all…” Brad muttered as the waiter grasped his arm and tried to pull him up, interrupting his sentence.  “All right, all right, pal, I got you!  Let go of me!”

                “Thanks for a lovely evening, Brad,” Carly stated in her trademark sugar-sweet voice, and without another word headed for the door of the restaurant, marching confidently out into the cool evening air.  She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, which had seemed so far gone inside the hoity-toity nonsense world of overt elegance the people inside seemed to think they exuded.  Especially Brad.  Carly could see now that he was no different than the others.  Worse, even.  With a sigh, she kicked the uncomfortable heels off and let them sit in the grass for a moment.

                “It’s better out here, anyway,” Carly said simply, looking over across the street from the restaurant at the other shops that were more her style.  She arched her foot against the soft earth, letting the cool grass blades slide softly between her toes and invigorate her.  She pinched the fabric of her shirt at the neck and peered down inside, allowing the bra cup to tip open slightly.  “Want a burger or something, little bro?” Carly said lovingly down into her bra.  “Or… you know, whatever the equivalent is for a shrimp like you.  Like a shrimp cocktail.”

                “Fine,” Jack said simply, unpeeling himself from the tanned, sweaty flesh contained inside his sister’s bra so he could look up at her.

                “You didn’t think that was funny?”

                Instantly, Jack’s face changed to that of a smile, and he chortled weakly a few times.  “It was.  You’re right, Carly.”

                “Good to hear it.  I’ll let you out in a few minutes, then,” Carly giggled, covering her shirt back up and heading toward the curb of the street.  She didn’t care that his answer was fake.  All that mattered was that he knew he had to say it.  He understood better than any other man she thought she would ever meet how much she was worth. 

                She was no longer an ordinary girl, and she never had been.  She was a goddess through and through, and every time she wanted to remind herself of it, she just had to pat her hand against the warm body lodged inside her bra.  Close to her heart, like always.

                “Love you more than anything, bro.  More than you could ever know,” Carly whispered down her shirt, a big grin spread across her brightly angelic face.

                “Look, Jack, all I’m saying is that it’s a possibility!” Carly said brightly as she leaned against the headboard of her bed, running her fingers through her dirty blonde locks and batting her full lashes playfully.  She closed her eyes and tilted her chin up toward the ceiling before peering back down toward the end of the bed.  “You know?”

                “Yeah, yeah,” Jack answered lifelessly, coughing a little as he huffed oxygen in short breaths.

                “You’re just saying that, aren’t you?” Carly frowned, clenching her toes together a little more tightly around her little brother’s puny body.  She arched her right foot forward as she lithely lifted her bare leg up in the air, holding Jack precariously above the moon-like surface of her pink bed sheet.  “Aren’t you?”

                “N-N-No!  No, I… I agree,” Jack gasped desperately as he stared down the long slope of his sister’s smooth, athletic leg like a mountain cliff of tanned, toned flesh.  He felt dizzy, his vision going a little fuzzy, partially from fear, and partially because Carly’s toes were squeezing him so tightly it was hard to stay completely oriented.  He had a feeling this was the vile seventeen-year-old’s intention.

                “Well, that’s better, I guess,” Carly snorted with annoyance, crossing her arms.  “YOU, better than anyone, should know how right am I.  Shouldn’t you?”

                “Yes,” Jack answered meekly, feeling the soft, firm skin between his gargantuan sibling’s toes easing their grip on his waist ever so slightly.

                “It’s not a bragging thing, believe me,” Carly chuckled good-naturedly all of a sudden.  “I mean, I’m not saying that I’m the one that did all this.  It was really just… chance, I guess.  Fate.  Whatever.  I don’t even know if I believe all that, all I know is that is happened, and that it’s important somehow.”

                “Important to what?” Jack whimpered, hanging his head a little as he remained limply gripped between Carly’s naked, dexterous toes, the nails of which were glistening with a freshly painted hot pink coat.

                “Well, the WORLD, you silly weirdo!  To… to history!  Like… think about it.  Men lorded over women for centuries.  We were always the inferior ones, just because we couldn’t always defend ourselves against the big, strong, scary men.  It didn’t matter that we were so much smarter or more peaceful, or that we understood how stuff worked… it just mattered that men could hit us harder than we could hit them back,” Carly contemplated thoughtfully, not even making eye contact with Jack anymore as she stared wistfully up at the ceiling.

                Jack struggled helplessly, surrounded on all sides by toe flesh, and half-listened praying only that this conversation wouldn’t give Carly any new ideas.

                “But you know, what, Jack?  Things have a way of falling back into place in the world.  You know, back to the way they’re supposed to be?  The way they’re… meant to be?  Take you, for example,” she giggled piously.  “We spent a whole 14 years together scrambled around all wrong.  But sure enough, things went back the way they were always meant to be.  You know why I keep you down there, right?  Between my toes.”

                “I have an idea,” Jack simpered as calmly as he could.

                “Well, for one thing, I know you have a little… thing… for them,” Carly snickered.  “And far be it from me to be a huge jerk about all this, so it’s only fair to let you play on them sometimes.  But no, that’s not the real reason.”

                Jack mentally rolled his eyes.  Sometimes?  More like almost every waking moment.

                “No, the REAL reason is just… symbolic.  A reminder.  Like the way a queen sits on her throne and her subjects have to bow before her.  Just like that, I keep you down there at my feet, between my toes, so that you’ll remember where you belong.  Your place in all of this.  In history.  It’s not just me that has the right to do this to you, Jack, I’m sorry to say.  It’s all women.  It’s just that… well, you’re the first one that the world has corrected, I guess.  You’re the only man I know who’s FINALLY been fixed.  You’re the only one I could even fit between there.  Believe me, if there were more of you… GOD, it would be so fantastic.  A man between every toe, wrapped around every finger, strung between my teeth, tied up in my hair, stitched into my panties…” Carly drawled dreamily, obviously getting extremely wrapped up in the very idea of such a reality.

                Jack groaned quietly.  He had no doubt every word his sister was uttering right now was the absolute truth in her mind.

                “People like Joan of Arc, or Susan B. Anthony, or Rosa Parks… and now me!  Think about it, Jack.  We have to keep this hidden for now.  You and me, I mean.  What you are to me now.  But… but someday.  Soon, I feel like.  Soon, we’ll see stuff like this happening again.  It’s science.  They’ll find a way, and I know it’s possible to turn your kind into the bug you’ve become,” Carly droned dreamily, gingerly tapping her pointer finger against her cheek in thought, smirking as she descended deeper into her wonderfully apocalyptic world vision. 

                Jack’s eyes began to water stressfully as his young sister’s doughy digits curled more tightly back around him, her entire foot steadily bobbing up and down, arching and stretching, to the beat of some pop song no-doubt rebounding merrily around her head.  Unheard by the world, but felt even more than the girl herself by her shrunken slave, feeling every vibration of the beat, every little silent tic, rattling his bones with a simple thoughtless twitch of her digit.

                “We’ll be in history books.  Both of us.  Someday there’ll probably be a museum about us,” Carly piped suddenly with renewed zeal.  “I mean, it’ll mainly be about me, because I’m the woman who finally stood up to you and put you where you belong, but you’ll get mentioned somehow, I’m sure.  Or at the very least, when they make a big, giant bronze statue of me, you’ll be able to see your pathetic little body under my shoe.”

                “YOU DIDN’T STAND UP TO ME.  YOU TOOK ME, LIKE YOU FUCKING OWNED ME,” Jack wanted to scream, but instead stifled into the cold, nearly lifeless sections of his brain that could still process emotion coherently.  The repetition of the words in his head was all that could even begin to satiate him these days, as he continued squirming painfully between his sister’s fruity, freshly lotion-smeared toes.  “I WAS ALONE AND COLD AND SCARED AND YOU HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT, YOU JUST TOOK ME BECAUSE THERE WAS NO ONE ELSE THERE AND YOU THINK YOU’RE A GOD, YOU SICK CUNT.”

                “And think: once they figure out how you shrunk, then we can start testing it, seeing where it goes, and before you know it: women will be right where we should be.  Over you.”

                “You’re just as bad as us, then,” Jack thought bitterly.

                “Think of what the world will be once we’re in power.  There won’t be marriages or any of that crap anymore.  There’ll just be a woman and HER men.  A lot of them.  Why be limited to one gross little midget man when we could have enough to actually SATISFY us?”

                “Because you’re too much of a goddamned monster, that’s why,” Jack mouthed subtly.

                “And once I’m the queen of this place?  FORGET about everything you know.  It’s gonna be like something nobody’s ever seen around here, not now and not ever.  Governments all run by women, all making the rules.  You maggots get nothing.  Schools where girls learn and get all the opportunities at any place they want.  You guys get worn as accessories or as little servants so we can focus better on improving the world.  Families: when a boy’s born, he just gets shrunken as soon as he can do a few things for himself.  When a girl’s born, she gets her brothers, however she wants them, whenever she wants them; keep them in a little cage with a hamster wheel, or wrap them around her big toe and never look back.  Just like me.  And that’s what we’re doing here, Jackie-poo.  We’re the start of a revolution.  We’ve got the whole world… in my hands.”

                “Sounds worse than fucking Nazi Germany,” Jack cursed to himself, feeling his body steadily slipping out from the grip of his sister’s toes as she lost focus, his legs bumping uncomfortably against the firm, rotund ball of her massive foot.

                “Oops!  There he goes, down the slide!” Carly snickered, covering her mouth politely as she giggled, arching her foot so as to make it as diagonal as possible as Jack tumbled sorely down the uneven slope of wrinkled flesh, landing in a heap before the cushiony altar of her heel.

                “Imagine the things we could do with all of you and your kind.  Scientific research where we never have to hurt another innocent animal, it’ll just be you, who deserve what’s coming to you.  Artists sticking you up on a canvas with pins and just… watching what comes next, the beautiful stuff we could create with you.  Out of you.  Nutrition: I mean, maybe there’s something to tasting one of you.  I can’t really bring myself to do it on you because you’re all I’ve got and then I’d get bored while you were twisted up in my intestine somewhere, but still, sometimes I wonder…”

                “Sometimes I wonder, too,” Jack thought grimly to himself, remaining motionless on the bed, knowing getting up was futile.

                As half-expected, an instant later he found shadow swallowing him up followed by the softly crushing weight of his sister’s skin compressing into him until he was sandwiched like a trapped fly against the bed sheet, unable to speak aloud and barely able to breathe, save for a tiny crack of air that wound like a maze through the tapestry of tiny, subtle wrinkles in Carly’s sole as it ground him harder and harder into the surface of the bed.

                “This is the exact pose I’m having my statue made in,” Carly stated proudly, holding her chin up high and tucking her hands behind her head again as a pillow, sighing as she continued twisting her warm, heavy foot over the frail form of her brother, lying inert and cold beneath her.  “So I guess I changed my mind: people won’t be able to see you in the statue, after all.  So maybe you’ll just get a little plaque or something at the bottom and it’ll just say you’re under there.  I think people will understand, don’t you, little bro?”

Carly leaned forward intently, eyes wide and glowing with glee, lips spread into an unstoppable smile, as she observed the events unfolding across the television screen.  Slowly, she plucked another popcorn cluster from the small, damp bag she had in her lap and pushed the moist yellow puff against her lips, sliding her fingers slightly into her mouth where she suckled the greasy butter off the tips before slipping them back out again, leaving the popcorn atop her moist tongue.

                The riveting action on the meager TV Carly’s parents allowed her to keep in her bedroom continued explosively.  A small building came crashing down.  Cars, honking their horns madly, were smashed into the dust and fire unfurling ruthlessly.  Screaming people were swallowed up by the onslaught, and those who remained were forced to stare up into the darkness of the night as a figure emerged through the thick smoke.

                A smooth, shapely leg with the thickness of a school bus burst through the cloud of destruction, followed by a bare foot larger than a car smashing with incredible impact into the street, instantly crunching a BMW beneath the massive, meaty sole like a soda can.

                “WHERE is my husband?” a terrifying feminine voice from far above roared as the face began to appear, the brunette hair, gorgeous and horrifying as it billowed in incredible tangles against the broad shoulders, bouncing and catching pieces of ash.  A hand extended from the dark dust, and then an arm, slender fingers outstretched just as a news helicopter swooped into view, far too close to the event.

                Instantly the smooth fingers were wrapped possessively around the unprepared helicopter, which was dwarfed by the palm of the giant woman’s hand like a plastic toy, its blades immediately brought to a screeching halt, bent entirely out of shape and leaving no visible mark on the seemingly tender skin.

                “I said…” boomed the woman’s voice as the character finally came fully into view, for a moment ignoring the billowing smoke and the horrified screams of the ant-like people scurrying away between her ankles.  “Where is my HUSBAND?”  Slowly, she drew the remains of the helicopter in closer to her face, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, lips pursed, her flushed skin practically quivering with rage.

                “Hey, little bro, don’t miss this, it’s like the best part,” Carly giggled excitedly, tossing another popcorn kernel casually into her mouth.  “Can you believe Olivia Wilde didn’t get an Oscar for this part?  Not even a Teen Choice or something?  It’s crazy.”

                “We don’t KNOW, Nancy… I… I mean, Mrs. Archer, honest!” cried the terrified news reporter onscreen from the helicopter as he watched the front window of the chopper straining against the immense strength of the 50-foot-woman’s thumb.  For an instant, he stared, gape-jawed, at the awesome size of the thumb, pressed powerfully against the glass and leaving an impossibly large print.

                “Then you’re just as useless as the rest of them,” the spurned giant woman sneered.  With almost surgical precision she crunched her fingers hard into the cavities of the helicopter, watching with disinterest as the metal was rolled like a tin can into her massive fist.  Finally satisfied, she threw the balled up vehicle down towards the ground, allowing it to roll with a few painful screeches down the road, where it bowled to the sidewalks a few cars that were still desperately trying to drive away.

                The woman smiled, nodding to herself.  “A perfect strike.  And don’t you worry, Harry, no matter where you try to hide, I will find you!” she bellowed with so much rage and meaning that as Carly watched, for an instant, she was able to believe that Olivia Wilde was several stories tall and rampaging across the downtown area.

                “Hey… what gives?” Carly whispered in annoyance, clicking the pause button on the video player and sliding her hand under the sheets of her bed in search.  “You’re missing awesome stuff, little bro.  It almost looks real.”

                There was no response.

                “Come on, Jackie-poo, back when you were the wrong size I thought you loved all the geeky tech stuff like that, I thought you’d like this.  I mean, if you don’t wanna have a little fun with your big lovey sissy, then I’m sure there are plenty of other things we can do.”

                Finally, feeling her fingers brush against the tiny leg of her shrunken sibling, Carly grinned and slid her digits around his ankle, dragging him roughly along the length of the bed and up from under the covers.

                Holding Jack by one leg, dangled, Carly raised an eyebrow, chuckling and letting a pitifully amused smile show.

                “What’s the deal, bro?  Why are you ignoring your favorite big sister?”

                “I… I wasn’t, Carly, I swear,” Jack huffed frantically.

                “What were you doing under there, anyway?  It’s freaking summertime, it’s hot under there.”

                “You… you… y-y-you told me t-to, Carly, you… told me I should go…”

                “I told you to ignore me and go on a random little jog where I can’t see you?  You know I don’t like it when I don’t know right where you are, little bro.  Do I have to remind you about that?”

                “NO!” Jack squeaked with terror, warranting another adoring giggle from Carly.  Personally, she found it to be the cutest thing in the world when her tiny brother was scared beyond his wits just because she had uttered a few sentences to him.  “I… I mean, n-n-no, p-please, Carly, I was under there because you told me y-your right heel itched, so I was…”

                “Oh, yeah, I remember,” Carly frowned, glancing at the digital clock next to her bed.  “That was like ten minutes ago, what are you doing still under there?”

                “I… sorta got lost, I mean… I d-didn’t wanna fall off the edge,” Jack peeped fearfully, his body appearing to get sore from being hung upside down for this length of time.

                “It’s not hard, little bro, you just follow my legs back to the promised land.  How’d you end up in the corner down there?”

                “I d-don’t know…”

                “You sure you weren’t trying to take a little vacation on your own?  Without telling big sissy first?”

                “No!”

                Carly smirked again, shaking her head in feigned disbelief and finally unpinching her fingers from around her brother’s leg, allowing his tiny naked form to plop into her waiting palm.  Righting himself, Jack crawled onto his knees, looking up at his sister’s face.

                “Because… you must know…” Carly began dramatically, winking playfully at her brother.  “… Harry…”

                “Huh?”

                “Don’t you worry.  No matter where you try to hide, I will find you.”

                “Carly, p-please understand, I wasn’t…”

                “Shush.  Maybe if you’d paid attention to the movie you’d know what you’re supposed to do now.”

                “What?”

                Carly rolled her eyes with irritation at Jack’s inability to engage in the game.

                “You’re no fun when you’re like this, you, little bro?  You used to be so smart.  I remember because Mom would always give me crap when you came home with straight A’s every semester and I’d have, like, two C’s at most.  I mean, c’mon, you know why that was?”

                “Why?”

                “Because you never did anything besides school.  You had a couple of your weird nerd friends, but I was out there doing things.  You know, having fun.  Didn’t you ever have fun, Jackie-poo?”

                “Y-Y…”

                “Don’t be scared of me, I’m not interrogating you,” Carly seemed to snap as she observed the little figure on his knees in her warm palm.  “Seriously.”

                “Y-Yeah.”

                “Don’t be stupid, of course you didn’t.  I saw you.  You went out like maybe once a week, and the rest of the time you were just in front of your stupid computer writing your whatever-programs.  How the heck is that supposed to be fun?”

                “Carly, I…”

                “But now you’re just a little moron,” Carly frowned, causing Jack to quake again.  She beamed.  “You’re my little moron, though, so it’s totally cool and stuff.  And besides, with that hungry little dick of yours, it’s no wonder you can’t think anymore.  All the blood you had in that smart little head of yours is in your… other head now.”

                “Please, Carly, I’m sorry, just…”

                “Stop trying to change the subject when I’m talking to you, little bro.”

                “Sorry.”

                “That’s better.  Now.  Let’s have some real fun, huh?  How about a ride with your sports car?”

                Carly could see the dread forming in Jack’s eyes and it filled her with undeniable pleasure.  She could feel his little knees trembling against the soft skin of her hand, which she could feel slowly beginning to perspire with her own steadily rising adrenaline.  That euphoric rush she got every time she held her pet in her hands and was able to bask in unquestionable power without a single thought of the outside world invading her mind.  It was returning as it always did.

                “Well, how about it, Jackie-poo?  Can you answer me?  Can your brain work?”

                There was no response as Jack’s jaw quivered.

                “Because, you know, if your brain isn’t working, then obviously something else is right now…” Carly threatened with all the sweetness in the world, slowly bringing her other hand up to Jack’s still-kneeling body, his junk on full display.  His pathetic attempts at modesty in the presence of his goddess had faded long ago.

                She saw him blush and lean down a little in a last-ditch effort to shield himself a little and perhaps deflect his sister’s suggestion.

                As if.

                “Don’t be such a little wussy.  If you don’t wanna drive your car, I’m game for whatever else you think we could do.  I’ve got some ideas, but I don’t think you’d like them very much, or…” Carly sighed sultrily, gingerly prodding her pointer finger between Jack’s tiny legs.  “…maybe you would.”

                The shrunken brother trembled, both out of disgust and fear that with much more encouragement his owner was going to get the exact reaction of him that she wanted, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

                Carly knew how to will a hard-on out of his puny member with just a few choice strokes and caresses.  Jack could delay the inevitable by concentrating on terrible images in his mind, but with all the pain his life usually entailed, the occasional break from it with those massive, soft fingers gliding over his body to comfort him made it impossible to resist.

                “Looks like somebody’s being a cute little prude today,” Carly giggled, tickling her shrunken pet’s genitals with the tip of her gentle finger as he continued leaning forward to no avail as his sister’s gargantuan finger kept him propped up enough in the wide expanse of her palm to ensure his forced compliance with her game.  “Can we get that little baby penis to wake up?  Or should we play something else?”

                “Something… else… please…” Jack groaned with exasperation, already beginning to lose his grip on what was right as the giant firm finger slid back and forth between his thighs, coaxing him so easily, his mind strained at one of a million reminders that his titanic little sister could play him like a harp from any angle no matter the circumstances.

                “Fine,” Carly shrugged, sounding a little disappointed, knowing all along this was the end goal.  “Your call, little bro.  We’ll play cars instead, like you seem to want.  Besides, I’ve got a fun surprise for you.”

                “W-What does that mean?” Jack dared to squeak as his tall sibling slid her shapely legs off the bed and planted her smooth bare feet with a soft thud on the carpet.

                “Jackie-poo, what have I always said about surprises?”

                “I d-don’t know if you’ve ever said any-”

                “I always say,” Carly interrupted, knowing Jack had called her playful bluff.  “That it’s not a surprise if you know what’s coming.”

                “Right.  How dumb of me,” Jack mumbled under his breath as his sister’s fingers clasped around his body, her thumb as usual slipping between his legs and allowing his crotch to rest precariously on top of it, just to remind him of his place.  This moment in particular was made all the worse, though, as Carly’s thumb was still a little damp and greasy with leftover popcorn butter and salt.  The scent was intoxicating and created an incessant itch on Jack’s stones, but he dared not scratch the itch for fear of Carly turning any motion at all into a suggestion on his part that they return to the previous game.

                “Aaaand here we go, my little racecar driver,” Carly announced proudly, opening her closet door and carefully reaching onto a shelf behind rows and rows of stylish clothing.  Slowly, her hand returned, gripping a bright green toy car about five inches in length with tiny plastic opening doors.

                “Oh, shit…” Jack grumbled to himself.

                “What was that?” Carly snapped.

                “Nothing.  Just… excited.”

                “Of course you are, Mr. Daytona 5 and a half,” Carly snickered, her sugary smile returning as she tossed her ponytail-bound hair over her shoulder.  “Now, in you go!”

                “Carly, couldn’t we talk about this, I… oomf!” Jack grunted as his sister wadded him roughly into the driver’s seat of the toy car, her fingers poking and prodding rudely at him to get him securely into the seat.  Despite his miniscule size, Jack was actually a tad oversized for the car, and found himself having to duck his head a little to stay still.

                “Are you in okay, little bro?” Carly asked politely as her fingers continued kneading at her brother’s already struggling body, her hand clasped against the void windows of the car.  “Safety first, you know.”

                “Oh, absolutely,” Jack answered with defeat as Carly, at last satisfied, gently lowered the car toward the ground and set it down on the carpet.

                “Well, get going!  You don’t have much time!” the towering seventeen-year-old girl warned with sudden imperiousness.

                “Time for what?” Jack asked slowly, not wanting to know the answer, as he slid his feet through the hollowed out bottom of the car, allowing his feet to touch the carpet just beneath.  He craned his neck out the window, the familiar feeling of his stomach flipping over inside him taking place as always as his gaze wound up the awe-inspiring sight of his Amazonian little sister standing above him

                “Because…” Carly announced, her voice in a low, dangerous rumble as she placed her hands on her firm hips as a show of power far above.  “…I need to know where my HUSBAND IS.” 

                “Goddamn it, no,” Jack groaned, rolling his eyes, knowing precisely what was coming next.

                “Where is he, little man?” Carly bellowed, mimicking the sound of Olivia Wilde’s voice from the movie as closely as she could.  “He’s going to pay for cheating on me, his beautiful wife!”  Casually, Carly raised her right foot from the carpet and splayed her toes down against it, arching her smooth, wrinkled sole just out of sight.  “And besides, that itch is still there…”

                Jack wasted no time in kicking his legs against the carpet as quickly as possible, getting the little plastic car up to a stuttered start.

                He made it nearly six inches across the carpet before the shadow of his sister’s youthful foot came rapidly into view.

                Dexterous toes scrunching against the thin translucent plastic front window, heel hanging easily off the back of the car, Carly’s naked foot steadily began applying pressure.  Immediately, Jack pushed at the door, but realized the little safety lock that allowed it to stay closed most of the time was being restrained as the roof of the car began descending slightly with a creak from the plastic, the weight of his giant sister’s body caving in his hiding place.

                Having taken thorough control of the car’s movements away from her brother, who only temporarily had any, Carly flicked at the car with her toes, giving it an extra burst of speed by flipping the back down against the carpet for an instant with her heavy heel.

                The tiny vehicle was spent racing across the carpet, the wheels barely able to keep up.  Jack, in a moment of panic, picked his legs out of the hole in the bottom to avoid having them flayed off by the severe carpet burns he would’ve received if he touched the ground during this ride.

                With a tiny crash, the car stopped at the far wall of Carly’s bedroom.  Jack was slammed against the front of the vaguely detailed plastic dashboard, his neck feeling a little sore, as he turned around and peered at the back window, although he wished he hadn’t, as he saw the imposing sight of a pair of monstrous bare feet steadily treading across the carpet, slamming down a little harder than was necessary with each step, so that he’d feel the impact through the vibrations of the car.

                Frantically, Jack began wrestling with the door of the car again.  It was stuck, and despite the fact that the weight of Carly’s foot was no longer crushing the vehicle underneath, it had been sufficiently damaged to make opening the door difficult.  Grunting with effort, Jack managed to force one corner of it open.  Then, digging with his fingers, Jack managed to slide his hand into the opening and began to pry.  With a small squeak, the door slid open.

                Jack pulled back just in time, though, as Carly’s left foot came smashing down onto the carpet about a centimeter away from his face, snapping the door right off its little plastic hinges.  Her toes gripped it in the soft crevices, juggling it a little between them in full sight of Jack, who felt sick to see it. 

                What if he had tried to get out?

                “You better answer me, midget-man,” Carly cried with a little roar from far above as she contentedly set her right foot back on top of the car, recommencing the applying of pressure and weight.  Once again, Jack could see the ceiling beginning to give way, the all-encompassing tanned flesh pressed against the windows in front and back as Carly’s lower appendage hung lazily over the helpless car.  “And you better do it fast, because your insurance probably doesn’t cover damage done to your car by a thirty-year-old’s foot.”

                Jack struggled to push the car away, knowing full-well it was useless.  It refused to budge an inch.

                “That’s an actual line from the movie, little bro.  Can you believe they let that in?  It’s so… stupid sounding!” Carly burst out, laughing for a moment, still keeping full weight on the car. 

                “Y-Y-Yeah… it really is…”

                “Although I guess it’s a good concern to have,” Carly shrugged, placing her hands back on her hips and smirking down at the pathetically unmoving vehicle trapped under her weight, feeling the thin plastic slowly fusing together and crushing.  “And if they don’t cover a thirty-year-old’s foot, then there’s no way they’d cover a seventeen-year-old’s…”

                “I don’t know where your husband is!” Jack shrieked more excitedly than he’d intended to, just hoping for the onslaught to end.

                “Lies,” Carly hissed, once again in the voice of the actress.  “Although I guess the insurance people would have to make some kind of exception, since you’re like the size of my finger.  I mean, face it, Jackie-poo, I’m no ordinary seventeen-year-old.”

                “No, you are not,” Jack whispered bitterly to himself as the car continued crunching under the mammoth weight of his athletic sister’s godlike foot.

                Carly bounded gleefully up the driveway of the house with her full backpack slung casually over one shoulder and her current favorite navy blue flip-flops smacking against her pink soles with each step.  The immense weight of the bright magenta bag was beginning to make her shoulder sore, but she didn’t care.  School was out, she had most of the afternoon to herself, and she wasn’t going to let anything get her down.

                After all, Valentine’s Day came but once a year.

                “Hey, Mom!” Carly sang gaily as she swung her way through the garage door and into the kitchen.

                “Hi honey.  No practice today?” Mrs. Arton asked, looking over her shoulder before returning her gaze to her book as she leaned back on the couch.

                “Nope.  Coach has the flu or something.”

                “Ah, that’s a shame,” her mother answered.  “Lot of homework tonight?”

                “No.  Why?”

                “That backpack looks ready to burst.”

                “Oh.  Yeah,” Carly answered sheepishly, letting the bag slump to the floor with an unceremonious slam.  “It is.”

                “Careful, honey, I don’t want to have to get this floor redone again,” groaned Mrs. Arton.

                “Sorry.”

                “So what’s in it?”

                “Just some… stuff… from the guys at school,” Carly wheedled.  Grasping the end railing of the staircase for support, she plucked each flip-flop from her feet, wriggling her toes at in newfound freedom.  She pressed a finger between her big and second toes where the plastic strap of the flip-flops had been and noticed a small swollen red mark from the day-long pressure.  Sore as could be.  As much as she loved these shoes, they were kind of a pain sometimes.

                Carly smiled.  It was no matter.  As soon as she got upstairs alone, the problem could be resolved.

                “Did you say guys, plural?” Mrs. Arton asked with sudden concern, running her fingers over her forehead and stroking them through her slightly darker blonde hair that would’ve matched her teenage daughter’s around twenty-five years ago.

                “Don’t be weird, Mom, I’m not dating all of them.  I don’t even know all of them that well, really.  They just want to give me stuff.”

                “Oh.  Such as?”

                “DRUGS, Mom.  Hard drugs.  And beer, so I can get wasted by myself,” Carly spewed sarcastically, rolling her eyes, but letting a smile crack on her lips.

                “You’re hilarious, honey.  Just hilarious.  What is it actually?  Just valentines?”

                “Yeah.  And some presents, too,” the seventeen-year-old social butterfly and basketball star gushed, licking her lips playfully at the prospect of so much loot.  She leaned down to scoop the strap of the backpack up again.  “I’m gonna go open some of them now, okay?”

                “If it’s candy, make sure you save me a couple pieces!” Mrs. Arton called out as Carly began leaping up the stairs two at a time, her brilliant dirty golden locks bouncing against her slender shoulders with each jump.  “Your dad is probably just going to get me flowers.  Like I have any use for those.”

                “Will do, Mom!” Carly confirmed with a giggle before sauntering down the upstairs hallway and sliding into her bedroom.  Closing the door and locking it in one swift, practiced motion, Carly took a deep breath and let it out, leaning back against the wall with relief.

                She was back in her personal world again, right here, where she wanted to be more than anything else.

                Plopping the backpack onto the bed, she immediately made her way over to the dresser and yanked open the second drawer from the top, where she kept her panties.  An assortment of pinks, whites, and purples greeted her eyes, all neatly folded, with a secret lacy one tucked carefully in the back where no one could accidentally see it.  It was worth having on hand just in case.

                There was no movement in the fabric, and so Carly set about sliding her fingertips gingerly over the tops of them, searching for signs of small, insignificant, undeserving life.  When she passed over a black athletic piece, she felt a tiny bump rustling underneath her hand, and she grinned.

                Flicking the panties aside with a middle finger, she pinched her thumb and index fingers together into the folds and plucked out her three-inch tall brother Jack whom she had imprisoned more than two and a half years ago.

                Carly held her naked little prize up at eye level and grinned cheekily, even chuckling under her breath, before shutting her eyes and bringing him closer to her mouth.  She felt him flinch in her grasp, and she knew he assumed he was going inside for a while, but she had no intention of that.

                Not yet, anyway.

                She pressed him to her cushy lips and puckered them softly against his face and chest, murmuring with overdramatic delight and freely allowing a few droplets of lukrewarm moisture from her mouth to leak onto his shoulders.  She kissed long and deep but kept her lips closed, despite a growing urge to open her mouth wider and slurp him inside like a noodle.  Finally, with a quiet smack, she pulled him away and marveled with a grin at her damp handiwork.

                “Happy Valentine’s Day, little bro,” she declared gently, practically singing the words as a lullaby.

                Jack Arton blinked a few times and frowned, trying to decipher his sister’s intentions with this unusually peaceful greeting.  He ran a knuckle down the side of his face and on his chest, realizing the kiss had smeared a good portion of Carly’s glossy rose lipstick along his skin like sparkly war paint.  Although sticky and, at this range, the smell packed a toxic chemical wallop, he was in no position to complain.  He had fully been expecting to be placed on his sister’s tongue and sucked on for a while like an organic jawbreaker, so this was a big improvement to say the least.

                “Aren’t you going to say it back to me?” Carly asked with a frown, her tone darkening momentarily, as her fingertips tightened around Jack’s hips.

                “Yes!  Sorry.  Happy Valentine’s Day, Carly,” Jack hastily corrected.

                “Awww.  That’s so sweet of you,” she said with a smirk.  She deposited her brother into the center of her palm and cradled him in it as she made her way back toward the bed to retrieve her backpack.

                Jack watched nervously from his sister’s gargantuan hand as she set about unzipping the backpack.  An abundance of cartoony store-bought and papier-mâché hand-written valentines alike instantly began spilling out onto the bedspread, but Carly clearly wasn’t concerned with these as she batted them callously down onto the carpeted floor with the back of her hand.

                The sight of all those cards tumbling to the ground, completely disregarded by his sister who had so many admirers she couldn’t have given less of a shit about, was disheartening in a deeply personal way to Jack, and it surprised him to realize this.  He knew it was an odd reaction to have when there were so many other tortures in his otherworldly hellscape of an existence to be upset about, but he couldn’t help it.  He had never given much real thought to Valentine’s Day, especially now that he was twenty years old and primarily had to think about his survival in his sister’s captivity above all else, but in this moment, he felt bizarrely nostalgic.

                The last real “valentine” Jack had been with was in his sophomore year of high school.  Her name was Nicki, and though they’d only gone out about three times, one of those occasions was on Valentine’s Day.  It was a bold move considering how little they’d gone out, but Jack had summoned up the courage and kissed her across the table at the restaurant.  His bravery was rewarded with a forty-five minute make-out session in the back seat of his car later on.

                Now, the only valentine he had any prospect of making out with was the greasy underside of his sister’s big toe after a weekend basketball tournament.

                It was not quite the same, except for the length of time he had to spend doing it.

                With the area of her bedspread cleared, Carly took a seat on the flowery mattress and began rummaging through the backpack pockets until she came out with a small lime-colored tube with a silver cap.  She brandished it closer to her other hand so Jack could get a clear look at the label.

                “Nice, right?” Carly remarked.  “Lotion.  It’s from Dan.  No, no, that’s wrong…”
                Jack observed the bottle, which was taller than him, as it dangled from his sister’s lithe fingers.  It looked expensive, whatever it was supposed to be for, with a prominent coconut image displayed on the polished side.  As his eyes darted to the fine print along the bottom rim, though, and his attention caught on the word “podiatric,” he didn’t need to know anything more to get the full picture of his fate.

                “Sam!  It’s from Sam.  It was pretty funny, actually,” Carly mused at last.  “He was flexing so hard when he handed it to me I thought he was gonna pop a blood vessel.  As if that kind of thing could win me over.”

                “Blue flops today, huh?” Jack quietly mumbled, but in the silence of the room, it was enough for Carly to hear.  She snickered, daintily covering her mouth with her fingers, and shook her head in entertained disbelief.

                “You are just too good, little bro, you know that?  You can tell exactly what a girl needs.”

                “You know it,” Jack responded half-dead already, and without further prompting lifted his arms just as his sister picked him up from her palm around his chest and lowered him toward the end of the bed spread, where her anxiously waiting bare feet were scrunched against the soft sheets.

                The toes of her left foot parted first and his body was wedged between them, his efforts to move back immediately impeded by Carly’s hair-trigger response of clenching him between her doughy digits.

                They stayed like this for a moment, as Carly amused herself with the feeling of the wriggling life form between her toes.  Just when he was considering looking back upward to see what the hold-up was, he flinched at the crack of the green bottle being opened far above, followed by the plop of a viscous white splotch of lotion splattering atop Carly’s big toe.

                “Let’s get hustling, little bro.  We’ve got some other stuff in here to check out too,” Carly encouraged, finally releasing her toes’ grip on Jack’s sides.  She reached into her backpack and produced a heart-shaped box decorated with fake lace and sequins.  Lifting the lid revealed an assortment of caramels and nougats all sealed in chocolate truffles.  “Okay, this one is definitely from Nathan.  Definitely.  I think.”

                Jack wasted no unnecessary time and submerged his hands in the glob of lotion, lathering it between his fingers in preparation for the work.  The swollen strip in Carly’s toe crevice from where her flip-flop strap had been digging against the skin all day was still very apparent, and he needed no further direction.  Taking a deep breath, he pressed his fingers into his sister’s tender foot skin and began working the lotion into it with great fervor.

                He focused first on the swollen patch of skin that had turned raw, not bothering to be gentle with her.  Carly liked her foot rubs rough and to the point.  Any dawdling or feeble gestures on his part would probably end with a toe pressing down onto his chest, or worse, even lower on his body.  He ran his knuckles up and down the length of it and dug his fingers in as deeply as the plush skin would allow.

                When his handful of the lotion ran dry, he simply reached back up into the blob on top of his sister’s toe for a fresh supply.  Then, in order to avoid inevitable prompting from his gigantic client, he began working it into the toes themselves, even though there didn’t seem to be swollen flip-flop wounds on them.  Jack stroked the skin in ardent circles with the heel of his hand and even caressed the underside of the toes, where the blushing flesh was squishy and each resembled giant pink marshmallows.

                At least he seemed to be doing it correctly.  He glanced nervously up the winding length of Carly’s legs and torso up to her face, but she had her eyes closed, and was sighing contentedly as she popped another chocolate between her lips and enjoyed the routine luxury of an intimate toe massage from her older brother.

                All in all, things could’ve been severely worse.  Right away Jack could tell Carly hadn’t had basketball practice today, because the scent emanating from between her dexterous toes was more of an earthy musk as opposed to the rubbery, salted haze of sudor he was normally accustomed to being assaulted with as his sister kicked her sneakers off, peeled away soggy socks, and demanded he start rubbing or face an evening upside down on the inside of the socks as they hung to dry.

                “I think that stuff smells pretty good,” Carly commented as she popped a caramel ball into her mouth and began chewing the tacky treat with some effort.  “Oo you ‘ink ‘o?”

                Jack had to admit the present wasn’t bad at all.  At least his sister’s admirer had sprung for the more expensive stuff, despite it being all for naught with the highly unimpressed Carly.  The coconut aroma, though a little too strong for Jack’s liking at such close proximity, was cheerfully exotic and almost allowed him to forget the degrading task he was currently involved in.

                “God, this stuff is heaven.  Nathan or Josh did a great job picking this out, whichever one of them it was,” Carly moaned with pleasure while her hand began rummaging back through her backpack again.  A few seconds later she produced a small white and brown jar.  “Hey, look!  It’s Nutella.  No idea who it’s from, though.”

                “That’s good,” Jack said, finishing up Carly’s left foot and scurrying over the ruffled sheets to her right one before angry orders could be issued to do so.

                Bringing another chocolate to her mouth, Carly bit into the candy shell and grimaced with disgust.  “Ugh.  Cherry.  Nature screwing with perfectly good chocolate,” Carly condemned, shaking her head.  “I guess Nathan or Josh isn’t winning me as their valentine this year either.”

                There was a big surprise.  Jack tried not to roll his eyes as he set about repeating the strenuous process of massaging the swollen flesh between his sister’s doughy toes on her right foot.

                “You want it?” Carly offered in her most charitable voice.

                Already more suspicious than a schizophrenic in a dark alley on acid, Jack glanced up at Carly’s gorgeously stoic face.  Her eyebrows were raised, she had a smile on her full lips, and there seemed to be genuine earnesty in her alluring crystal eyes as she held the half-eaten cherry truffle between two fingers.  With her other hand, she batted a few blonde locks out of her eyes like she always did.

                He didn’t really want it.  Anytime Jack willingly accepted a consolation prize from his sister, life-preserving sustenance or not, there was sure to be a secret hidden clause that further threatened to crack the very foundations of his already fragile psyche.

                Of course, saying no wasn’t a real option either, and so with all the reticence he could muster, Jack shook his head yes.

                The smile that appeared on Carly’s face was infectious, and she eagerly leaned forward toward her feet with the partially ravaged truffle still in her grasp.

                Jack put his hands above his head to receive the large chocolate chunk, but it was not lowered into his arms.  Puzzled, he gazed up at the sweet and into the clearly visible cluster of gooey burgundy threatening to dribble out the broken shell as his sister’s massive fingertips held it just out of his short reach.

                And then she squeezed.  The effect was instant as her fingers violently squelched the pitiful candy shell into chocolate shards.  A hollow squish sounded out and the cherry filling plumped downward like dead meat, landing right on Carly’s toe.

                Jack recoiled in surprise, examining the gooey substance with distaste as it dribbled slowly down the side of her digit and into the warm toe crevice he had been dutifully massaging a minute before.

                “Well, go ahead,” Carly whispered throatily, the tip of her tongue flicking out from between her lips.  “Eat it.”

Of course there was a catch.  Why shouldn’t there be a catch?

                Cautiously, Jack touched the translucent red blob of jelly as it congealed on his sister’s tremendous foot and prepared to bring it to his lips for a taste, when Carly’s big toe bucked upward and delivered a gut punch that knocked him squarely onto his back like a leaf.  The edge of her expansive toenail caught against his neck and nearly broke the skin.

                “No!” Carly laughed piteously.  “I meant lick it up.”

                “What?” Jack groaned, understanding it perfectly well, but still too dizzy to get up.

                “You heard me.  Lick the cherry stuff off my toe, and tell me how it tastes.”

                Revolted as usual but in no position to be making costly second-long considerations, Jack obediently bowed his head down, held his breath, and began gobbling up the cherry goo into his mouth.  Despite it being served atop a giant teenage girl’s unclean foot, it hadn’t been there long enough to absorb any additional flavors from her soft flesh, for which Jack was profoundly grateful.

                In fact, considering he normally was forced to subsist on a boring assortment of bread, cheese, and damp lettuce leaves, this was a rare treat indeed.  And as much as he hated to admit it, he was too used to this style of dining to be truly thrown off.

                As he hungrily lapped up the remainder of the cherry truffle off Carly’s skin, growing more accustomed to the idea, he even found himself chasing the stray droplets of it down the inner crevice of her toe.

                Without an extra ounce of hesitation, he got on his haunches and licked greedily at the succulent morsels, even as they soaked into the soft, peachy skin.

                “You missed a big spot,” she droned, crossing her arms with falsified contempt and pursing her lips royally.  “And you know how I feel about wasted food.”

                Shrugging, Jack knew there was no point trying to retain modesty in this moment, and started fondling the intimidating wall of his sister’s toe flesh with his tongue.  With great zeal, he sucked up every last glob of cherry filling, which by this point had intermixed with some stagnant sweat dormant in the skin, but he couldn’t really care.

                Carly’s sweat was a familiar taste to him, and in this case, with the tart sweetness of the cherry caking her toe, the saltiness of her pore excretions  balanced out the flavor into something Jack could only accurately call masochistically delicious.  Unable to help himself in the heat of the moment, he began biting his teeth as hard as he could into the plushy give of the skin, knowing it would register as little more than a tickle to his towering younger sister.

                “Looks like somebody’s a clean plate ranger,” came the inevitable giggling comment as Jack raised himself up again to his feet and wiped his wrist across his mouth.  Carly wriggled her toes intently, gratified by the tiny slick patch of her little slave’s saliva on her foot.  “Well?”

                “Very good.  Thank you.”

                Carly shook her head.  “You’re so perfect like this, little bro,” she said.  “This is why I like you and not Dan, Sam, Nathan, and Josh.  I bet they wouldn’t do this for me.  I bet they wouldn’t eat my candy off my toes.  Would they?”

                “Probably not,” he answered truthfully as he continued wiping the gruesome-looking red smear off his face, feeling rather animalistic.

                “Darn right.  Thanks, lovie,” Carly cooed, holding the palm of her hand under her lips and blowing a dramatic kiss down in the direction of Jack and her foot.  “Lovie little brother.”

                Apparently that was all there was to that particular game.  Nothing he couldn’t handle.  In fact, if the entire afternoon could go this smoothly, Jack was pretty positive he would manage to get through this day with minimal bruises and almost no tormenting nightmares.

                This delusion continued blissfully for another minute or so until he heard his sister take a deep breath and begin speaking in a tone that would’ve been indistinguishable to the average observer from her casual, lilting conversation voice.

                “You know what I’m realizing right now, little bro?” she asked simply.

                It was subtle, and meant only for his ears.  Though she continued about her business with a cavalier breeziness, there was something new and potent dripping forebodingly from Carly’s words.

                Unquenchable lust.

                “What?” Jack croaked, already nearly drained of hope.

                “This candy just isn’t doing it for me now.”

                “Oh.”    

                “I mean, I could just keep on eating these little wrapped things, couldn’t I, little bro?” Carly asked, holding the ornate box in one hand before tossing it to the side on the bed.  “As much as I want.”
                “Yeah,” Jack answered dryly, his voice cracking.

                “But where’s the fun in that?” Carly simpered inquisitively as she began unscrewing the lid on the Nutella jar she had pulled from the bag minutes before.  “I’ve got everything I could possibly need for the best candy a girl could get her hands on right here.”

                Dipping her pointer finger into the untouched chocolate miasma, Carly swirled her digit in the dense glop and then pulled it out with a hearty dollop of the hazelnut treat dangling off her finger.  She opened her lips far wider than was necessary to engulf the Nutella blob and, rather than inserting her finger into her mouth, extended her tongue as far she as she could and lapped carnally at her finger like it was a lollipop.

                She was delicate and deliberate in her motions, letting her tongue slide and coddle around her finger, but her eyes remained unblinkingly locked on her brother, who couldn’t help but quake at the knees at the sight of this chocolate violence, and the full understanding of what was running through his sister’s head at this moment.

                “It tastes good by itself.  Obviously,” Carly shrugged, a wild glimmer in her eyes growing fiercer with each passing second.  “But it’s missing something.”
                “Oh.”

                “Something… important,” she drawled, letting her cocoa-stained tongue slide between her lips for an extra second before retracting it back in.  “Something sweet.”  Her free hand rose from her lap and opened, her fingers extending and waggling back and forth.  They seemed to twitch with anticipation.

                Jack took a step backward on the uneven bedspread away from her toes, but could feel in the intensity of Carly’s glowering gaze that any further motion would result in more severe consequences than what he already knew was coming.

                The shadow of her palm loomed ominously above him, taking its time in lowering, just because there was absolutely nothing stopping her from doing so.  He stopped moving and hung his head in terrified defeat as his sister’s soft fingers engulfed him where he stood and scooped him into the air.

                “Something small,” she added lasciviously.

                As if awakening from a drunken stupor that had locked her into a threateningly lethargic pace, Carly apparently had run entirely out of patience for what was to come, because she was suddenly kicked into high gear.  Dangling Jack in her fingertips, she brought him swiftly over the rim of the Nutella jar and released him with a flourish into the candied abyss.

                Jack plopped into the fragrant brown goop, sinking down to his thighs before he could get ahold of himself.  Of course, he had no real opportunity to avoid sinking, because no sooner had he taken a sweet breath of the stuff then Carly’s thumb was jamming firmly down onto his head, forcing him lower into the gooey treat.  With a gasp, he frantically swung his arms upward in an effort to hang onto Carly’s fingernail for protection, but it was no use, and he disappeared below the surface along with his sister’s overpowering fingertip.

                Luckily, breathing wasn’t impossible while submerged, with the presence of a few merciful air pockets in the sea of chocolate, but movement was out of the question.  He wriggled his arms around, squirming against the heaviness of it all, but found it clung to him more cumberously like molasses at each twitch.

                For a few seconds all Jack could hear was his heart pounding his chest as he waited helplessly for Carly to pluck her prize back out of the jar.  He felt her fingertip working against the top of his head again, but she wasn’t removing him; rather, she seemed to be trying to mash him on all surfaces into the goop so that it was liberally spread over his every inch.

                By the time Carly’s thumb and forefinger were pinching around Jack’s hips and tugging him out of the sugary swamp, his body was coated with so much of the stuff that he felt like he was floating through a void of quicksand.  In fact, he was pretty positive that even walking on his own with all of this gooey spread caked onto his body would be impossible.

                Coincidentally, Jack knew he probably wasn’t going to be walking or even moving of his own accord for a while now.

                He was aware of his body flailing awkwardly through the air as his titanic sister dangled him by his leg, but the chocolate mess coating him ensured he couldn’t feel the wind whipping by, let alone hear or see anything.

                Cautiously, aware that he was hanging upside down, Jack pressed his hands against his eyes and began digging through the malleable gunk to clear a patch for himself to see, but given the circumstances he was greeted with immediately, he very quickly wished he hadn’t.

                He managed to wipe away the chocolate blotting out his vision just in time to see the wet, glistening blackness of Carly’s gaping mouth fill his view, her teeth clacking together aggressively before he passed between her feminine jaws.

                His face was instantly compressed and massaged down against the back of her tongue.  From the back of her throat came an agitated gurgling, bordering on a gag at having him so far back and close to her uvula.  Rather than the fingers sliding away and the lips enclosing him in the hot prison like Jack was anticipating, he felt himself being dragged back toward the massive opening of his captor’s mouth.

                The heft of the chocolate goop bound him down to Carly’s rippled organ, his body glued down on all surfaces by the dangerously adhesive combination of sugar and dribbling saliva.  Jack sputtered for air, feeling nauseous from the influx of strong chocolate and Carly’s warm, bubbly saliva all being mashed into his face and down his nostrils.  The further he was dragged and the more of the chocolate Carly licked off his body, the more of her tongue he could feel squeezing under his body, rippling and wiggling like a slippery, scaled animal relishing his flavor.

                He was slaked down his sister’s tongue toward the slender end, and as she peeled him off of her writhing red muscle in a spray of liquid chocolate and mouthy froth, the tip of her tongue lapped at his face, allowing a crystalline rope of spit to string itself stickily from the bottom of Carly’s lip to the top of Jack’s head.

                She giggled warmly and caressed her tongue along the entire length of her lips to clean up any stray flecks of Nutella, still keeping Jack dangled by his ankles a few inches from her mouth.

                “Heck, Mom can have the rest of that big gross truffle box,” Carly huffed shallowly, obviously somewhat short of breath for uncomfortable reasons Jack didn’t want to have to think about.  “Who needs cherry in the middle when you can have a little boy there instead?”

                Although he was freed from most of the sugary sludge previously ornamented on his entire body, Jack could now feel a fresh coating of Carly’s sweltering slobber trickling its way down his body in thick, generous droplets that soaked into his hair and seeped into his eyes until they burned.

                “Happy Valentine’s Day, to the only real valentine I have,” Carly sighed happily, extending a finger toward her suspended brother.  She had spotted a small wad of Nutella stuck to Jack’s crotch that hadn’t been consumed in the frothy carnage of a few moments before.  With a smirk of satisfaction, Carly swiped her finger down the underside of her little living candy’s member, and casually began sucking it off the tip of her finger while savoring the sight of Jack trembling from unavoidable pleasure at her invasive touch.

                “Do I really have to make you say it back to me, little bro?” she demanded playfully as her tongue snaked over her lips at the corner of her mouth again.

                Jack coughed weakly in an attempt to respond again, but was far too late, as his sister’s hand was already speeding back toward the still-open jar for another scrumptious dunk.

                Carly’s eyes snapped open as a crack louder than thunder echoed violently through her bedroom.  A burst of light shorter than a blink pealed from her dresser, and with a loud thump, there was silence in the darkness again.

                Cautiously, the eighteen-year-old daintily slid her feet toward the carpet, testing the fibers of it with her toes to ensure it was still safe to venture forward.  Then, draping her blanket around her pajama-clad shoulders, and tucking her dirty blonde locks underneath it, the girl padded her way forward in the dark.  She stopped with a heart-jolting stop when her toes bumped into something firm, with the warmth of human skin.

                Her hand darted for the small purple lamp on top of her dresser and she struggled for a few anxious moments to find it in the dark until her fingertips met the dangling switch, which she yanked almost hard enough to remove from the chain.

                Dim light filled the room, and Carly’s jaw could do nothing but drop, her cheeks drained of color as she stared at the thing on the floor she had bumped into.

                It was Jack.

                Or, at least, she thought it was Jack.  It looked exactly like him.  Every inch of him, in fact, and she would know; she had been accustomed to his every nook and cranny for almost four years.

                The only difference was that he stood at around six feet tall as he lay naked and weary-looking on her carpet with his eyes closed, his mind obviously still in a blissful slumber: his only respite from his normally rigorous daily activities in his younger sister’s hands and shoes.

                Too bewildered to fully accept what she was seeing, Carly prodded at Jack’s shoulder with her big toe.  She watched him nudge in his sleep, and nearly fell to the floor in shock at the confirmation of his existence.

                After all this time, it was over.

                Whatever oddity of science that had befallen her brother and become a blessing for her when she took permanent possession of him back then had finally come to an abrupt end.  He was normal-sized again.

                Carly’s heart immediately began racing such that she had to sit back on the end of her bed for support to avoid toppling over from wobbling knees, and she felt the nausea ballooning rapidly inside her stomach.  She let out a muted gasp, but managed to cup her hand around her mouth as she leaned forward, bracing herself for the oncoming dizziness, her vision swimming purely from adrenaline-spiked stress.

                How had this happened?

                What was going to happen now?

                Where could she go?

                Could she get away?

                Could she hide him?

                What could she do?

                Unable to hold back the influx of emotions and acid in her innards, Carly quickly grabbed a sunny yellow trash bin from the floor next to her desk and began heaving into it, her brow glistening with quite a sweat as her hollow wheezes turned into panicked vomiting.  She hadn’t eaten much the previous evening at dinner, making her intestinal evacuation all the more strained as she struggled for breath and a single shred of logical clarity.  Of course, neither was readily in reach.

                So much time had passed, with Jack being her dirty little secret she could play with to her heart’s content, the very idea of his discovery by anyone else had not existed in her mind since the day she had first found him wandering so helplessly around the kitchen.  Yet, it was a reality she’d have to contend with very soon.

                She wouldn’t be a victim of denial; she could already see the reality of the situation.  There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide and still manage to maintain a semblance of this life she loved so dearly.  She wouldn’t be able to keep Jack hidden any longer.  He would be taken away from her.  She would be left with nothing.

                And then people would find out.  Her Mom.  Her Dad.  Her cousins, her aunts and uncles and grandparents.  Her best friends.  Her enemies.  Her teachers.  Her coaches.  Every other person she knew and didn’t know with access to the internet or a TV.

                They would all know what she had done, and she knew right away that not a one of them could ever understand why, no matter how she tried to explain it, no matter how clear and just it all was in her head, they would side with Jack.  They would side with her toy brother, and they would listen to him tell every single wild thing she had ever put him through every hour of every day of every year he had spent in her presence.

                And they would burn her for it.

                Carly began to put down the disgusting trash can, positively weak with raw fear and sheer wonderment, when she felt another round coming, so she quickly brought it back to her lips just in time to let loose with a deep and painful hocking in her throat.

                She was totally unprepared.  There was no contingency plan, nor even one that could’ve existed if she’d managed to think it through for long enough.  No way out of it at all.  These thoughts had never crossed her mind, not for a second, because they hadn’t needed to.  After she’d found him, and made the decision to keep him, there was never a danger of anyone ever entering their little world.

                And why should they?  He belonged to her, not them.  No one else had the right to get anywhere near him or have anything to do with him.  He was her boy to caress, to abuse, to titillate.

                Hers.

                In tandem with the sickness at Jack’s growth, Carly instantly felt rage bubbling under her skin as well.  Finally so emptied of waste that all she was able to do was dry heave, she set the trash can back on the ground between her legs and set her hands on her knees, clenching them into white-hot fists to stop them from shaking too hard.

                What right did the universe have to make him like this again?  Jack’s shrinking to just under three inches had been the single most correct event of Carly’s life.  Every day, she’d trudged through her existence, accomplishing great things socially and athletically, but feeling so cold and distanced from it all that she could barely have been said to be existing at all before that fateful day.  Perhaps she thought she was back then, giggling with her friends at the mall or flirting with high school boys over the fence at the bus stop, but that was all meaningless now.  That was before she had discovered what it was like to be the queen that she rightfully was now.

                That was before she had discovered what it was like to own someone else’s existence.

                Every other person out there was lying to themselves, believing they counted as anything without experiencing even a fraction of the majesty Carly knew she had achieved at such a young age.  Simply, she had discovered her purpose: to be one for whom worship was the only acceptable interaction.

                And now that Jack had inexplicably regrown to his old size, it felt like the empire in her bedroom was tumbling down all around in a raucous silence, save for the gurgling of her wounded stomach.  The years she’d had, lording over her shrunken brother’s every movement, were not enough.

                She wanted more.

                She needed more.

                She deserved more.

                But with him back to normal size again, it would not be possible ever again.

                Now with the terror and anger came, also, sorrow.  Carly’s eyes welled with tears and she had to press her cold palms against her burning cheeks to try and calm herself as they began spilling down her face.  Her breath caught in her chest and she began sobbing meekly.

                Everything had been so right.  So perfect.  The world out there was so intent on controlling her: making her do homework, go to practice, attend boring parties, lie to people about whether they were actually friends.

                Jack was the one thing.  The one thing that was totally and completely hers.  A living, breathing thing that depended on her existence for absolutely everything.

                She decided when he ate.  When he slept.  When he went to the bathroom.  When he ejaculated.

                When he breathed.

                And it wasn’t just his actions, of course.  His tiny head, his tiny hands, his tiny legs, his tiny chest, and his tiny dick were all hers.  They were her little playground to give her fingers and toes and tongue delights she never thought she’d be able to experience with another person, let alone another existing thing in the world.

                And finally, his soul was hers too.  She knew it was, even if it wasn’t a thing she could grab onto and stuff into a pocket for safe keeping.  He had dedicated himself to her.  His every action, not only controlled by her, but specifically performed for her.

                He lived for her.

                And that was why she was able to get past the revolting boredom and grayness of that cloying outside world, to convince herself to climb out of bed in the morning, walk over to her dresser, open the drawer, and spend a few moments silently staring down at the squirming little life form just waiting there to be controlled in whatever way she chose.

                But it was all going away now.  All of it.

                Carly wiped a hand across her damp cheeks, but continued sniffling and leaking tears.  She still couldn’t fully process it all, but it briefly and casually crossed her mind that she might die for what she’d done.  Because of their false understanding of the world she inhabited with her brother, someone could decide to kill her.

                She didn’t care at this point.  Everything was gone that was worth having.

                If she couldn’t be a goddess, there was no point in being.  Humanity was too low to be worth it.  Her eyes had been opened too wide by her experiences in owning Jack to believe anything otherwise.

                As Carly continued crying and trying to smack the taste of the vomit off her lips, her hands still trembling with lingering fury at the world, there was a stirring on the carpet.

                Jack opened his eyes and rubbed them blearily, bringing himself back to consciousness.

                Not knowing what she was doing, Carly instantly composed herself and marched on steely autopilot back across her bedroom until she was standing above the reclining six-foot-tall frame of her twenty-one-year-old brother.

                She stared down at him unblinkingly, and once he’d adjusted to the light of the lamp their eyes locked.

                “Little bro,” Carly began neutrally.  There was a tremendous lump in her throat, and she couldn’t imagine what was going to come out of her mouth next due to the lightheadedness, but she parted her lips and the words just seemed to flow like sweet honey: “What are you doing out of your drawer?”

                At this, Jack’s being seemed to awaken, and terror flooded his expression, his eyes practically screaming, and his entire body surrendered to tremors.

                It was an intriguing sight for Carly.  She had, of course, seen this look on her brother’s face too many times to count, generally when her bare foot was hovering over top of him, fresh from her post-workout shoes, preparing to bury him alive under a mound of her swollen pink sole flesh.

                Yet, she had never seen the look this close before.  At his height of being just shy of a quarter of a foot tall, reading his face was guesswork at best, particularly when he was all the way down on the carpet at her toes where he belonged.

                Now, though, she could see it all.  And though she recognized the fear, she saw something else too, something she’d had to fight so hard to earn from him when she first made him her property: respect.

                A smile crossed Carly’s lips as she savored the look of reverent horror in Jack’s face.

                “I said…” Carly began again, lifting her foot off the carpet and gently pancaking her sole to the side of Jack’s face with a satisfying slap, forcing him to lean his head to the side.  “…what are you doing out of your drawer?”

                This was another novel sensation.  After so much time spent when her heel was plenty to conceal his entire body, the fact that her foot was about as long as his head again briefly threw her off, but she didn’t let it show.  His face was warm and anxious as ever, and it soothed the cool underside of Carly’s foot.

                “I don’t know,” Jack mumbled quietly, eyeing Carly’s foot as it bore down on his cheek harder and harder until it partially malformed the shape of his mouth just to the side of it.

                Carly didn’t dare try to grasp why Jack didn’t say anything about his renewed size.  He clearly acknowledged their size difference, with her foot only able to cover part of his face rather than his whole naked body under a few of her slender toes, and yet he said nothing.  Even if he’d noticed, did he even have the guts now to resist her?

                “I’m not sure I’m a big fan of that answer,” Carly said thoughtfully, pressing a finger to her lips.  She rippled her toes along Jack’s temple, reacquainting herself with the feeling she hadn’t experienced since their early conflicts when she was just fourteen, mere days before he took his rightful place in the universe.  “So maybe I’ll ask it again, and see if I get a better one.”

                Before speaking again, Carly shifted her foot slowly until it was positioned halfway above Jack’s mouth, the ball of her foot pressed against both of his nostrils with confident poise.

                “Carly, I’m sorry, I…” Jack muttered, though his words came out partially muffled with his sister’s foot caved against one of his cheeks so heavily, and his breathing already impaired.

                “Don’t talk yet.  Not until I ask the question,” Carly instructed.  “Now open your mouth.”

                His eyes agape with nervousness, Jack did as he was told, parting his lips as much as he could given the weight that was being applied to them.

                “Wider,” Carly simpered.

                The young man obliged, and with a little more muster managed to open his jaws as wide as they could go.

                “Good job, little bro,” she commented.  Toes wriggling with glee, she dipped her foot down into his open maw, managing to fit in a full three digits as well as part of a fourth.  She dug them as deep into her brother’s mouth as they would go, tapping at his palate and teeth.  “Don’t bite me.”

                There was only a murmured response that was instantly lost to the mass of womanly flesh currently filling the young man’s mouth.

                “Now,” Carly continued softly.  Her voice was on the verge of quavering, and she hadn’t felt this terrifying lack of utter confidence since she was fourteen years old, but she was wired now, and nothing could stop her from reclaiming what was hers.  Slowly, without removing her foot from the opening it occupied, she lowered herself down until she was seated comfortably on Jack’s stomach.  “I’ll ask again.  What were you doing out of the drawer?”

                There was another pause.  Carly’s brother choked lightly, his eyes welling with tears from the bitter taste of her flesh pervading his throat, but with some effort he got the words out: “I disobeyed.”

                “That’s right.  You did,” Carly agreed.  She wriggled her toes harder, trying to tickle the boy’s uvula.  When this failed, she satisfied herself by massaging the ball of her foot along his tongue.  “And what do I do with little bros who don’t obey me?”

                “Punish,” hacked the subdued six-foot-tall sibling.

                “Very good,” she answered.  She was beginning to see it already.  The change that was taking place.

                Or rather, the lack of one.

                The same fear in his eyes, the same trembling at her touch, the same single-minded existence.  It was all still there as though he was small enough to tuck beneath her warm toes for a basketball drill, in her fist for a game of beginner’s hide and seek, or under her tongue when a Jolly Rancher just wouldn’t hit the sweet spot.  He was taller and stronger than her now, physically, but he was still fully hers down to every last cell of his body and every last minute thought in his brain.

                She could see it all now, so clearly.  Every twitch of his body and every horrified intonation gave away his true ownership.  She knew it, but most importantly, he knew it.

                “So you know what to do,” Carly exhaled calmly at last, her heart pounding with joy.  “Start apologizing right now, or I’m gonna have to think up a new lesson for you.”

                The girl gasped elatedly as her prisoner began obediently sucking her toes without another moment’s pause.  She hadn’t been expecting this.  The sensation was far more potent and tactile on her skin, now that so much more bodily power was being dedicated to her wellbeing alone, and Carly couldn’t help but feel a twinge in her loins.

                Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

                Sure, this act couldn’t last forever now that he was big again.  Sure, they’d take him away and listen to what he told them.  Sure, they’d crucify her for what they were all too stupid and weak to understand correctly.

                None of those things mattered now.

                She had won.  She had beaten the world.  Nobody could ever take what was hers away, even if threw her in a hole and tossed the key away.

                No matter how far apart they were, no matter how much bigger than her he wrongfully managed to become, and no matter how often people tried to convince him it was over and he could be his own person again, it wouldn’t matter.

                She was and forever would be a queen of someone’s being.

                The girl closed her eyes and moaned pleasurably as her toy continued suckling the night sweat and toe jam from her squirming digits.

                Carly’s eyes snapped open again as she lay back in her bed, sunlight streaming in through the slats of the shades.  Blocking the glow with a hand, the girl ran her fingers through her tussled dark blonde locks and breathed a sigh of deep relief for something she couldn’t even remember from whatever wonderful nightmare-turned-fantasy she’d just had.

                Then it all came back in a flash.

                Holding back a scream, she bolted from her bed, breaths shallow, and yanked the drawer open with enough force that it almost came clean out of the dresser.

                The three-inch Jack was sent tumbling across a few rows of socks and slammed into the front of the wooden paneling.  Before he could even get his bearings, though, Carly’s thumb and index finger were pinching gently around his sides and she was lifting him out.  He soon found himself deposited into her cupped palm and raised up to eye level with her.

                There was a period of silence that went on for untold minutes.  All Carly could do was stare down at the little naked boy in her hand.  Her putty to mold however she saw fit, and once again free from the idiocy of the outside world.

                Her eyes once again welled with moisture, but this time for an entirely opposite reason.

                “What?” Jack peeped with terror, clearly more afraid of what his sister’s reaction might be to being upset that what it actually meant.

                “Don’t talk yet,” Carly whispered, ecstatic tears cascading down her cheeks while an unstoppably cheerful grin spread across her soft lips.  Delicately, she lowered herself down to the carpet, arching her wrinkled sole to get it some air, before cupping her tiny brother against the silky skin.  “Now open your mouth.”

                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.

                “Jack!” Carly called as she descended the staircase, her voice rebounding through the kitchen.  “JACK!”  She bellowed again, stomping her foot as hard as she could in protest of her brother not appearing immediately at her beck and call.

                Carly reached the floor with no satisfactory answer and approached the screen door leading to the porch.  “Jack, you left the screen door open.  It’s going to rain inside!” she yelled out to the grassy void.

                Grasping the handle, she slammed both doors shut in succession with a vengeful force and wriggled her toes liberally against the floor, exhausted from the work she’d been doing all morning to appease her sibling’s cruel blackmail ploy.

                God, where did he get off with this shit?  It wasn’t like he couldn’t do the landscaping himself, far faster and more easily.  He was seventeen, after all, and always marching around in t-shirts that let him show off his biceps like an overzealous Chippendales hopeful.  Hell, it would’ve probably been an ego boost for him to parade around the yard with a shovel over one shoulder and a bucket in his hand.

                Instead, she was left to suffer through the labor herself, and worse, have him holding a simple crush on Blake over her head like it belonged to him with that cell phone picture.  She could still feel her soles pruned with mucky yard water, and as she clenched her pink-painted digits together, she felt a few blades of grass still trapped in the deeper wrinkles tickling her skin.

                She clenched her firm fingertips into her palm, her knuckles cracking softly.

                There was a line.  There had to be one, and wherever it was, Jack had crossed it.  That much, at least, was clear, and Carly was dangerously close to the end of her rope now.  All it would really take would be-

                “Carly.”

                A murmur, so soft it might as well have been a memory echoing in her cerebral cortex, and yet it was real and able to interrupt her thoughts: it had presence, small as it was, coming from down below, like the sound of cars on a highway to someone listening from a plane.  Brushing a few hairs off her face, Carly tilted her head down to her feet, where they fell instantly on the distant sight of Jack.

                Or, at least, she was pretty sure it was Jack.  He was naked, and also around the neighborhood of three inches in height, but it was still ostensibly him, like a tiny desert mirage, sprawled at her feet.  A small puddle glistened on the floor in front of him.

                Carly’s eyes boggled, glistening with an indescribable shine, and despite the fact that she was fairly certain she’d been transported to the Twilight Zone, a smile crept over her lips.  She was perfectly aware she was witnessing something that should’ve sent any reasonable human being scrambling for higher ground and medical attention to pump out whatever hallucinogenic drugs had been pumped into their breakfast cereal, but not her.  Something about the moment, as separated from reality as it was by several entire dimensions, felt acceptable.  Correct, even.

                Without thinking too long about it, she plunged down into a crouch, her dirty blond hair hanging down like a canopy over the miniscule visage of Jack.  Her smile quickly dissipated into a look of confusion and curiosity as the bizarre reality presented to her refused to wick away into dreams.  She reached back toward her hair and swooped it away again, as if even fewer individual strands hanging over her eyes would allow the sight to make more sense.  Of course, it didn’t really do much.

                “Carly!” the voice peeped earnestly from the body that looks an awful lot like Jack’s.  He’d toppled off his feet and was now lying on the ground, his little chest heaving with the effort to get enough air.

                It occurred to Carly that she ought to feel revolted to be exposed to her brother’s de-clothed form.  Practically everything else about him revolted her; why shouldn’t his most private areas do the same?  Somehow, she wasn’t concerned.  It was as if it didn’t matter: the way it didn’t matter that a small rodent creeping out of its hole in the earth was naked, too.  Clothes would’ve looked almost unnatural.

                Carly’s expression remained frozen as she settled into a more comfortable breathing pattern, trying so desperately to process the information before her with little success, and yet a feeling inside that it was okay to not fully embrace reality just yet.

                Sure, there was a finger-sized organism who looked an awful damn lot like someone she knew to be over six feet tall, on the floor and sputtering in a puddle of rain water and piss before her squirming bare toes.

                Why not?

                “Carly?” the quivering voice followed up again.  “Carly?  It’s me.  It’s Jack.”

                The fourteen-year-old basketball player’s innards jolted like they’d been returned to animation with a few thousand spare volts.

                “Jack?” she said, her lips curling back into another uncertain smile.  Whatever was going on, she knew enough to be able to follow along with words in her native tongue.  That was easy enough.  Surely the rest would reveal itself in time.  All she had to do was play along until life started making sense again.

                “Yeah,” the little Jack muttered, letting the word trail off.

                “What…” she began, arching her eyebrows, but the sentence caught in her throat and was replaced with a rush of adrenaline and fearlessness as this strange new state of being continued on uninterrupted.  She was hardly guided by decision-making any longer, if she ever was at all as soon as her eyes caught on the glorious little being at her toes.  This was pure instinct.  Her left hand shot out from her side, her fingers outstretched and cool with the quavering anticipation of the upcoming revelatory instant.

                Flinching at the sight of Carly’s looming appendage with her fingers extended, the tiny Jack struggled for a second to crab-walk away, but was far too slow.  An instant later her palm was on him, collecting his tiny body into the center, her fingers curling possessively around his back.  It was even easier than she’d thought it would be, but it was something more than that.

                It felt good.

                Really good.

                A warm lump descended in Carly’s throat as she became acquainted with the feeling of a near-weightless human-shaped body writhing in her grip, then eventually settling, surrendering to her might.  Every inch of his skin felt delicate, thin like flower petals against the folds of her fingers.  Whatever was happening right now felt more and more natural by the second, as though much of her adolescence had been spent in a semi-conscious stupor, and she was only just now being shaken awake.

                The powerlessness Jack had made her feel from the time they were small kids, always using his height and strength advantage over her, requiring that she find stealthier ways to keep the score even, was disappearing away out the tips of her bare toes and fingers.  Weakness, emotional and even physical, that she had known for so long, drained away.

                Who cared if the indeed-alive creature in her fist was Jack?  Whatever he was, he was allowing her the purest moment of clarity in all her young fourteen years of life.

                Rising off her haunches, Carly ascended back to her full stature, her fist leveled just below her eyes.

                It felt like having a newborn star entrapped in her soft hand.

                With the minute being’s chest squeezed against her index finger, she could feel his heart pounding wildly out of control.  However, the longer she held him, clutching with just enough strength to not damage his corpus, she felt it leveling back down, synchronizing himself to the girl that now held his entire existence in her hand.  Rightfully.

                The staring match continued on silently.  Carly felt the fairy-sized Jack’s body temperature steadily rising back up in her clammy grip.

                “C-C-Carly…” he stammered quietly, his beady pupils and open mouth a blank slate.

                Carly’s eyes widened involuntarily and experienced the sensation of an ice cube ricocheting off the walls of her skull as her brain was finally forced to confront the unreality in ordinary time.

                There was no doubt about it now.  Through whatever severe bending or outright destruction of reality’s generally reliable laws had taken place, this was, in fact, Jack in her hand right now.  Not a hallucination, or phantom illusion, or some alien beast from the next galaxy over.  Jack.

                At last managed she a full response: “Jack, you’re… you’re, like, three inches tall.”

                “I… I know-”

                “What happened to you?”

                “I don’t know!  Please, Carly, please.  I need you to do something: call mom and dad, call the hospital.  Something.  I… don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he rambled.

                “Yeah, yeah, okay…” she said.  Having accepted this moment as reality, there seemed like there was no other option.  Jack was small and afraid in the fleshy vice of her fingers.  That instant of cradling the cosmos in her palm, however wonderful, was over now.  It had to be.

                What else could she do, after all?

                Carly took a final glance into her hand, feeling the distance between herself and the helpless creature closing until all sound, light, and matter had been sealed off and it was just her eyes, holding him in their grip as well as her hand.

                She could not.

                That was what.

                “Now, wait a minute, Jack…” she said.  Carly heard her own words passing her lips, natural and still, and was surprised by them, but dared not let it show.  Something else was happening inside her now.  A previously invisible and unspoken intuition, guiding her forward confidently without fear of the fallout, and though she wasn’t immediately aware of what direction it was carrying her, she knew for certain she didn’t disagree with its choices.

                “What, Carly?  C’mon!  You have to get me some medical attention, something is seriously wrong with me!”

                “Jack, slow down…” the girl insisted softly.  The idea of the future: consequences, not just for Jack, but for her as well, seemed to fade the longer she allowed herself to gaze down at the infantile little figure clenched in her fist.  Time didn’t have to march forward any longer.  For now, this was all there was, and she was in control.

                She.

                “Carly, I need your help!  Just keep going!  I don’t know what’s going on right now, but we have to do something about it soon!”

                “Jack…”

                “Carly, c’mon!” he grunted, quaking in her warm fist.

                Carly tilted her head to the side, pursing her lips in disdain, and cocked her eyebrows.  Obviously, he hadn’t yet realized the gravity of the situation.  How it was now her responsibility to ensure his being was maintained.  What right did he have to question her choices?  Was he truly that ignorant?

                Even now, at his most vulnerable and inhuman, he was still a domineering, self-centered asshole.

                “Jack, stop talking to me like that,” she suggested quietly.  Maybe in his delirium, things hadn’t caught up to him fully yet.  God knew they hadn’t yet for her, either.  She would be the bigger person and offer him another chance.

                “Are you serious, Carly?  Look at me, I’m tiny!  I don’t know what’s wrong and we have to find out, right NOW!”

                “You’re yelling at me, Jack.”

                “Wha-what are you talking about?  I need help!  C’mon!”

                “You’re still doing it.”

                “No I’m not!  Shut up and call the goddamned hospital!”

                Carly flinched.  It felt like she’d been slapped across the cheek, and by a being small enough for her to squelch the life from under her pinky finger, of all things.  That had to stop.

                “Jack, you cussed again,” she commented with another wince.

                “I will do whatever I goddamn please until you help me.  You’ve got to help me, Carly!”

                “Not until you apologize.”

                Even in a face so small, Carly recognized the shock.  As if he was having more difficulty grasping her desire for courteous, humane treatment than his own drastic downgrade in stature.

                “Carly, are you serious?” he screeched, his whole body vibrating against Carly’s coiled palm.

                “Jack, stop yelling at me!” she demanded.  The feeling was building up higher inside, clawing its way to an emotional apex.

                “HELP ME!”

                “Stop,” she uttered.  Carly was done.  Done with feeling putdown, treaded on, and degraded.  Done with all of Jack’s shit.

                Done being the small one.

                Forever.

                “HELP!”

                “STOP YELLING AT ME!” she screamed at last.  Instantly Jack’s tiny body began trembling again, recognizing, at last, his sister’s comparative omnipotence.  It was about damn time.

                “Okay,” he whimpered, seemingly returning to some equilibrium.  His tone eased into something more reassuring.  “Okay, okay.  Look, I’m sorry, Carly, that I yelled at you.  I’m just scared, okay?  You can understand that, right?”

                Typical.  Manipulative as ever.  Nothing at all was changed in his face.

                Carly narrowed her eyes.

                “I can’t believe you, Jack.”

                “What?”

                “Even when you’re in trouble like this, and you need me, you can’t be nice to me.”

                “Look, I’m trying, Carly, okay?  I’m trying!  Look, I’ll even just wait a minute for you.  Now, please.  Please.  Go call for help,” he intones calmly.

                Carly bit the corner of her lip.

                That intuition that had been guiding her actions in the previous moments was moving more to the background now, instead alighting on her shoulder like an advice-dispensing angel.  It was her decision now: her gift.

Nothing ever had to be the same again.  And it couldn’t.

It wouldn’t.

“No,” Carly breathed at last.

This single word, perhaps, even weighed against the sensation of cupping a life in her palm, felt most precious of all.

 “B-b-” he squeaked.

“Don’t ask me again, Jack, until you’ve said it to me.”

“What?” he spat, his little face flushing red.

“Until you apologize to me.”

 “You bitch - you stupid bitch.  What the hell are you talking about?  You get over to that phone right now and help me, God DAMN IT!” he shouted.

Carly’s lips pursed into a deep frown, her eyes flaring with teenage divinity and hellfire.

“That’s it.  You can’t talk to me like that, Jack,” she hissed.  “Did you hear me?  You can’t talk to me like that!” she yelled again.

The time was here.

Carly’s fingers began to constrict, squeezing inward around Jack’s whole being, further than she would’ve considered within the realm of possibility mere minutes ago.  Then again, very little of what was happening right now could’ve been in her realm of possibility, and yet here she was: holding her brother in her fist, clenching him inside her palm, and feeling his powerless little form thrash fragilely for release that no power on earth could force her to provide.  The thought crossed her mind that he could break in her grasp.  His body could snap like the brittle stem of a winter flower.

Then she remembered.  She was in control.  The variables were at her infinite disposal now.  Anything, absolutely anything, was possible now.  All she had to do was imagine it, command it, and it could be so.

Jack moaned sorely and gazed up again at his sister’s face, pleading in his eyes.  A penitent sinner, having gone through his revelation too late.

Everything was far too late.

“You’re never going to talk like that to me again,” she said.  A massive smile crept over her lips.  “Never again, little boy,” she added spritely, and unleashed a mortifying giggle of unadulterated power.

There really is a God, Carly considered in the refreshing silence of Her brave new world.