Today, I'll kill my sister.
Okay. I know that's a terrible way to start a conversation. But please bear with me, as I slowly unpack the pile of shit that I'm dealing for pretty much my entire life. It's fucked up. It's bloody. And worst of all, it's hard to believe.
Alexandra was a toddler when she entered our lives, born 8 years after I did. The daughter of my mom's second husband. She had those sweet smiles and cute fat eyes and smooth skin that hypnotized everyone. My mom accepted her as her own child, knowing well that she will never bear a child again after her health-related struggles with me. She thought that little Alexandra was an angel. A sign that her hell with her previous husband - my father - was over. An embodiment of a better life ahead.
A sweet girl she was. A big fan of fruits, more than candies. Her sweetest face is the one covered in sticky fruit juices with tropical colours. But she's showered with sweets, nonetheless. Candies of all shapes and colours, all sorts of toys, clothes that made her look like anywhere between a Disney princess and a magical dwarf. She's spoiled. But I loved her. I never envied my toddler step-sister then. It's as if I understood all. How happy my mom was with our new life. And how happy my sister was with her colourful childhood.
Back then, it was a magical life. Just my kid self and my sweet sweet baby sister, enjoying our childhood. Those memories felt unreal. The '90s in general felt like a fever dream for some reason. I wouldn't say that it was all sugar and cream - look at our life before my mom got together with my stepfather. But it had a quality of freedom, innocence, and plain fun that I never got to taste again. I know what will you say: I grew up. You're correct. But there's another thing: I was fucked up.
Today, I'll kill my sister.
It's new year's eve. My daughter and I will have a little trip. To celebrate new year with my sister, who lives about 6 hours away from us.
The world is in a mindless frenzy of cheap horns and general merrymaking. An occasional firecracker would boom. Heck, even my daughter is jumping and squealing with joy. She is excited to meet her beloved aunt.
Not me. All I felt is dread. Today will be the first time that we'll see her again after years and years of time. Right now, I'm still gathering courage to be able to face her when we meet again.
I'm afraid of my own younger sister.
Although my daughter wants to see her, and I'm genuinely glad that this thing will at least be fun for my ten year old. I did everything to raise Emily right. To teach her respect and responsibility. I did my best to give her a childhood as colorful as her aunt's, while not turning her into a spoiled brat that she was.
Yes, Alexandra became a massive spoiled brat the moment she learned to talk. And she would always be hostile at me. It's partly my fault though, being a timid and reserved boy back then. A classic ideal bully target.
At 8 years old, she would go as far as call me "pig" or "loser", right in front of her friends. I was 16, and a loser.
I would sometimes find one of my things ruined. I would know that it's her, but how can I tell my parents?
Both my mom and my stepdad were inclined to side with their little angel daughter. In a slightly dramatic angle, I feel left out sometimes. It quickly came to the point where I never considered whining at them about little Sandra being a spoiled little brat. They were just a kiddie beefs after all.
But I did fight back. During our teenage years, I would use words like "whale" or "hippopotamus" just to poke her insecurities about her weight. She gained quite a bulging shape, but I've got to admit, she's definitely a princess at least in terms of looks. With her matured form, as well as model-like face, she's a tan-skinned, smooth-haired beauty. She joined in a few events, and I can vividly remember how stunning she can be when wearing a big dress.
But a big whale bitch she was, still. I couldn't forget that one incident at an internet café: places where you could rent a computer for a few hours to play games or whatever. It was late 2000's, and Facebook was not yet a cesspool of shit that it is today. It was relatively new. So when I sent her a photo of a whale through chat, her expected rage was preceded by curiousity. She kept on asking me how did I do that, sending a photo through chat. But I didn't tell her (just copy and paste the fucking thing, idiot). At home later that day though, she made up a story about me watching porn in front of her. And just like that, I wasn't allowed to be in an internet café anymore.
I was around 20 then. I was taking chemistry in college. I didn't mind, as I simply rented computers secretly. At those times, it was personal triumph, rebelling against their rule. I was careful not to get addicted to video games like every fucking parent warned during those times. But the solitary fun that they gave was rewarding.
The last straw, however, was that one day when my sister saw me cycling on the streets. I just graduated in college then, while she was more than halfway through highschool already. I got hit by a stray motorbike. Both the motorbike and my bike fell on the ground. The expected argument erupts. Alexandra, my sweet younger sister, told me that she didn't know me. And proceeded to narrate how it's my fault.
I lost a bit of money, but a lot of my dignity, and respect to my family. She's a bitch, but I never thought she would do something as far as that. Confrontations arised at home. But in the end, I left and cut them off my life.
Today, I'll kill my sister.
With this bottle of exquisite red wine that we will "gift" to her. Did I ever gave her a fucking gift? Probably not.
Hey sis! Long time no see! Here, I brought you a gift because I miss you! It's laced with poison that will kill you in about 8 hours after you drink it. The cause of death will be seen as alcohol overdose. Ha! I didn't get my chemistry degree for nothing, bitch.
We pack our things. The shining wine bottle being the last one to be put in our bag. It felt like Pandora's box. Open it and all hell will break loose.
More than a decade ago, though, an actual Pandora's box was opened, breaking all hell loose: Alexandra's superpowers.
Okay, I know what it sounds. But look. It ruined my life. It ruined me. And it put me in a place where the thought of her fears me. I was put beneath her. Waaaaay beneath her.
Sandra has an ability to shrink people. And what a uncannily powerful ability it was.
She used to tell me, rather disturbingly, that she'll always surpass me. She's right, as embarrassing as it is to admit. At school. In our little fights at home. In life.
That night, however, I discovered the absolute certainly of that statement.
It was a family reunion at the beach. A summertime trip. In this tropical country "summertime" means somewhere around April. We don't have "Spring Break", we have Summer Break.
I received their invitation. Apparently, both my mother and sister were begging me to come. I could only snicker, but I wondered: how the hell did they get my address? I was living fairly low-key somewhere in the city. In my cheap apartment. Nobody in this neighborhood know much about my past.
I attented the little party. It was at a cheap beach. It had been 3 years since I cut them off my life. But fortunately, there was no overdramatic greetings when we saw each other again. Sandra merely smiled when she saw me again, clad in a pretty blue sundress. She even kissed my cheeks as we met. I could smell the stuff covering her face: what I would imagine parabens or formaldehyde or benzene would smell like. Plastic and artificial. Nothing against women who wear makeup though. It's just my sister, whose kisses were as synthetic as the cosmetics she was wearing.
That night I got pitch black drunk. Okay, I admit it, I became an alcoholic somewhere in my life in that apartment. But apart from that, I can't really stomach trying to act like I enjoy their company. If I would exchange how are you's and life stories with them, I wouldn't do it sober.
That's when it happened.
At first, I thought I was dreaming. I woke up inside of the cottage, drenched in alcohol-induced sweat. The wooden cottage was wooshing with nightly ocean winds. There was a window there big enough to jump through. It was cold as hell.
It was a trippy awakening. My head ached in rhythmic pain that went in sync with my heart. My eye bulged everytime it throbs. The wooden floor was unusually smooth, oozing with that chestnut odour. Looking up, I saw a sight so brutal it felt like being hit by a truck. The cottage was blown into biblical proportions. Every fucking thing was huge..The worst part was... my sister. Sandra was standing by the window. She was wearing a simple white spaghetti top and a pair of black cotton shorts. The way she stood there, her round ass was protuding like a cartoonish reindeer's round nose. She was impossibly huge.
I shrank.
It took her a while to notice me awakening. And she practically bounced in joy when she did. Even at that point, I couldn't believe what was happening. I confronted her, learning that it was her who shrunk me. She told me she could simply shrink me forever, and hide me. Everyone will think that I left for good, and she can do whatever she wanted at me. I was speechless, feeling physically beaten. Together with the alcohol, it made me fall on the ground, almost crying. I had experienced many sneaky attacks and genius retailations from my younger sister when we were kids, but never did I feel defeat at such level.
A huge thing pushed my upper body up. Sandra forced me to stand up.. with her big toe. The glittery purple toenail was as big as my entire torso. It pushed my body to a standing position.
I wiped my tears and she merely giggled. She told me bullshits about how she wanted to protect me blah blah blah. I thought about cursing her, calling her names, pouring all my anger through words. But even my tongue was frozen in fear. So when she ordered me to kiss her big toe, I obeyed. When she ordered me to bring her flip flops, I obeyed. They were school bus sized and I had to push them. They're unbelievably heavy.
Then she ordered me to clean them... with my tongue... That's when I refused and tried to run away.
A stupid decision, but I'd rather experience whatever wrath she had then lose all of my dignity.
She quickly caught me, and before I can process being picked up, she threw me across the window. Towards the ocean.
I remember the flash of winds, then the concrete-like impact that I had with the sand. It was like thousands of pebbles, and I howled in pain. I felt like my entire body was bruised. But my struggle was not done yet. The pebbles were wet, and the raging sea was so loud it made my entire body tremble. There was so much salt in the air it stinged my eyes.
I remember the pink skies. It was sunrise. And I was crawling towards the cottage, gasping for help. I was struggling so much that when I saw my sister get out of the cottage, I felt not fear but desperation. I could barely contain my excitement as she walked towards me.
But instead of rescuing me, she kicked me back into the sea.
I started to crawl again, as fast as I could.
But she kicked me again.
I still crawled. Towards those rubber flip flops, knowing well that they'll kick my battered body into the sea for good.
I braced myself when I reached them. But when she didn't move her feet an inch, I started kissing the slippers without thinking. Licking them, wincing as I tasted the salty pebbles that were sand.
Sandra the bitch smirked, drinking her morning coffee. She picked me up and drilled me like a screw into the wet sand. She didn't stop until only my head was protuding on the sand. I couldn't move my body beneath. Then Sandra sat on the sand, her crotch right in front of my face. It's uncomfortable, but I swore I could catch whiffs of her crotch among the salty breeze. Even more uncomfortable, was the endless barrage of water behind me. It was getting louder and louder at every wave. It's getting high tide.
But Sandra just sat there without a care. Narrating her previous years without me. How she missed me. How it was her who got my address, as well as the one who insisted on inviting me. I didn't care. Not a single strand of my hair cares.
The sea soon went to where I am, going up to my chin and nose. I held my breath as the salty death wave was getting nearer. Perhaps intentionally, a big explosion erupeed from Sandra's crotch, hitting my face in a wave of odor so bad holding your breath wouldn't work. Sandra hit my face with a massive, coffee-induced fart. Believe me, I wasn't exaggerating when I said it felt like diving face first into literal shit. I coughed and cursed, gasping for air. Holy shit even my hangover was cast away. Just as I did, a massive wave engulfed my head. Sandra stood up and backed off, not wanting to make her short shorts wet.
I was coughing and crying when the wave went away. Sandra picked me up, pushing me out of the sand without much effort. I coughed up more seawater, as well as mortal fear. After that, I spat something else: rageful words. When she, crouching over me with that annoying face, challenged me with "what was that?", I exploded into an even more poisonous barrage of words.
Awkward, fearful silence followed. I squinted in fear, much to my dismay when she giggled, "oh, you were struck by a jellyfish?"
At first I was confused. This cheap beach was indeed notorious for its jellyfishes, most of which were harmless and would give you itchy skin at worst. I was even more confused when I saw her... undressing, pushing off her black shorts. I immediately looked down on the sand. It was too late when I realized.
The waterfall of yellow fluid fell over my back in a scalding downpour. I crawled away from it, but everywhere I go, the disgusting stream follows me. The ammonia felt like they're burning my skin and eyes. I could even taste it in the air around me.
I called my sister something new that moment: sick. And until today, I believe that's what she is. A sick bitch.
She threw me on a shower room, and that's when I grew back. I was trembling in fear and rage. I gathered my things and immediately left, cursing at myself for agreeing with the invitation.
But before I could exit the damn resort, Sandra appeared and stopped me, scolding me for leaving without letting them know. I yelled at her with tearful eyes. We had a bit of a confrontation. But when she lowered her voice and told me to just let our mother know, touching my shoulders, I broke down. Crying a bit. Not only in embarrassment and rage, but also for mom. It wasn't her fault, at least wasn't significantly her fault. So I agreed and said my goodbyes to mom. And only mom. Sandra remarked on how busy I was because of my rent and utilities which were due next week. As if the sick bitch know a thing about me.
On my way home though, the little remark was bothering me in increasing degree. It's the simple fact that it's true. I was struggling with rent and utilities, which were due exactly a week from that day.
Today, I'll kill my sister.
And perhaps that's the reason I am extra gloomy today. We marched across the neighborhood. It was bustling with new year's joy.
We waved hello to some of our neighbors. There were kid playing around. The men in the neighborhood were already setting up tables, speakers, and decorations for their respective parties tonight.
It was a nice neighborhood, albeit filled with much pretentiousness. It was a contrast to the neighborhood that I had in my rented room. Filled with alcoholic middle agers and loud young adults on motorcycles, it was a solid environment. I thought that my timid ass would sink there, but instead the people there listened and welcomed me warmly.
After the traumatizing beach trip with that bitch, I nearly drowned myself in alcohol. I couldn't really process what happened, what she did, what she said. I usually did that with my pal Allan. Guy was a security guard. I shared many of my personal problems with him, but I never told him about that incident.
The only one whom I talked to about it was the old man at the local eatery. The jolly grandpa became my friend in that organic way that happens when you see each other nearly everyday. I often eat breakfast there, and sometimes buy cooked goodies for lunch. He was a phenomenal cooker, and an amazing listener. He even left me a few advices. Although I didn't buy his speculation that my sister had a magic amulet. Right before April that year, he went missing. At the same time, I had a daughter.
Emily was born to the gorgeous girl that often walks with me to work. Anika. Been seeing her for a few months. I even stopped - okay, reduced - my alcohol sessions for her.
I received yet another invitation from Sandra. Instead of a neat envelope covered paper, it was in a form of an unwelcome knock at my door. Bitch had the audacity to hug me and ask about the baby. I pushed her away in shock. She not only know my address but also that I have a whole ass kid.
She simply sat on a chair and slowly took off her chunky white rubber shoes. My heart dropped as she took a small figure from inside. At first it looked like a grey piece of broken cloth. But I realized it was a tiny person. A tiny person I knew: the grandpa from the eatery.
I fell on my knees and almost cried seeing him barely breathing and full of bruises, making him appear like a grey alien. Loads of different questions and exclamations bottled in my throat. As I looked up at her, I couldn't say a syllable.
Sandra only smiled and said, "nobody should know, right old man?" She waved the struggling man, addressing him with barely a respect. As if he's below her despite being decades older. As if he's not a nice person who cooks the best porridge and the tastiest stews.
She looked at my eyes, "nobody should know," she said again, her brown eyes glowing. They could've been pretty, if not ominous.
To both our shock, the tiny man called my name. I felt tears in my checks as he said his goodbyes.
Sandra frowned and immediately put him back in her shoe, "did I tell you to talk, old bastard?"
I tried to take him back, but she pushed me and swayed me to the side. I stood up and threw my fists at her, shouting as I did. Soon, my pal Allan appeared at the door, he looked unusually worried for a tough guy.
Without thinking, I pointed at Sandra like a kid, "look at the shoe look at the shoe!"
There, the old man was already poking his head.
"Jesus," he mouthed, already recognizing the tiny man.
Suddenly, my world spun and I fell on the floor. I looked around and saw my gigantic living room. I shrank.
I spotted Allan, also shrunken. He was cowering as he looked up in the sky. Before I could turn my head up, I saw Sandra's socked foot crashing like a meteor.
It landed right on Allan with an earth shattering thud. I could hear how he crushed - he sounded like a jelly.
Upon removing her foot, she cursed for the bloody mess she made. Her sock had a black-red spot, with semi-solid red bits falling off. I could see my pal there on the floor, barely recognizable as he twitched there.
I called her every poisonous word I could muster, literally blind with rage. But all she could give in exchange are two answers: "do you have spare socks?" and "will you go to our trip or should I make you go?
For the second question, I picked the former.
It was another dumb summer trip. And like last time, it's mostly composed of my stepfather's family. A public resort. Hod knows why does my sister want me so bad to be in there.
I did everything I could to stay away from those fuckers. I walked with my baby and my wife to far away pools or sites. But Sandra would always appear and find me. She was quite fond of little Emily back then. She would coo and giggle as she carry the baby, as if she's a normal, sweet young girl.
It's distressing to see her carry our child, but we didn't complain much. At least it temporarily take away Sandra's domineering, cold attitude.
Our mother would also play with Emily. But we're also cautious about it. Not that I hate mom, but she was coughing like hell. And of course I wouldn't want to expose my little girl to whatever germ was in her lungs.
At one point, Sandra carried the baby to a pool. Everyone was laughing as she splashed in the chlorinated water. Sandra pointed at me. "Look daddy will slide there!" she said, pointing at a big red tube that snakes its way from above to the water. Sandra and my wife Anika nudged me and told me to go slide there. I happily went to the slide. I can't believe that moment. It was like we're normal siblings. It was too good to be true.
And it was. When I went through the tube, the water overpowered my entire body, engulfing me and shooting me through the splash with the speed of a bullet. When I saw the light and fell into an ocean of plastic-tasting water, that's when I realized: I shrunk.
Sandra and Anika were there, waiting for me. I swam towards my wife, but the small waves were like tsunami to me, engulfing me and pushing me in different directions in all three axes.
I heard Anika being impatient for me. Sandra told her to go look at the slide. So she slowly threaded her way out of the pool, away from us.
"No no no come back!" I said, swimming towards her, "com ba-" A wave smacked my body. Water making its way to my nose and throat.
Suddenly, I felt my chest being squeezed. Then I saw my sister's car-sized manicured fingers on my torso. Her thumb on my left side, and her index on my right side. I can't be bigger than an inch.
I was raised off the water. Then I saw my baby's giggling face with astounding, almost gross details.
"This is daddy!" he heard Sandra say. She then put me behind her head, "and this is Auntie Sandra!"
I heard the baby giggle.
"Who's the bigger one?" Sandra bursted, making the baby giggle, "Auntiee!!!"
"Who's the better one?" she said again, "Auntieeeee!!"
"Adjeeee!" the baby said.
Sandra bursts into a happy gasp, "yes baby, Auntiee!"
I just hanged there helplessly, humiliated as Sandra played with my own daughter.
Sandra stopped cooing and looked somewhere far. I looked towards that direction and saw my wife coming back into the pool, walking towards us.
Without warning, my world shifted and everything went dark. And wet. A surfuric smell smacked my lungs, making me fall into the hot, soft floor. A flood of thick liquid instantly covered my body.
I was in someone's mouth. Sandra's mouth, obviously.
A gargantuan force fell from above, pinning me into the saliva flooded ground. I screamed from below her tongue, only to take a handful of my sister's spit. I tried to cough it out, but I ended up drinking even more.
Sandra spoke, her tongue moving at impossible speed and force from above. She told my wife to take rest and will let her know if her missing husband is back. Little did she know that he's right there, trying to move from under a freaking tongue.
Soon, the tongue shifted and a barrage of spit filled the entire cavern. I could barely move as the sticky goo covered me entirely. I was pushed through the teeth and the lips. I came back to light, but my vision was obscured by the thick layer of saliva on my eyes. I fell from her lips, but was supended midair. I could feel the string of spit holding me back, slowing my descent towards what looks like her palm.
When I finally fell, I coughed up liters of saliva. Wiping my face, I trembled in disgust and humiliation. I looked up at Sandra, who was wiping off the string of spit in her chin. The baby was gone. She was probably taken by my wife.
"Please," I said through the coughing fits, "stay away from us! Why are you even doing this?"
Sandra merely frowned as I beg in her palm, "we're family, Stanley".
I stayed there, unable to stop trembling. Shocked to hear my own name from her lips.
"Who's the better sibling, Stan?"
"Sandra, please!" I began again.
"I said who's the better sibling?"
I decided to say what she wanted to hear, "you"
"What is it?"
"You!" I said.
"You what?"
"You Sandra! You're the better sibling! Happy now?"
Sandra smirked, "and who's the better one that little Emily would learn?"
That made me angry, "don't involve my family in this!"
Her smile disappeared, "who's the better one that she'll learn? Auntie or daddy?"
"No," I gasped.
Two fingers caught my head, almost squishing it. I grunted as I flew towards her gigantic lips, which said "are your ears too tiny to hear or what?"
"Auntie!" I stammered, "auntie. She'll learn that auntie is better."
"And what happens if she didn't learn that?"
"Sandra please!" I said, "leave the child out of this. Leave my family out of this."
"Of course I won't hurt them. If Emily didn't learn that I'm better than her stupid father, I will punish you, the stupid father. Understand?"
I couldn't forget the bubble forming below my chin as I nodded my spit covered head.
Sandra went out of the pool. In the shower, she put me under her pile of heavy, dripping wet swimsuit. After showering, she picked me up and to my horror, her finger went even bigger. I shrank into a size so small I could put my hand between the grooves of her fingerprints.
What came next was arguably the worst thing I have ever experienced with Sandra. She put me under her biggest toenail. Under the massive pedicures toenail, there was a small mass of black goo. I was inserted there and it wrapped me like it's quicksand. It's the foulest smelling shit I have ever heard. And that's saying something considering I was a chemistry major who dealt with all sorts of foul smelling chemicals. Sandra's toe jam reeked of bitter, funky odor that physically hurts my lungs. I thought I'd die just from the dizzying stench alone.
I stayed there for pretty much the rest of the vacation. I heard Sandra bringing my baby to the park, playing with her and talking to her in that sweet sweet voice. It was as if she forgot about me, and forgot about being the demonic witch that she was.
Today, I'll kill my sister.
My daughter and I step into the car. I smile at her as she beams there with excitement.
We'll go there to celebrate new year. Celebrating new years together was actually a tradition. Or maybe it is more of an agreement than a tradition. An agreement that goes back to one tragic day in 2014, almost a year after that summer trip that I mostly spend under Sandra's toenail.
Our mom died of pneumonia. Apparently, that was the cough that she was having during that summer trip...
I rushed to a taxi. It was about 4 in the morning, and we don't have a car yet.
When I met her at the hospital, I smacked her face. Then rained my fists on her. Guards had to restrain me. I confronted her, asking her why didn't she tell me. Why didn't she do anything for our mom's health. She retailiated by telling me how she spend her last days without me, her real biological child. And how I hated being with my "own" family. I almost divulged her secret, in front of all those hospital personnel. In the end, incredibly, both of us fell into a tearful hug. The first genuine embrace that I got from her, perhaps ever.
We're still faily cold to each other during the funeral. But I saw a warm glimmer of hope there. Especially when we did the actual agreement: we'll leave each other alone, but I will visit her home every new year. To celebrate. To stay in touch with each other.
I thought that such a tragedy will change her. Will turn her into a better person. Will cast away her witchy bitchy self.
I was wrong.
The 2015 new year at her home was headache-inducing. Loud. Messy. Brimming with people. She invited all sorts of people: friends, coworkers, her father's relatives, and even some of our mother's relatives.
She treated us like shit. Introducing me like some sort of a random lowlife rather than her own sibling. After mom died, both of us inherited a small fortune. Both of us started a new business. Sandra developed a small eatery, which was flourishing already. While my petty fruit business was riddled with rent-related problems. I guess she's definitely the better sibling, at least she is when you removed attitude out of the question.
Instead of letting myself burst with alcohol-catalyzed rage. I pulled my wife and my 2 year old outside of her home. We decided to just walk around outside. I didn't really care if the firecrackers scared my baby. I simply gave her face mask for the smoke, replacing it everytime it got messed up with her snot.
It was already 2015 when we came back to her house. I decided to let my wife and poor little Emily sleep already. Several moments later, Sandra appeared and ordered me to clean up the mess in the living room. That's what she did, humiliating me in front of my wife and baby.
So I went to the living room and confronted her there.
She told me how she's frustrated that she barely saw me throughout the party. I told her that she treated me like shit and that she's a boastful asshole.
We argued back and forth. Her telling me bullshit about us being family. She brought up the restraining order, which I tried to tackle way before mom died, after the toenail incident.
My friend referred me to a lawyer for that. Both the friend and the lawyer went missing.
"So it's you!" I gasped, "what did you do to them?"
As an answer, she shrank me there.
"Fine, if you don't want to clean up, don't!"
She turned away, but both of us stopped when we heard another voice. From the window, a plump woman was gasping. I recognized her as Sandra's friend. Even at that size, I could see her large figure in the window. Her round eyes going back and forth between me and Sandra.
To my surprise, Sandra... the monster... shrank her friend. Her close friend.
When she bent to pick up the shrunken woman through the window, I realized how short her skirt was. To my disgust, I caught a generous glimpse of her white panties, tucked against her ass. She has quite a sexy figure. I remember a homily at the church that I heard as a preteen: demons are not ugly like in the movies, they're very, very attractive.
Not to say that I'm sexually attracted to my own sister, but that short moment made me think about how gorgeous she actually was.
She caught her friend, flailing against her fingers. She then looked at me, then to her.
"No one should know," she muttered, then dropped the shrunken woman to the floor. Before she could recover, Sandra's bare foot slowly setted on her plump body, the crimson nails glistening against the lights. She screamed as it slowly grinded more and more into her body.
"Sandra, please! I'm your friend!!!" were her last words.
She popped into a sickening red mess, like a mere grape.
"No one should know," Sandra repeated, glaring at me. She then revealed how she used my friend and the lawyer into playthings. Making them clean her toes with their tongue, and paint her nails. They end up either a pulp under her foot, or a speck flushed in the toilet. The old man from the eatery, apparently, suffered the same fate.
"Now you know," she continued, "so you better not do anything stupid again. Like that restraining order shit. I'm watching you, Stanley, I'm watching you."
I stayed there, speechless for a moment.
"I'll clean the place up," I muttered.
"No," she grinned, "just clean my feet instead. Let's see if you're any better than them."
She walked towards a drawer with one foot. The bloody foot raised up. She fished out a box containing nail care stuffs.
She gave me some cotton balls and ordered me to clean up the remains of her friend in her sole. I was trembling in disgust.
She then asked me to clean her feet up with my tongue. I had a panic attack upon seeing the black jam beneath her nails again. I retched as I got a whiff of the odor.
I looked up and saw Sandra looking down at me with such imposing eyes. How can she look so... regal? I didn't know. It made me fall on my knees and scrape the disgusting black mass with my hands.
"Did I tell you to use your hands idiot?"
I froze in fear, "I-"
"Use your tongue or you're going beneath my toenail again until tomorrow!"
Tears in my face, I licked the underside of her biggest toe. I vomited immediately afterwards.
I cried like a kid in fear of what Sandra would do. But she didn't get mad. She simply gave me cotton balls to clean up the puke and told me to not stop. I felt pathetic for being such a pussy. I puked at least 3 more times as I clean up all her toenails. I don't even want to describe the taste. So bitter yet so sour. So foul...
Painting her nails was more tolerable. While the overpowering smell of the touelene in the nail polish hurts my lungs, it's not as bad as licking off toenail jams. In fact, it was a fairly absorbing activity. Even as Sandra fell asleep on the couch, her cheeks beet red and a glass of wine in her hand, I continued painting her toenails. I knew since we were kids how much she loved it. I almost wept with nostalgia.
After the job done, exhaustion and melancholic memories put me to sleep beside the massive toes.
The morning after it, I've never seen her so thankful to me. She even gave me a Christmas gift: money for my fruit business's rent, as well as hugs and kisses.
I refused the money, but Sandra insisted. I don't have an energy to argue, so I took the damn money and gave her a genuine thanks as well.
Today, I will kill my sister.
I glance at my daughter's hands, they were painted in cute pink and yellow colours. She knew how my 37-year-old male ass can do that: it's because of my better sibling, her Auntie Sandra. She didn't know though, why I have a phobia on painting her toenails. And an even bigger phobia with her aunt.
She loves her aunt. But I love my daughter. So I'll do anything to protect her. Even if it means running away from my sister forever. Or murdering her, for that matter.
After the incident in 2015 new year's day, I decided to run away from her. My wife, thankfully, didn't ask too much questions. She understood the way I felt when Sandra treats me like that. She's understanding, that's why I loved that girl so much.
We went to a fairly low-key home in the countryside. I stopped my stupid fruit business. I instead had a position at the fair-paying government-owned utility service where I can actually use my chemistry degree. I thought that Sandra couldn't bother us there. I doubt if she could find us at all.
And hence a relatively peaceful 2016 new year. It's crazy how I broke the agreement after only 1 iteration. But it was worth it. The celebration at that small town wasn't as loud and smoky as last year. We had a simple yet incredible feast made with meat and vegetables fresh from the farm. As the new year arrived, I thought we had a great life ahead of us.
Then Sandra found us.
Her eatery - now a restaurant - announced a grand opening of a branch near our town, on her birthday. Our suspicion was confirmed when they announced that Sandra's "family members" will have free food.
Despite showing her worst during our last meeting, I could tell that she softened a bit towards us. I still felt kinda guilty for selling the fruit shop after Sandra helped me recover it. I also felt guilty for not visiting her last new year. So we went. I even bought her a necklace, I knew how much she loved jewelry. Even as a kid, she looked a dozen times more regal with a piece of silver in her body.
It was fairly uneventful. We just ate and talked and that's it. She asked me why didn't we visit last new year. I countered by asking her how did she find us, and why wouldn't she leave us alone.
"You can't hide forever, brother. I will always find you. And I'll always watch you. Anyone who would try to stop me..." she trailed off.
I just sat there, thinking about what happened to some of my friends, and even one of her friends.
"So , let's hang out this new year at home, shall we?" she said, smiling her cutesy smile. The smile evaporated, "or else..."
I watched as she took a sugar figurine on her strawberry birthday cake. It was that of a woman on a dress. She put the candy woman's head in her mouth, sucking on it like a lollipop. All of that she did while staring at me. I merely watched.
She smiled and bit the candy woman's neck. The candy figure exited her mouth, headless and oozing with strawberry jam. The jam was thick and red, like... blood.
Sandra smiled her sweet smile, but her teeth was glistening red with bits of sugar.
I stood up and walk away. That's the moment I became certain that she's a psycho. Someone straight out of horror movies.
But like an idiot horror movie character, I still visited her on new year. It was the biggest mistake of my life. But that night, Sandra made her biggest mistake as well.
To cut the already long story short, my wife Anika became fed up of Sandra belittling me and ordering me around, as well as me letting her do whatever she wanted like an NPC. That was my approach that night. I always stayed sober and close to my wife like a 5 year old clinging to his mom. That's the only way I can avoid another round of being my sister's shrunken toy.
My wife and sister had a little confrontation. Anika, being surprisingly tomboyish sometimes, planted a solid punch in Sandra's cheek. She yelled about all the times she belittled us, since she met her.
To my utmost horror, my wife shrank before my eyes. All the blood in my body froze and I fell on my knees.
"No, Anika! Sandra!"
But as I turned to my sobbing sister, I realized that I too was shrinking. I decided to at least save my wife, kneeling and begging for forgiveness. Going as far as kissing the floor.
My wife kicked me, shouting at me for being pathetic in front of my "monster" sister.
My sister chimed in and said that my wife is the one who is pathetic. She accused her of being a useless wife.
It was my turn to be mad. But my sister immediately told me that she was just protecting me. That only made me more angry.
She then brought up our parenting with Emily. The then 4 year old was on another room, happy after Sandra had her brimming with toys and other gifts. Spoiling her like how she was spoiled before. Both of us got mad, telling her to leave the kid out of this.
Sandra smiled and turned to me, asking "who's the better parent, me or you?"
My wife and I were both stunned, but when she repeated her question, I answered what she wanted to hear. In front of my wife, I told her that she's a better parent for Emily than me.
But she threw another question: "who's the better parent, me or your wife?"
We looked at each other for a long time, with me shaking my head slowly, communicating that I don't mean what I will say.
I told my sister that she's a better parent than my wife, who was weeping now.
She told us how fair it she raised Emily herself, taking her away from us. Shrinking us and never growing us again.
I went full begging mode again. I didn't care. I would spend days in her fucking toenail jam if that meant saving my daughter from her. I kissed her feet. It's not like it was the first time I did it anyway.
I almost cried in relief when she acknowledged my begging. But my hopes ran dry when she addressed my wife. She ordered her to beg and kiss my sister's gargantuan toes as well. Anika was weeping, her eyes glowing with rage. I went to her and touched her hand, telling her it's okay.
So she slowly went to Sandra's left foot. She started kissing the biggest toe.
"Too late!" Sandra shouted.
Then the foot in front of Anika raised up high, then crushed with a groundbreaking boom... on Anika. I let out an equally groundbreaking scream. Going towards the foot as it raised high again, above Anika's bleeding twitching figure.
The foot went down on the side, then Sandra's other foot caught my neck between the two toes. I flailed and cried and cursed as she took me away from my struggling wife. She pinned me under her foot, putting so much weight I was convinced I'm gonna get crushed slowly. I could see my wife there, still weeping as the left foot raised above her again.
It fell with another big THUD!
My wife was pulverized. But incredibly, she was still moving. Crawling even. She was a fighter you see, a meaty woman with a will of steel.
The shadow around us shifted as Sandra leaned forward. Then in a flash, Anika's shrunken, struggling form was buried under a white-yellow mountain. The mass was full of bubbles and having very thick, lava-like texture. I gasped upon realizing that my sister's spit, a mere wad of pleghm, is what ended my beautiful wife's life.
I was devastated. And I couldn't do anything in retaliation. I stayed shrunken for a while, but when little Emily cried, she was covinced to let me grew back.
I seized the opportunity to leave the house immediately. I didn't care if it was literally new year, with barely a place to go.
Even as we welcomed 2017 inside a fucking car, Emily was still crying for her mommy. Heck, even I was doing the same.
Tonight, I will kill my sister.
We will see her again, after about half a decade.
I sent her an email. Latest news is about her restaurant becoming as successful as ever, earnings her hundreds of thousands if not millions. So yeah, what we're going to is a mansion, not the trauma-inducing flat where she killed my wife.
Seven years ago, after the loss of my wife, there was this whole drama surrounding her disappearance. Sandra's relatives even threatened to take away my then three year old. I couldn't tell them the truth. Aside from how bullshit it sounded, it requires admitting that I wasn't able to do anything to stop it. That I was a useless husband. Also, they'll probably be caught by Sandra as soon as they know. Like what happened to all the friends that I told.
I was powerless. Always watched by her. I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't seek help. So I succumbed into silence.
We retreated here. In a private, closed subdivision. Rows after rows of similar-looking houses. One of them became our little home. We hid there, together with our dirty little secret.
We didn't saw her again for a while. Not the subdivision's security can stop her: even as kids, I knew how sneaky she can be.
She did find us after more than a year.
Being a creepy ass bitch that she was, she announced her presence in a form of toys, given to my daughter as gifts. She said Sandra would go there right after dismissal, giving her the gift for "being a good girl for daddy" or something like that.
The gifts would have a note, saying how sorry she was. At least at first. Then it turned into threats. She knew a hundred ways on how to take my daughter away from me.
I was helpless as she showered Emily with toys. I told the school's guards to not let Emily talk to anyone but me, but of course they couldn't just do that as they track hundreds of other kids. I tried considering a restraining order, and alas, the lawyer went missing again. And I know what exactly happened. I would try to tell Emily to stop talking to her beloved aunt, or throw away those junk that she gave her. But that would always subject me to my preschooler's wrath.
It went that way for a couple of years. Then pandemic happened. It all stopped.
A few months went by and the work-from-home scene went into a golden age. I was able to secure a nice position. When schools reopened, I enrolled Emily to a better private school. It has a school service system, which transports some students to and from the school. The bitch Sandra wouldn't be able to give gifts now even if she tried.
Tonight, I'll kill my sister.
As we find ourselves in front of a massive metal gate, talking to some security person through the walls, I know that it just began. The gates open, letting out a smooth whir that almost sounds like a sigh. So this is what entering in hell feels like.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
Nahh, I'm not here to be damned. I'm here to kill Satan herself.
It is quiet in Sandra's place, which is a big thing on New Year's Eve. Somewhere, a distant firework would boom, but even that would sound softer than the birds chirping here.
Then there's the house. I gasped in admiration, much to my own shame. It's bathed not in the expected white and grey, but in lively tan and pale yellow. It looked like something out of a stock photo of an Italian scene. It's not big, but it's gorgeous. Beside me, Emily jumps up and down, squealing in delight as her eyes eat up her aunt's home.
We enter the lobby. It is pretty big, with a simple chandelier glittering way above us. It's not luxurious or grand. It lacks the luster of gold and the exquisiteness of velvety red. But it's still big enough to impose a leverage above me. I already feel small, and Sandra haven't even shrank me yet.
In the living room beyond, we see a middle-class yet very neat scenery. The mahogany floor gives off such a warmth.
And there she is.
My sister. My nemesis. My old friend.
She is wearing a light white dress that flows with the small gusts of winds in this room. It exposes much of her shoulders, and covers her chest in a fabric with intricate patterns. The boobs themselves protude just below those patterns. A perverted sharp eye can probably pick up the color of her C or D-cup bra beneath the thin cotton dress.
She smiles. She still have those cat-like eyes, small nose, and plump lips. Her dirty blonde hair is as smooth and vibrant as ever.
"Hello, brother."
Emily runs to her, catching her in an embrace. Sandra hugs her and greets her. Then she walks up to me.
She smiles and kisses my cheeks.
"Long time no see," she says. I am confused when I see her eyes. They are glittering.
"Nice place you got here," I stammer.
She giggles and lets us sit in the living room. I expect her to give me a litany of blah blah blah my business blah blah blah. But instead she gives us a sweet, "glad you liked it."
We talk for a while. If you can call random sentence bursts along awkward silence "talking". Weirdly, Sandra chose to celebrate the new year with us. And only us.
Not in her mini mansion though...
She walks us to the edge of a cliff. Which is funny, as if she provided an easier way for me than the bottle of wine I'm holding.
The view there is a sprawling show of city lights, alive in this special evening.
"Remember 2017 new year?" Sandra says, "Firecrackers were banned for the first time. And it's raining! Can you believe that? Rain at New Year's evening?!"
"It was my first new year without you..." she goes quieter.
"They say it was the most boring New Year ever. No firecrackers and stuff. Boredom sounds like a silly excuse for firecrackers and it is. But...
"It's more about the tradition. What we do every year for fun."
Sandra and I look at each other. I know what she means by "tradition".
"Tradition is what binds us right?" she says.
Silence. It goes on for a while.
Then Sandra bursts, "that's why I brought firecrackers!"
In the next few hours, we launch small rockets, blow up tiny bombs, and light up cracking rocks. Not gonna lie, it's the most fun the three of us ever had. Ever.
A few moments from now, I'll kill my sister.
Two important events in New Year with Sandra are Emily's gift opening and our usual wine drinking.
Her auntie told Emily she has a super special gift tonight. And it's so important she has to open it without me. To be honest, I don't have a good feeling about that one.
As for the latter, the usual routine will go on. Sandra and I will drink wines and greet each other a happy new year.
But in the next hours, the antidote I injected into myself will swiftly break down the poison. While Sandra... will spend her last hours in a slumber.
We set up the fireworks at one corner for the big hour. Then the wine-drinking table, right beside the cliff's railings.
"Daddy has a gift for you, Auntie!" my daughter squeals, marking the beginning of it all.
I then set up the expensive wine on the table. Sandra gasps and admires the shiny bottle.
I practically freeze when she says, "why don't we try it right now?"
Right now, I'll kill my sister.
We pour out the glasses. We cheer and gulped the blood-red alcohol down our throats.
Again and again, we did.
"Thanks bro, it's amazing," she says.
"Yeah," I say, almost slurry now.
"You remember chess?" she says.
"Uh uh?" I respond. Girl is probably drunk already. But of course it's not only alcohol that fucking up her body right now.
I then felt a wave of guilt, as I realize that I'm talking to her while she's literally dying.
Is that why she's bringing up childhood memories???
"You suck at it," she says, giggling, "I was like, only 9 and you're like... 16, 17? Already in high school... yet I always beat you."
"Yeah," I nod slowly, "yeah."
"Even back then, you were nothing to me."
I keep nodding, letting my drunkenness subdue my impending rage and humiliation.
"I can see through all your moves. You're predictable, and easy to manipulate.
"Because you know, in chess. You have to know all your opponents moves? That's what I did in my life...
"I know all of your moves. Your online job... your home in that subdivision... everything. And I'm glad you're doing pretty well."
I stand up on my seat, "what are you trying to say?"
"Relax, bro. I know all these because of my connections. That's another thing you didn't learn in life, Stan. You cannot rise up by being a timid little hermit that even his kid sister can boss around."
I stand up and stagger away, walking away from her. I know this is the perfect time to flee the scene. I gotta walk to my daughter and get out of here.
"Where are you going?" she shouts after me. The pleading in her voice makes me a bit guilty again. I am literally leaving her for death.
I remind myself that she killed my wife.
I turn around and face her, thinking of words to use as goodbye.
"If you're here only to belittle me instead of having fun, then we're out."
"You're not here to have fun, you're here to try to kill me."
I turn around, freezing in an instant, "I don't know what you're talking ab-"
I feel her palm smack against me cheek.
I slap her too.
Then we explode into a flurry of fists and palms.
I push her towards the rails.
YOU TRIED TO KILL ME YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!
YOU KILLED MY WIFE YOU KILLED MY WIFE!
I stagger away. I turned around and see my daughter, playing with sparkling light sticks, unaware of her aunt and father fighting. I turn to my shocked sister.
I slowly walk to her, tears streaming in my eyes, " I'm sorry, I'm sorry sis!"
I go closer to her. With trembling hands, I wipe her own tears.
I smile as her lips slowly curl into a smile.
I braced myself.
And push her as hard as I could through the railing...
But I haven't pushed anything.
Instead... I fall forward to the ground on my chest. I get up and see that in front of me is an unfamiliar building. A pillar of black leather. Sandra's gigantic shoes.
"No no no!" I look up and see my sister's face obscuring the sky.
"I told you I know all your moves," she smiles as she looks down on me, "the antidote to your little wine poison... it's quite easy to make."
My knees and arms feel weak and I fall on the ground, crying uncontrollably, "no no no, please!"
"I know what you tried to do, and no amount of begging can redeem it!" Sandra's massive high heels disappeared and suddenly fell on me with astronomical force.
I can only gasp as my entire body becomes paralyzed in pain.
"I know all of it, and I countered it all Stan! You know what that means? You are checkmated!"
She stomps on me again, but only on my right leg. I yelled in pain as she grinds it like it's a cigarette butt.
"Do you like my shoes? It's a special shoe I made just for you, look!" she picks me up and puts me under the heel. To my surprise, a leather rope bounds me by my stomach, squeezing it tight.
Sandra stand up, and there I am, tied up beneath the sole, in the gap under the high heels.
What kind of shoe is this?
As if reading my mind, Sandra says, "I have about 3 more back at home. Running shoes. Sneakers. Boots! Boy you gotta see them!"
She then walks. At every step, I fly and fall near the ground. It is nauseating.
Finally, it stops.
"Auntie!" I hear Emily's voice from the sky, "where's daddy?"
"Oh, daddy went somewhere in the house. Why don't we go there and get your special gift while he's gone?"
"EMILY!" I shout, "DADDY'S HEREE! HELP ME EMILY!"
"LET'S GO, QUICK!" Sandra shouts, drowning out my voice.
I then hear Emily skipping away.
I am then raised up, meeting the face of my sister.
"Please, I'm sorry. Please," I say.
"Are you really willing to show up to your daughter like this? Are you willing to make her know?"
"Know what?"
"You know what happens to people who know," Sandra says, her voice sinister.
"No... no you won't!"
"You really don't know my moves, that's why you always lose, Stan! You lost!" she shouts at me.
I then shrink even more, and in an amazing way, the leathery leash on my stomach automatically adjusts to keep me tied up.
"SANDRA NO! NOT MY DAUGHTER!" I cry.
But Sandra merely stares at me, "you're pathetic. HUUUK..."
The world explodes in a white goo. Sandra's spit. It covered my body in a sticky slime.
The same shit that killed my wife.
It drips to the ground as she walks, but much of it stayed sticking on my trembling body.
"NO NO! SANDRA! NOT MY DAUGHTER! SANDRA PLEASE! SANDRA! ALEXANDRA I'M SORRY I'LL DO ANYTHING!"
No matter how much I shout though, my sister wouldn't hear me down here, at the size of a bread crumb. Tied up beneath her feet and covered in her spit.
A few moments ago, I killed my sister.
And I failed.
Now I'm in a glass cage hanging suspended in the ceiling. A drop from here at this size, an inch, would kill me. Trying to escape the cage would break the thin string that suspends this glass cage. So I couldn't move much, or else this fragile cage would fall with me.
That's where my life is hanging now, on a fucking thin string. I guess this is swift karma for what I tried to do.
But at this thought, my mind would nag: what about my wife?
Sandra has shoes that ties me up at any size. A set of clothes for a one inch tall doll. Glass cages like this one.
She has everything prepared.
She can keep me forever as her toy.
That's her move. That's her attack. In contrast to my stupid poisoned wine.
It's unfair. How can a person eight years younger be so much better than me? What did I ever do?
I curl up there. The glass prison sways slowly.
Suddenly, the massive door opens. I turn and look down, but instead of my sister, it was Emily, my daughter.
"Daddy?"
Shit.
"Emily..." I say, breathing so hard and fast that my glass prison shakes.
Emily stares up at me.
"Emily. Get out of here! Your auntie wouldn't like you here. You didn't see anything okay?"
"Why?"
"Listen Emily!" I say, now crying, "I love you so much! I love you very much. Auntie Sandra may be better than me, but she will never love you more than I do!"
"Don't cry daddy. I love you too!"
I break down in tears, and the glass prison trembles so much that the string snaps in half.
I fall.
This is it, I think.
I hit the floor, but the glass prison didn't break. Not even a single tap sound. In fact, the floor seems too... warm.
"Gotch you, daddy!" Emily's face emerges from above, her hands around my prison.
I am speechless. I smiled. My daughter smiles back, her cute smile reminding me of her mom's.
"Quick! Hide me somewhere your Auntie can't find!"
Emily runs out of the room and into the living room.
"What is that Emily?" comes Sandra's voice from afar.
I find myself tucked against Emily's back.
"Hi Auntie!" she says.
"What do you got there, baby?" Sandra says.
"Oh, it's daddy! And he's shrunken!" she answers, as casual as she can be.
She shows me to her Auntie. I am too shocked to even think. Emily isn't that stupid or gullible.
"Did you shrink him, Auntie?"
"Yeah."
"Can I shrink him too?"
Sandra laughs, "no, not yet. My special gift will only work when you grow up!"
"Why is he in a cage then?"
Sandra takes my cage and stares down at me, "he'd been bad, tried to push me off the cliff. So I punished him."
She turned to Emily, "Because who's the better one again?"
"You!" Emily giggled.
"So why don't we make him apologize then huh?"
Sandra fishes out a key and opens the cage. She then picks me up and throw ne on the floor.
I curl up there. I was so shocked I thought I'd shut down like an overloaded computer.
So many things revealed to take in.
I didn't even realized I grew back to my original size.
"Stanley! What do you say now?" Sandra says, almost in a mocking tone, "Stanley do you hear me?"
I shake my head. No. Not in front of my daughter.
"Stan? Do you hear me brother?" she says.
I then stand on all fours, "what did you give to my daughter?"
"Uh uh, that doesn't sound like a sorry," Sandra says. "Apologize..." her voice drops to a serious tone, "this is your last chance."
"I'm sorry," I mutter.
"Louder!"
"I'm sorry!!!"
"I can't hear you!"
"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY SANDRA! I'M SORRY, PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!"
"Kiss my feet?"
"What?"
"You heard me, kiss my feet to show you're sorry."
"What are you trying to show my daughter?"
"What happens to people who try to kill their sibling."
With tearful eyes, I plant my lips on Sandra's foot.
"Give each toe a kiss. Quick!"
Under the eyes of my own daughter, as well as my younger sister, I kissed each of the toes.
To my horror, the toes get bigger.
I'm shrinking.
"No no," I gasp.
"Did I tell you to stop, Stan?" Sandra says.
I resume, sobbing. Coughing as the foot funk batter my lungs. I continue to shrink. I can now see the black jam beneath the manicured toes. The sweat and the fingerprints appear before me in such detail.
By the time I reached the last toe - Sandra's left pinky toe, I'm half its height.
I fall on the floor, sobbing.
"Okay, I accept the apology! Now, Emily, why don't you go there and play with your new toys while daddy and I go talk?"
"Okay!" she says as she runs away.
Sandra then picks me up and brings me back to her room.
There, she orders me to lick her feet.
I am trembling as I lick her foot, oozing with sweat.
"I didn't mean to kill her," she begins.
I didn't dare stop licking, but I did slow down.
"You can stop now."
Silence. I cough a bit, spitting out bits of dirt and sweat from her feet.
"When I was a teen, you know... I promised myself... I'll protect you forever. My brother. Like how you protected me when we were kids.
"When you got away from home, I promised myself I'll find you, and never let anything bad happen to you.
"Failing business? I invited you so I can give you help. All those problems you have... I would fix if I can. When I discovered this power, it was like my prayers were answered"
"You're a stalker," I say, "a stalker with a superiority complex. Thinking you are a mighty hero."
"Maybe I am," she says, "but can't you see? I'm better. I'm superior. So I have every right to do whatever I want. I can turn you into a living toy, or squish you like a bug if I want.
"Your wife... I don't want to talk much about it. The only thing you have to know is that I regret it. I regret it all."
Sandra sniffles and wipes her eyes, "I never meant to hurt you like that."
"And no," she resumes, "I won't take away your daughter too. Nor would I take away you from her.
"All of these things... are for my new boyfriend."
"Boyfriend?" I say.
"Yes. I'm now seeing someone seriously. And you know what? I'm gonna turn him into my own plaything."
She motions to the shoes and the dollhouse and the glass prisons, "I prepared for this, you know? People like him... and you... they are meant to serve people like me."
I stare up at her, speechless.
"So this might be our last new year together."
"Huh?"
"Yes. I will understand if you don't want to see me anymore. Just have to get all these off my chest. After this, I won't bother you anymore. Ever."
She picks me up and put me on her thighs. I can feel the heat from the gigantic tubes of flesh ooze through the dress.
"Would you like that, brother? You and your daughter will never see me again, ever."
For a moment, I fell silent, then I muttered, "no."
"What was that?"
"No. We will still visit you Sandra. Sister."
Sandra's tear fell.
She grabs me and puts me against her stomach, right above her crotch. Her way of hugging me.
I hug her back, staggering to find my balance. I slowly fall downwards.
Then the dress flies away with the speed of the wind. I fall on Sandra's short shorts. The musky smell is strong here. It drains me of energy.
The shorts slowly slid down. I find myself on her pink panties.
I gasp as I stagger away from the thin fabric, the hungry pussy throbbing beneath it.
The panties soon went off.
And the pussy eats me before I know it.
Sandra's massive manicured finger pushes me deeper and deeper into to fleshy cavern. It is burning hot, and the smell is so strong it burns my lungs. The fleshy walls starts to grind my body as it gets deeper and deeper. I helplessly flail, not able to do anything.
Thick mucus entered my eyes, my ears, my mouth. It encased me. Buried me.
At this moment I just had a revelation. A first hand experience of how much superior my little sister is to me. She's beyond my imagination. So much that she can erase my being from existence. Cover me in her smell. The smell of her pussy. The smell of her Sandra-ness.
This act of eating me up in her crotch is subduing me in ways I can't imagine. My mind is brimming with Sandra. How complex the smell, the texture, the size of her body is. Even her toe is much more meaningful than my entire being.
I am like a whisper, while Sandra is like a megaphone shout. Right now, I'm experiencing being a whisper cast away by a megaphone shout.
When the tsunami of thick liquid poured over me, it is like a baptismal to a new religion. Where Sandra is the Goddess. The one I will offer my entire body to. Devote my entire life to.
This shit does not turn me on in the slightest, it only broke me.
Why does she weld so much power over me I don't know. All I know is this overwhelming desire to bow until I break my back, or bury myself until I'm under-under-under-underneath her. Submit to her every whim.
When I exit her pussy, I am a new man. And the being before me is a new woman.
I look up at her majestic face, coughing up some of her vaginal juices. In the distance, explosions can be heard, illuminating the sky in different colours. Those faint lights light up Sandra's face above me.
"Happy new year, bro. I love you."
"I love you too, sis"
Giantess World
Chapter End Notes:
Happy New Year everyone!
My new year's resolution will probably be not taking this thing too seriously! Hope you enjoyed it!