You’ve had dreams like this. You’re sure of it. Hell, if you’re being honest with your twisted subconscious, you could probably say you had visions like this even before you shrunk and took your rightful place as Carly’s possession. It’s ethereal, almost mythic in its truthfulness to your being.

            And you wouldn’t want to be anything else in the universe than right here, right now.

            You’re swimming, having been gently released from the fleshy vice of Carly’s toes. Just a gentle forward dog paddle, befitting of your place as a pet to this holy being that surrounds you on all sides. Before you in the vast expanse of the gleaming bathtub is your sister’s bare body, half of it resting idly beneath the surface of the deep water, the other half rising above, a tangible measure of your progress across the pond.

            This bath with Carly is an ecosystem unto itself. Right now, you’re still between the broad valley formed by her legs on either side. A lagoon of those muscular calves and sculpted thighs. The closer you swim to her body, the nearer below the dark surface you can just make out her cleanly shaven womanhood, rippling under the water as she stirs the surface with a finger on the opposite end. You can practically feel its warmth radiating out from under the water, pricking up the hair on your arms as you push forward.

            There will be a day for that. When Carly lets you know. And not before.

            You pass delicately into the thinned space between your sister’s immense legs. She’s parted them just wide enough for you to make landing on her hips. And you do, softly sputtering as you crawl up the damp, stiff field of your sister’s stomach. Even as her torso ascends and descends in time with her breath, you can feel the rigid reams of muscle that make up her packed abdomen. The sinewy memory of every crunch and every plank, programmed into a belly so strong that it could destroy you if it twisted and turned in just the right ways. A soft, lyrical gurgle emanates from inside your sister’s flat tummy.

            “C’mon,” she whispers. Her finger curls, beckoning you forward. “I didn’t say take a break, did I?”

            “Nope.”

            “You’ll get a rest when you get up here to say thank you.”

            And so you crawl. The trek gets trickier as a slight angle imparts into the curvature of Carly’s torso, her entire body still slicked with steam and water. It sweats against your fingertips as you press each of your palms into the forgiving terrain of your sister’s flesh. Every shift of your knees and hands grants you new gifts of warmth and pulse from the living environment that is Carly’s body, exposed to you in full and all at once for the first time.

            You arrive at her breasts. They wouldn’t be much taller than you if you were standing before this altar of flesh, but you can’t stand, lest you slide back into the water, which you assume is partially by design on Carly’s part. Instead you remain prostrated before them, watching the dappled skin of each nipple take surer form in her anticipation.

            “C’mon,” she says. “Say thank-you.”

            You nod, placing tentative hands on the inner walls that form the jiggly valley of Carly’s boobs. By propping your knees and forearms into the doughy masses, you manage to get just enough leverage to clamber up the middle of those twin hills. Just when it seems like you won’t quite achieve an angle high enough to climb atop, Carly’s hands come together, joining her elbows, and her breasts are mushed together as well. You’re popped like a loose pebble upon her left breast, instinctively throwing your hand over her nipple to keep yourself steady.

            She giggles, her lukewarm breath cutting through the fog of rising steam from the bath. The skin of this holy teat hardens beneath your fingers. Tiny, delicate goose bumps reacting chemically to your touch. Encouraged, you give it a squeeze as you carefully reposition yourself to crouch above the peak of her breast. Only a squeeze at first, then a ripple of your digits, digging your thumb in and massaging from one end of your knuckles to the other, balling the firm hillock of flesh into your palm. Your member, still stiff from your rubbing-over between her toes beyond, dangles low enough to brush the prominent mound of her nipple. Both your rod and your goddess’s areola quiver at this first contact.

            “Trying to tickle me, little bro?” she coos.

            “That was an accident,” you admit coolly. You lower yourself yet further, circling both legs around the center of the rotund, comparatively pale hill.

            “Well, that counts as a hello. But I’m still waiting on a thank-you.”

            You nod, dipping your chin down above her rosy nipple. Your lips meet the studded surface and kiss it, pleased with the moisture of the bath combined with its heat making for a peck as soft and inviting as Carly’s lips usually are while enveloping your whole body. Your tongue darts out against her skin, essentially without prompting.

            “There we go,” Carly says. Her jaw droops open, savoring your tasting.

            “Here we go,” you repeat back in the same tone. You dip again, this time opening your jaws and taking in as much of her nipple as you can. It doesn’t take much of it to completely fill your mouth, the plush bead of her luscious skin inflating against your cheeks as it perks up yet higher. Your tongue is in overdrive, drawing circles around it and testing its bulbous heft against the back of your teeth. What portion of her nipple you can’t take into your mouth, you busily tend to with your fingertips, teasing and tracing lines just around the base of it.

            Her heartbeat pounds from below.

            A singsong moan dribbles out of Carly’s mouth just beyond. She huffs quietly, feeling the pattern. You smile, sinking your teeth into the shallow give of her skin and nibbling. Her goose bumps spread lower, across the entire dune of her breast, giving you better grounding upon her. Again spurred onward, you attempt some new tricks. Then again, everything now is new. She’s never put you this close before.

            You dig your teeth into the base of Carly’s nipple, then work your way up, planting your incisors softly into the fleshy knoll at various points until you reach the tip. When you do, you dig your tongue against the cusp, circling and prodding, savoring the sensation of it sinking into the terrain.

            Carly gasps at the entrance of your tongue into her nipple. Her lyrical surprise quickly drops an octave into a blissful moan. The entire length of her body shifts in the bath, sinking deeper into the water, until the water runs up her torso, but your place on the island of her breast keeps you from being submerged.

            You’re on your knees now, your hands cupped around her nipple and filling your mouth again, intercutting with an aggressive chomp from your teeth or a flutter of your tongue, just to keep her guessing. Almost every time seems to surprise her. Gradually her gasps come out only as low slurred wails. Her head is lolled back against the curved rim of the tub, her dishwater hair unfurled in golden streams and plastered on the perspiring porcelain.

            A shadow falls. Her hand is above you, her fingers trembling with indecision at what to do with your worshipful body. Eventually she plants the grooved pad of her pointer finger against your shoulder blades, massaging from side to side and then up and down along your spine. It’s as though she’s locating every minute link of your bone structure, tickling it through your skin as she caresses you down to the small of your back. You tingle with amusement as your sister’s enormous fingertip pats at your butt, and close your eyes.

            At last that long digit of hurls curls around you, taking a smooth trip along your form, each segment of her finger melding by steam into your taut limbs and clenched stomach. Your every muscle is pointed and dedicated to pleasuring the summit of her breast. She enjoys you with slow abandon, reminding herself of your tiny and precious shape. Then her finger winds down between your legs, hooked underneath your bowing body, and begins to rub your hardened member up against your hip.

            A rush of mounting euphoria through your body, like magical pins and needles building on one another as she strokes your cock from beneath, her fingers curling into your prostrated body. The equivalent of television static in your every extremity. You manage to keep your composure, though, primping her areola between your thumbs and approximating as close as possible to deep-throating with your god-sister’s gigantic nipple.

            Humping Carly’s expertly twitching finger into your crotch, you briefly open your eyes again. Her other hand is stretched beyond your field of view, out of sight of her glorified face leaned back against the tub with cheeks flushed and lips cracked open like one of those beautiful frescoes from an exotic palace. Only this painting is real, and you are her only chosen audience. From the rhythm of her body below you, humming along and thrusting, you have a pretty good idea of what her other hand is doing.

            The end is approaching fast, as it so often does, but its geometry is different than anything you’ve yet experienced. The complex dance of this whole affair is exciting, confusing, and wonderfully new in ways you haven’t truly experienced since that day five years before when you were first squeezed naked into the wrinkled sole of your teenage owner. The times after were always special, of course, always glorious and justified in their own ways, but you truly can’t predict from second-to-second how you’re going to feel now. It’s all absolutely fresh and would be frightening if not for the perfect guardianship you feel guiding your every inch on all sides.

            You’re hunched over Carly’s golden breast to a symphony of her moans, sucking and gnawing her nipple, feeling the tender ground quake as she masturbates, while her finger delivers the most gratified reach-around in shrunken human history, cupping all your delicates against the curl of her warm and self-satisfied skin.

            For a curious instant, at the eye of the textured storm, your mind leaps back to days barely remembered. Maybe a week before you were reduced to this size. You, sitting in the office of a high school guidance counselor for a career options interview. The woman behind the desk asking where you saw yourself in five years after finishing high school. Without an exact answer, you only stared back at her, imagining some drivel about “going to college,” “studying computer technology,” and “having your own life.”

            What a cosmic joke that was.

            You’re not quite sure if both you and your sister reach climax at the same instant. It all just melts together. If anything, Carly probably brings you to orgasm first, as you were already on some kind of verge earlier after the toying between her toes and the various kisses and dangles you received prior to this heavenly bath. Still, even as you spasm against her finger, you make no effort to slow in your own pursuit of her end. This is still your gratitude you’re here to show, after all. Your mouth and hands work with newfound ferocity, biting and clenching at the duct of the titaness’s supple skin.

            Meanwhile, Carly’s climax is an eruption. Her shrill cry of joy bursts and flowers in the steamy air above the bath, her entire body jutting into the water out of necessity. You’re nearly thrown from the isle of her breast, if not for her palm residing right behind you. She catches you just as easily as she always has, collecting your thoroughly sated body into her loving fingers.

            “Now that’s how you say thank-you,” Carly sighs raggedly, still catching her breath, her forearm tensed from the luxurious effort of massaging herself to completion.

            You lean your cheek down against your sibling’s enormous thumbpad. The rumble of her racing pulse thumps from within.

            You couldn’t agree more.