Scott blearily opened his eyes on his makeshift couch bed the next morning, sunlight spilling in through the living room window and flooding the air with false hope for the shrunken housebound convict.

                After his altercation with his brother last night had left him feeling more alone than ever within the four walls of this domestic prison, sleep had not come easily, and once it did, it was tormented at best.  The whole ordeal had left him feeling bitter and angry, not at Kyle, but at his own prospects for existence in this house in the near future.  Without any sort of protection from his younger brother, there was nothing standing between him and enough ruinous misery to warrant decades on a psychologist’s couch.  What was the use even hoping to catch a break?  He could hardly make himself care about the encounter he knew was inevitably on her way.

                With his back pressed up against the soft fabric of the couch cushion, Scott found himself suddenly vibrating violently against the plush surface.  Blinking wildly, he tried to right himself with his arms, only to find himself actually bouncing in rhythm with the violent rocking of the cushion.  Finally, getting ahold of his bearings, Scott realized the source of the excessive motion.

                Maggie’s foot, clad in a baby blue polka-dotted sock, was pressed into the cushion with her toes just a few inches away from his face, and she was putting her full effort into pumping her leg up and down on the chair so as to rock her brother from his rest as roughly as possible.

                “Maggie, what the hell?” Scott grumbled, trying to push himself into the chair back at the sight of his sister grinning down at him.  After a moment, Scott also realized his sister, with her short blonde hair in a small ponytail, was clothed only in a T-shirt and short shorts that rode so far up her shapely runner’s thighs, with her leg raised high enough to press on the cushion, that he could easily see her panties within.  He quickly averted his eyes, but the embarrassing damage was already done.

                “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey, Scott,” she smarmed, increasing the frequency with which she was pressing down into the cushion with her foot.  “I’m your new alarm clock.”

                “I’m trying to sleep.  Go away.”

                “Not anymore, you’re not.”

                “What does that mean?”

                “I want you to get up now, and Mom says you have to listen to me and Kyle unless we’re being unreasonable.  And so did the judge.”

                Great.  Maggie had missed the opportunity for possible subtlety with her newfound rights like a champ.  Next to her, Kyle’s display of rage the previous night was an unfathomable gesture of charity.

                “You have to be kidding me.  That just means things like extra chores or whatever.  Leave me alone.”

                “C’mon, get up, or I’ll make you,” Maggie threatened, ceasing the pounding of her socked foot against the cushion.  Instead, she inched her toes forward until the cottony sole was arched menacingly over Scott’s face.  “Mom said I couldn’t play with you yesterday, so now we’re making up the time.”

                “It’s too early for this shit, Maggie,” Scott groaned, covering his head for protection as best as he could just as the thick, fuzzy weight of the titanic sixteen-year-old’s toes curled over his shoulders.  He could already sense that familiar persistence in his sister that was impossible to dent, but he was going to be damned if he caved to her childish whims so easily on only his second day back home.

                “Like that, Scott?” Maggie giggled, her cotton-clad toes worming intrusively across Scott’s torso and face.  “You should take a nice big whiff and get used to it.”

                “God, get the hell off!” Scott grumbled, banging his fists against the dancing toes as they bopped continually over his head, the thick blue canopy of sock fabric all but smothering him as they squeezed around his face.  He gasped, going in for another round of useless punches against his sister’s aggressive toes, but found his lungs filling up with the stale starch of lint and the unmistakable musk of Maggie’s noisome and swollen feet from the daily soccer practices.

                As Scott knew from personal experience, his sister had never been very good at washing her feet very thoroughly after a practice, and it seemed her sanitary skills had not improved significantly during his time away at college.

                And evidently, she hadn’t bothered to wash up after returning from last night’s party, either.

                He held his breath, trying to focus his energy on beating away the monstrous sock that was trying to consume him under its weight, but was unable to get the smack of fleshy grit from his nose, and coughed heavily, giving Maggie’s toes a momentary advantage.

                “Goooood,” Maggie drawled triumphantly, shifting her foot so that now the entire thing was being used to pin Scott down deeper into the couch cushion, her heel resting heavily on his thighs.  “Breathe it in all the way.  You missed it, didn’t you?”

                “Screw… you!” Scott yelped, unable to handle the sudden influx of added weight from his sister’s foot, and was barely able to fend off her big toe from curling down against his head as he sunk lower and lower into the fabric of his bed.

                “Of course you did, silly.  You’re like a little puppy dog around here now, and all puppy dogs like to smell the clothes of their…” she corrected, biting her lip almost suggestively before adding, “…owners.”

                “You don’t own shit, you stupid… stupid…” Scott grunted before deciding now to finish that sentence was in his best interests.  “Will you just take your stupid sock away from my face already?”

                “I will if you take it off for me,” Maggie answered calmly, fighting back a snicker.

                “What?”

                “Take off the sock for me, and I’ll get it off your face.”

                Scowling at her harder than he perhaps ever had in his life, Scott stopped punching his sister’s sock-coated toes, which finally relented in their assault on his body and simply hovered a few inches above his chest, waiting.  With a grimace as bitter as he could muster, Scott sat up and crawled a few inches across the cushion toward his sister’s ankle and dug his hands under the cottony band of the fuzzy footwear.

                Maggie kept her foot patiently held in midair just high enough for Scott to work without interruption.  With a tug, he managed to pull the sock down and around the rounded rim of her thick heel and continued.  As he passed into the deeper curved valley of her wrinkled sole, his fists pressed against the warm expanse of skin under the fabric for support, Maggie’s foot suddenly began twitching back and forth.

                “You tickle,” she snickered playfully.  “Stop it.”

                Grumbling, Scot continued, making sure not to run his knuckles along the soft ridges of his sister’s creased sole.  The sock began to tug easier, and he sped up, rolling up the spotted fabric as he went and dragging it under the ball of her foot until he had reached her toes.

                As he did a final pull to finish the job, Maggie’s toes suddenly curled to grip the sock firmly, and Scott found himself unable to budge it another inch.  He yanked harder, digging his feet and knees into the pliable surface of the couch cushion with all the strength he could muster, but it was no use.  It was like trying to drag a blue polka dot pickup truck with his bare hands.  She wasn’t going to release it.

                Before Scott could shoot her a dirty look, though, the five squat little troublemakers on the end of Maggie’s cruel foot suddenly relented, allowing the sock to bounce freely into Scott’s hands.  Because of all the tension from his pulling, the impact of it almost toppled Scott over when she finally let go, releasing like a baby blue springboard into his chest.

                The billowy sock sat heavily in his grip, deflating against his body like a sleeping bag fitted for sasquatch, before he threw it down to the side with disgust.  With the difficulty in getting it off her immense toes, the sock had been turned completely inside out, revealing the innermost fibers ravaged by multiple machine washes and, more dangerously, constant contact with Maggie’s repulsive foot skin.

                Crossing his arms in contempt, Scott did his best to ignore the gathering malodor cloud of dried skin and grime engrained between each colored fiber of the sock that was steadily inflating into an invisible smog of indescribable foulness.

                “Good puppy,” Maggie congratulated, clapping her hands together happily as she finally brought her heel down to rest on the cushion again.  “That feels a lot better.  Now you better take another deep breath…”

                “What?” Scott yelped as his sister’s newly freed bare foot abruptly tackled him back down flat onto the surface of the couch, pinning him down with full force as her sole spread itself comfortably across his body.

                This time, there was no fuzzy sock to act as a buffer between the puny twelve-inch Scott and his sister’s monstrous foot.  Maggie’s sole, radiating heat, bounced merrily on his stomach, scrunching every few seconds and bunching up the folds of his shirt in the deep, velvety wrinkles of her skin.  The ball of her foot planted itself on his chest, putting him in an instantly victorious hold like the world’s most rounded wrestler.

                Her toes splayed themselves prettily across Scott’s shoulders and chest, swatting at him continually before aligning her stubby big toe just above his face, as though threatening him with it.

                “Maggie!” Scott panted, his chest already sore from the feeling of his sister’s wide and heavy sole heaving up and down against it.  “I took your damn sock off!”

                “Yeah, so?  Do you want a trophy or something?”

                “You said you’d stop stepping on me if I did!” Scott protested, trying to move his head to the side.  Each time he did, though, Maggie’s big toe just shifted with him, ensuring his face was always under the shadow of her rounded digit.

                “Ohhhh, no, no, no… wow, you’re a bad listener!  And you’re supposed to be smart enough to be in college somehow,” Maggie tsked, waggling her finger as she continued writhing her toes across her pathetic brother, savoring the feeling of his feeble neck rubbing underneath the soft bridge of each mini marshmallow toe.  “I said I’d take my sock off of you, and I think I did that, didn’t I?”

                Mad enough to roar himself hoarse, Scott opened his mouth and wheezed just in time to watch a triumphant smile spread across Maggie’s lips as her big toe finally made good on its implied promise and descended onto his face, instantly plugging his nose and mouth with her filthy, peachy extremity, which to Scott was the size of a partially deflated basketball.

                “Yep, breathe it in.  Hard,” Maggie encouraged, bobbing her head and letting her blonde locks bounce in time.  “Get to know your new best friend better.”

                “Ggggrrrrtttt!” Scott sputtered incoherently with all his might.  Most of the sound was instantly absorbed directly from his lips and into the spiraled print of his sister’s gleefully applied toe.  However, his rage was great enough that he made himself heard.

                “If you insist,” Maggie said with a shrug, choosing to interpret the muffled peep as a call for an end.  She finally released the leaden weight of her foot on Scott’s body but took her own sweet time to do it, spending several laborious seconds unpeeling her toes from her brother’s defeated torso.  “I just hope you’re learning your lesson.”

                “Lesson?  What are you talking about?”

                “Don’t sound so stupid, little brother,” Maggie groaned, crossing her arms sternly.  “You didn’t go to jail after what you did to that poor lady and her baby.  But I’m gonna make sure you remember what you did.  You’re not getting out of it that easy.”

                “Wanna bet?” the finally freed Scott growled, far too pissed off to think clearly about what he was saying, as he stretched his achingly numbed arms and legs to regain feeling in them.

                “Yep!” Maggie chortled, reaching down and wrapping her fingers around her foot-tall brother’s arm. 

                Despite being at his maximum size, his younger sister’s fist encompassed most of his arm, and as she began to squeeze, Scott could feel the raw muscular power she had over him, lurking in each feminine fingertip, with the combined strength to rend his arm from the shoulder like a wishbone.

                “Maggie, let go of my arm.”

                “I want you to get up and follow me.  And I’m being reasonable.  Are you really not going to do it?”

                “Reasonable?  You just stomped all over my goddamned face!” Scott blurted.  “You’re going to leave me alone now.  And I’m going to go get this whole thing straight with mom.”

                “So, you admit it.  I’m telling you to do something, and you’re not doing it?”

                “Get… off… me!” Scott hissed through gritted teeth, knowing it was useless, as he poked needlessly at his sister’s firm fingers, which held unwaveringly like iron around his arm.

                “Awesome.  I’ve been waiting to do this for so long,” Maggie purred, her eyes glowing with ecstasy.