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You’re not sure when it happens exactly, as Carly’s continuous chest and ab massage with her finger has actually caused you to fall half asleep from the exhaustion, soreness, and calming cool of her touch, but when you manage to refocus yourself, you realize that your entire body is wrapped in the cool palm flesh of Carly’s right hand held high in the air, and she’s walking… somewhere.  Your eyes are too out of focus to figure it out.

                Even though your sister is holding you as gently as she can while still making it safe for you to not slip out of her palm, the sheer build-up of bruises and raw spots on your overly abused body is starting to take its toll, and even in such a light grip, her fingers cause you some pain just with the small push they have to give to keep you thoroughly encased in her fist flesh.

                You wonder whether or not you’ve managed to break something.  If you have, and your bone is broken somewhere in your body, you could easily puncture something with the sharp end.  If it happens to puncture the correct organ, you wouldn’t even need whatever is in store for you from your sister to do you in.  You could just die of internal bleeding with zero help in the way of medical attention or pain relief.  Carly would probably laugh at you while it happened, too.

                You look upward and see the underside of Carly’s chin, pointed forward in confidence as she strides powerfully toward wherever it is she’s taking you.

                You finally come to a stop.  You blink the high altitude and wind tears from your eyes and lift your head up from the firm pillow of your sister’s pointer finger, curled solidly around your chest and shoulders.  You’re in your house’s front sitting room, one of the larger rooms in your house.  It’s like a great cavern to you now, stretching on for miles and miles.  You are jolted slightly as Carly takes a seat on the couch.  Moving her arm to rest on her bare knee, she reaches into her pocket with the other hand and using two fingers, retrieves a single Cheerio.

                “You didn’t eat any breakfast, little bro, and if you don’t soon you’re not going to be able to learn as well,” she says, and her fingers extend forward, in front of the first holding you.  To allow your arms out, the clamped flesh tube with you inside unfolds the pointer finger, freeing your arms.  You hold out your hands and Carly slowly places the Cheerio into your outstretched hands.  You hungrily pull it in and begin devouring it, with Carly’s fascinated face glowing all the while.  You manage to eat it in a matter of big bites.  It’s not a lot, but it’s something.

                “You’re a good little eater when you want to be, Jack.  If you had eaten when I asked you to before, maybe you could have had some more,” she says plainly, making it clear that you will get nothing else, at least not for a while.  Your stomach gurgles, demanding more, but you will it to cease.

                “Now…” she says, turning at a 90 degree angle to pull her entire body onto the couch.  You turn your shoulder and watch as her toned bare legs stretch out across the couch, still horribly unwashed from her yard work, one foot having a sock, the other putrid flesh slab not having one: this is of course the one you submitted your body and devotion to no more than an hour ago.  Her tanned legs, so smooth and thin along her ankles but becoming abruptly rotund at her taut runner’s calves, are like rolling hills of raw, muscular flesh.  You shiver slightly at this sight and turn your neck back around to face Carly, who is now sporting a half-condescending grin at the look on your face.

                “Were you looking down at my feet just now, little bro?”

                “Umm… not really…”

                She nods downward in disbelief.  “I’m not blind, you know.  I can tell what you’re doing.  Were you looking at my feet?”

                “Yeah, kind of…”

                “Why?”

                “I don’t know…”

                She chuckles, leaning her back against a pillow but keeping you at eye level still in her fist.  “You don’t have to admit it, little bro.  I know you won’t.   But I just know you’re a little scared of your big sissy’s feet now.”

                You shake your head no.

                “Not even a little bit?”

                You shake no again.  She shrugs.

                “Whatever you say.  I know you are.  But don’t feel too bad.  We won’t get back to THEM until LATER,” she says with a cruel smile.   You turn your neck around to see her feet all the way down there again.  She wiggles her toes in a successive ripple, cracking them at the joints, putting on a show for you.  You shiver again and turn back.

                “I can feel your little body shaking like the scared, stupid baby you are, Jack.  You know you’re scared of my feet.  I know you’re scared of what they can do to you.  Just relax for now.  You’ll get some more personal time with them.”

                “Personal time.”  It’ll be like visiting two old friends.  Two old friends capable of humiliating you into a subhuman form within a matter of minutes.  You feel sick already.

                “NOW, however…” says your sister cheerfully.  “…now, you’ve got some other work to do.”

                “What?”

                “Well, I was thinking about you, and ALL the things you’ve done to me.  You’ve done a lot to me before.  You’ve tried to make me feel like crap.  Do you remember some of that stuff, little bro?” she says, pretending to sound on the verge of tears.

                “I… I… well…”

                “Yes you do.  Don’t try to lie to me.  Like… our camping trip,” she says, instantly smiling but at the same time looking serious.  “Do you remember that?”

                You do.  Well.  The memories flood your mind.

 

                It’s a year ago, you a sophomore in high school and your thirteen year old little sis, only in the 7th grade.  You’ve just pulled into some reserve area of camping grounds in the family’s van, where your outdoorsy dad hopes to show his family a little about his childhood with their first family camping trip.  It’s been four solid hours of you and your little sister arguing and annoying one another the whole way, much to the chagrin of your parents.

                “Why can’t you two just be quiet and treat each other with some respect?” groans your mom.  “We’re here to relax, on vacation!”

                “It’s not a vacation for me as long as I have to stare at his ugly FACE all weekend!” whines Carly, jabbing a pointer finger into your face, which you quickly swat away.

                “Dad, can we leave her out here in a ditch somewhere?  Please?  No one would have to know.”

                “Son, just cool it,” says your dad, not amused by your somewhat insensitive joke.

                Half an hour later, the tents are set up and your dad is collecting firewood for cooking the evening’s dinner.  You and your sister are free to roam around and do whatever.  You take this opportunity to walk off alone, down some leaf-covered hills to the creekside.

                You seat yourself on a large rock, overlooking a several foot drop into a shallow mud slab followed by the algid current of the creek running over mossy pebbles.  At least with this much open space, your irritating little sister has miles to run around in and annoy some woodland animals instead of you for once.  Maybe she’ll choose to annoy a grizzly, you think rather slyly.

Sticking your iPod buds into your ears, you sit and take in the scene.  Despite the fact that you can’t hear much through your music, you hear a crinkling sound near the creek.  You lean forward precariously on the rock, overlooking past the muddy drop and over at the flowing creek, spying a frog hopping over some leaves.

                Your peace is shattered, however, with the sudden concussive force of a large barefoot slamming you square in the back.  Normally, you could have stayed up easily, but as you’re crouching forward with nothing to grab onto except empty space, you go right over the five foot drop and into the mud below, your face buried in sludge.  It’s not a long drop, but you fall at just the correct angle to have the wind knocked from you completely, and you gasp for air, taking in a mouthful of mud.  This just clogs your throat, causing you to hack and spew, spitting out into the mud and taking slower breaths.

                As you try to regain a regular breathing style from the awkward blow you took from the mud slab, now having coated your entire front side, you lift your face completely from the mud and turn to the side like a swimmer taking a quick breather.  As you do, your face is instantly met with brown, leaf-speckled, mud-caked bare foot of Carly, firmly pressing into your nose and mouth.  Her soft, creamy sole bears down against your lips hard, shoveling more mud from off her foul heel and into your mouth, in a gesture practically like a forced kiss of her dingy instep as you struggle for fresh breath under those controlling peds.  You hack and spew, turning your head a little while trying to breathe normally again, but the persistent foot follows you, the taut feeling of her sole flexing in and out across your muddy face.

                “C-CARLY!” you roar, swatting her foot away.  She steps back, laughing so hard she has to double over and clutch her stomach with both arms.  “CARLY!  Damn it, what are you DOING?” you yell, clambering to your feet and spitting out a mud wad delivered specially by your sister’s pervasive foot.

                “Oh my… G…” she says, descending into uncontrollable laughter again.  “So… perfect… God, you look stupid… your face… your FA…” she starts to say, but she can’t finish.  You take a quick stride to the creekside and look into the imperfect reflection.  Across your cheeks and lips, you can see, quite plainly an almost perfect mud print of Carly’s filthy foot: her toes, heel, and ball showing up at the correct, caked intervals.  Painted right on your face, like a mark of shame, a sign of your utter defeat in her cruel prank.

                “THAT’S it!” you yell, and you dash forward, grabbing your sister around the waist.  For her age, she may be a little stronger and a little taller than most girls, but you also happen to be pretty strong, and she’s no match as you lift her up in the air, still in a painful bear hug, and you start walking along the creek.

                “What are you DOING, you stupid jerk?  It was a JOKE.  A little, tiny joke!  What are you doing?  Put me down!” she cries, trying to struggle loose.  As you have her arms pinned to her sides, she can’t do anything to swat at you.  With her legs, though, she curls them around you, kicking her muddy heels at your behind with no effect.  You’re pissed off right now, and there’s nothing she can do to stop you from getting her back.  As you walk, the creek begins to go lower as a slick, muddy drop forms, this one further than the one she pushed you off of.  Reaching a spot where the creek gets deeper and less rockier, you find a slick mud slope leading down the small incline.  It’s not a straight drop, but there’s no way to just climb down the slick.  It’s easily fifteen feet long.  You stop in front of it.

                “You wanna play rough, huh?” you say.

                “Put me DOWN, you moron!” she says.

                “Play rough, then,” you say with a grimace, loosening your power grip on her back.  She staggers back and instantly trips over.  She manages to go into a crouching position to stop herself from falling straight onto her back, but a moment later she’s on her ass, starting to slide down the slope.  Her hands shoot out and grab onto a damp tree root, although it doesn’t look like it will do much to hold her.  She doesn’t have a good enough grip.

                “JACK!” she yells up at you.  “You stupid, stupid jerk!  Stop it!  Help me!”

                “Go take a bath,” you say sarcastically.  “The water looks just fine.”

                “I HATE the creek water!  I’m afraid of it!  What’s in there?” she says, sounding more and more nervous.

                “Oh, shut up and give me a break.  It’s water.  It’s clean.  Be happy I didn’t pick a spot with mud.”

                “I’m your little sister!  You can’t just PICK on me like this!”

                “Oh, no?” you say, crossing your arms.  “Pleasant journeys.”

                As you say this, your sister goes sliding down the slick with a loud and melodramatic scream.  She lands in the sandy bottom of the creek, which only comes up to her stomach when standing.  She manages to climb back up to the shore, but she’s crying.  It couldn’t have been pleasant, of course, but it’s really just to make sure she gets the final word in this matter with your parents.

                And get it she does; the rest of your weekend is unpleasant, to say the least.

                You can almost still taste that bitter mud footprint pressed unwillingly into your mouth.

 

                You flash back into reality, your naked body held gently by the cool flesh of your now-gigantic little sister.

                “Earth to little brother.  I said, do you REMEMBER the CAMPING trip?” she says, slowly pronouncing each syllable.  You look fearfully at her.

                You nod.  No getting out of it now.  You remember it and so does she.

                “Good.  So this is how your first new lesson is going to go…” says Carly, lowering her hand to her stomach.  She opens it, and you fall onto the white t-shirt, still somewhat damp with cold sweat drying in to the fabric.  You stand up and she looks down at you, standing directly in the middle of her abs.

                “You forced me…” she says with a little more drama, “… when you KNEW I was scared, to try to hang on to something… for my life…”

                She seriously thinks her life was endangered?

                “… to avoid something you ALSO knew I was afraid of.  Didn’t you?”

                “Yea..”

                “DIDN’T YOU?”

                “YES!”

                She recollects herself after the quick outburst.  “I thought so.  So here’s a little lesson for you about putting yourself in the place of the people you try to hurt.  Are you ready?  Nod yes.”

                You obey.

                “Good.  Now, get under my shirt.”

                “W-What?”

                “That’s right.  Walk your little self back there, and climb underneath my shirt, right there.”

                Wordlessly, you do so, walking back toward Carly’s waist along the plushy ground of her fabric-coated stomach until you reach the end of the shirt, which is still soaked.  Lifting it up, you climb underneath the heavy layer of fabric and into the claustrophobic area under your little sister’s shirt, so humid and smelly that you begin to sweat almost immediately in the stove-like heat.

                Before you lies a plain of golden-brown flesh, tanned perfectly, curving down in little dunes where Carly’s near-six pack averages out in the middle.  You are taken aback for a moment at how cut your little sister apparently is on her midsection.  With walking now no longer an option, you drop to your hands and knees, and wait.  Underneath your limbs, pressed into Carly’s stomach, you can feel the supple, tan ground rising and falling slowly as Carly calmly inhales and exhales, the skin pushing up into your limbs as she breathes in.  Pressing your hands in deeper in order to stay balanced, you press into a very thin layer of flesh and almost immediately feel the terrifyingly rock-solid muscle below.

                “Are you in there okay now, little bro?  Can you hear me?”

                “Yes!” you yell out.

                “Good.  Now, just crawl forward until you get to my belly button, then stop.”

                You obey immediately, gliding your limbs across the tough, cut stomach of your little sis.  Your arms brush up against extremely short little hairs, normally the kind that everyone has, except at this size you can actually feel them at a touch.  You only have to move your limbs forward a couple times to reach her belly button, its outer circumference larger than your head.  Now, closer to her abs, you can really feel the muscle without even having to press in on the skin, just pulsating below your shins and forearms.

                “Okay, I feel you there.  Good job, little bro.  Now.  Get your hands into it.”

                “WHAT?” you yell, not so much out of offense but just so she can hear you through the thick fabric of her shirt.

                “Stick you little hands into my belly button, and grab on.  And then don’t let go, whatever you do…” she says playfully, and from all around you feel a sudden shift in the toned, tanned ground.  She herself is moving, it’s not just a breath.

                “Seriously.  Stick your hands in and grab on,” she adds quickly, and suddenly Carly is going into a vertical position, with you still waiting helplessly on her robust abdominals.  With no time to spare, you reach in and grab on to the wrinkled, somewhat flimsy interior of your sister’s belly button.  You feel the strain begin to hit your arms as your sister goes perfectly vertical standing up.  About ten seconds pass.  Your heart rate begins to rise as you hold yourself up by the little folds of naval skin inside Carly’s button.

                Cold air suddenly hits you, ending the humid sweatbox environment underneath your sister’s shirt, as Carly plucks the ends of her shirt up and hitches them up just below her chest, so she can see you.  You look straight up, your eyes tracing along the bountiful curves of Carly’s four pack, leading up through the ripples of fading shirt fabric, and up to Carly’s waiting, insistent face.  She has a simple smile on her lips.

                “Hang on there, little bro…” she warns.  “I don’t think it will feel good if you let go.”

                Against your better judgment, your eyes shift to your side, downward.  Below you, you see your mountainous sister’s mile-long legs stretching down for an eternity, her oppressive bare feet seemingly in the far off distance.  Which is exactly where the ground happens to be.  Distant.

                It feels like you’re hanging from the roof of a third story office building.

                You swing your body toward the smooth stomach flesh for support, burrowing yourself against it and feeling the warm, hard muscle again underneath.  Your arms begin to protest ever so slightly.  Just hang on, you tell yourself.  Just keep it up.  It’s a lesson.   Just a lesson.  She won’t let you die.

                Correction: she won’t want you to die.  Does she know?  Can she perceive the fact that you can and will die if you can’t hang on any longer and plummet to the ground?  It’s a three story drop, and under normal circumstances it would present a high mortality rate, but the fact of the matter is your body is so hammered right now, it wouldn’t take a whole lot to push it over the edge.  This fact sends a chill through you, and you almost lose your grip.  It occurs to you that Carly is trying to make you relive forcing her to slide down the little mud slick.  You didn’t help her.  Why should she help you?  You look to your right and left.  Carly’s hands are resting calmly at her side, making no attempt to move toward you.

                “C-C-Carly…” you gasp through baited breath, trying to conserve your energy to hang on.

                “What’s up?” says your sister happily, grinning ear to ear.

                “T-This can’t… w-work.  If I fall, it’ll k-k-kill me…” you muffle, clenching your teeth, using the last of your regular strength preserves to hang on.

                “What, are you telling me that big, strong body of yours can’t hang on anymore to big sissy’s belly?”

                “No!” you yell.

                She shakes her head no.  “Yeah, right.  Look.  I know you’re getting tired.  I know you’re afraid you’re going to fall.  But that’s the point.  That’s why we’re here, little bro…”

                “But… y-you don’t get it!  I CAN’T fall!” you roar out, starting to feel the burn of hanging on longer than your body wants.

                “What are you talking about?  Of course you can!” says Carly.  “It’s just from my belly to the ground.  What is that, little less than three feet?  You’re just being a stupid baby again.”

                A chill runs through you.  She doesn’t believe you.  She really doesn’t believe you.

                “CARLY!”

                “I’d suggest you stop trying to chat with me, little bro, so you can concentrate on hanging on tighter.”

                “Arrgggghhhh…” you grunt in agony, your muscles going numb, your fingers turning pale white from the strain.

                “THERE you go, little bro.  Keep it up.  Get those muscles working.  And FEEL what it’s like to do this, to dangle up there, scared of the fall underneath you.  Feel it.  Are you feeling it?” she says, almost accusingly.

                “UNNNGGGHHHH!”

                “I’ll take that as a yes, I think,” she answers coolly.

                It’s over.  You can’t take it anymore.  You’re about to fall.  And Carly is going to let you do it, not knowing you’re going to die when you hit the carpet at her feet.  You made it through the last challenge facing you, only to face certain doom on the very first lesson of Carly’s new plan for you.  Why?  Why?  Why did it have to come all the way here, only to end?

                Your fingers release.  Your sister’s stomach falls away, and you close your eyes.  Embracing your fate.  However, you don’t fall for more than a quarter of a second before you land in the fleshy cupped palm of Carly’s right hand, which she threw out just in the nick of time.  She curls her fingers around you like a cage, raising her hand up to look at you.  You collapse in exhaustion and fear into her palm, looking weakly over at her beaming face as your heart goes into overdrive speed.

                “Good.  That was lesson one.”

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