Brooke's plan was simple and elegant. She would prepare lunch and serve Kimberly's food and Andy's food on the same plate. Brooke would talk while they ate and distract Kimberly. When Kimberly wasn't looking, he would jump off the table and hide. Then Brooke would ask where her dad was. Kimberly would come to the horrifying conclusion that she had eaten Andy on her own.

It was a good plan, but Andy had a better one. Except the mark for his prank wasn't Kimberly. It was Brooke.

His daughter carried him downstairs and out into the backyard. He had to crouch low to keep from being blown off her palm. Brooke's normal walking pace was close to 100 miles per hour to him. She wasn't as haphazard as Alice at carrying him, but she wasn't as smooth or as practiced as Kimberly.

She slowed down to remark, "You're so light, Daddy. I barely feel you."

"That's because I weigh 1/16th of an ounce, Brooke," he replied to her looming, freckled face. "The shrinking specialist said you could stick me in an envelope and send me anywhere in the country for the price of a postage stamp."

"Wow."

Outside, Kimberly was cleaning the swimming pool, one of Andy's responsibilities that had to be split between the two teenagers.

"Hey, Kim!"

Kimberly looked up. "Hey, Brooke. Do you have Mr. Speed with you?" she asked, squinting. She couldn't actually see him from across the yard, only Brooke's hand hovering at waist height and parallel with the ground.

"Yeah. We're really hungry. Do you want lunch?"

"It's kinda early for lunch. What are you making?"

"Chicken fajita tacos." She winked at Andy.

"I'll have some," Kimberly said. She resumed her chores, and Brooke took Andy into the kitchen. She set him next to the dish strainer and started gathering what she needed to make chicken fajitas.

Andy was sure he'd never seen Brooke make anything more complicated than popcorn. "Do you know what you're doing, Brooke?"

"Yeah. I've watched Mom cook chicken hundreds of times."

Andy's heart plunged to his stomach. Alecia. She would have known the correct response to this overt sexual phase Brooke seemed to be going through. Kimberly had proven herself invaluable to him by providing insight into what Brooke was going through, but would that translate into being a mother-type figure herself? It was the one doubt left in his mind about this relationship. He hoped he wasn't hurting Brooke by getting serious with her best friend. Because, in the end, his only child's happiness was more important than his own.

He saw Kimberly walking through the sliding glass door. "Brooke, I need to use the restroom," he announced.

"Ew. Get Kim to help you."

"Help do what?" Kimberly said, joining them in the kitchen. Andy marveled at her bigness, her quickness. Standing about 200 feet tall (proportionally speaking), both girls were overwhelming.

"My dad needs to go poopy in the potty," Brooke cooed, like she would to a baby.

Kimberly rolled her eyes. "That's not nice, Brooke." She lowered her palm to Andy. "Come on, Mr. Speed."

She carried him to the bathroom and shut the door. She brought her enormous face close and stole his breath with a full-body kiss from her plush, pink lips.

"There's a proper morning greeting for my little man," she whispered.

"Thanks, Kim. I have to tell you something quick, so listen carefully." He told her Brooke's plan to trick her, and how he needed her help to turn the tables on Brooke.

"This is why I love you," Kimberly said when he was finished explaining.

"So you'll do it?"

"Of course. Just wait for my signal, and I'll take care of the rest."

"Kim, don't eat me for real, okay?"

"I'll try not to."

She flushed the toilet to cover for the fact that he hadn't really used the restroom, and brought him back to the kitchen. Smoke was rising from a frying pan on the stove.

"Burn the house down yet?" Andy said.

"I got it under control," Brooke replied, turning down the burner.

He looked at the seared surface of a solid block of chicken in the frying pan. "Did you defrost it?"

She flushed red with embarrassment. "How do I do that?"

"Use the microwave," Kimberly said. She programmed the microwave to defrost and stuck the chicken on a plate inside it.

Brooke shooed them out of the kitchen. This was her meal, and no one was going to show her how to do it right.

They sat to eat at the dining table 20 minutes later. Brooke had overestimated the amount of chicken to cook. She placed a community plate of chicken in the middle of the table, while leaving over a pound of chicken in the frying pan in the kitchen. All in all, though, she did a pretty good job. They had shredded cheese, fresh guacamole, and diced tomatoes to go with their chicken fajitas.

"I served a little piece of chicken on Kim's plate for you, Daddy, so we'll have one less plate to wash," Brooke said. As far as she knew, all was going according to her plan.

Kimberly set him on the table. A hunk of chicken that was once as big as him lay in a hundred, fist-sized pieces on the edge of her plate. "Thanks, Brooke. It smells good."

The girls served themselves. Andy watched Kimberly reach an arm over him to spear a few pieces of chicken from the community plate and drop it into her tortilla. The tines of the fork she used were as long as his body and glinted menacingly. He winced at the ease with which the tines penetrated the tough chicken. When she finished preparing her taco, she raised it to her huge mouth for a bite. He heard the chicken crunch and grind between her teeth as she chewed methodically. She tilted her head back, and the muscles in her graceful throat flexed as she swallowed.

"What's the matter, Daddy? Haven't you seen  a giant eat before?" Brooke teased.

Kimberly put her taco back on the plate. The bite she had taken out of her taco was bigger than him. He could see the outline of her teeth in the bite left in the taco, each tooth mark wider than a clipboard.

He looked at his daughter. "Can I have some cheese, please?"

"Sure!" She took a pinch of shredded cheese and dropped it on the edge of Kimberly's plate, next to Andy's hunk of chicken. A few strings of cheese landed on his head. "Oops!"

Kimberly snickered. "Be careful, Brooke. If Mr. Speed gets mixed up with the food, he's liable to get eaten."

"And we don't want that, do we, Daddy?"

He pulled a string of cheese off his head, balled it up, and popped it in his mouth. He winked at his daughter. "Definitely not!"

Kimberly's mouth opened to release a throaty belch that made Andy's ears ring. "Excuse me." He looked at her uneasily, and seated himself with his legs over the edge of the plate and proceeded to eat his chicken bit by bit with his hands.


As they ate, Brooke prattled about everything under the sun, but Kimberly kept a close eye on Andy, so he had an excuse for not making his escape. Kimberly finished her taco and was picking at a pile of shredded cheese on her plate. Brooke sensed she was running out of time to buy her father a chance to break free before lunch ended.

"Kim, did you bring in the paper this morning?"

"Yeah. It's on the counter. Since when do you read the newspaper?"

"I want to look at the car ads." Brooke grabbed the paper off the counter and spread it out in front of her. "Hey, look at this!"

Kimberly didn't budge from her seat. "What is it?"

"It's a great deal on a 2013 Altima. It's perfect! Look." She jabbed her finger down on the ad, willing Kimberly to focus her attention on her side of the table.

Kimberly glanced casually at the ad. "Forget the Altima. What about that cute, yellow Jeep?"

Brooke looked down, priorities suddenly changed. "Where?"

Kimberly looked down at Andy, her blue eyes screaming, Run! "There in the upper right corner," she said.

With Brooke distracted, Andy sprinted for the edge of the table and jumped. He bounced off Kimberly's thigh and settled in the gully between her crossed legs, next to her crotch. Her bungalow-sized breasts, secured in her green blouse, formed a verdant ceiling above him. He silenced his voice amplifier for stealth.

Brooke saw the used Jeep Kimberly was talking about. She clucked her tongue in disappointment. "It's a stick shift. I can't drive stick."

"Your dad never taught you?"

Brooke glanced at Kimberly's plate. Her father was nowhere in the vicinity. "I don't think he knows how to drive stick himself," she said.

I can drive stick, Andy thought. It's just been about 15 years since—Whoa!

Without looking down, Kimberly snatched him from her lap and lifted him to her cheek. She casually leaned her head into her hand as she listened to Brooke and continued snacking on cheese, hiding the fact that Andy was nestled in her palm. Andy slid to the heel of her hand and looked up at the pale cheek of his teenage girlfriend, covered in short, downy hair. Her sweat from working outside in the still, morning heat was sour in his nostrils. He marveled at how big and alien her body felt to him at this scale.

When Brooke wasn't looking, Kimberly angled her wrist away from her face, letting Andy fall out of her hand onto her rough, green blouse, directly above her breast pocket. The pocket was 3 inches square, more than enough room to accommodate him. Like hiding from your mom between the racks at the department store when you were a kid. But the subtle shifts of Kimberly's hefty bosom stretched her blouse and caused the pocket opening to snap down over his waist.

Andy's upper body was exposed on the slope of Kimberly's green blouse, and he couldn't move. She glanced down. What is he doing playing on my boob? Does he want Brooke to see him? she thought. She lifted her shoulders imperceptibly, which buoyed her perky breasts and bunched her blouse above her bust. The pocket bowed open with newfound slack, and Andy fell out of sight.

A minute passed before Brooke said, "Hey, where'd he go?"

Kimberly looked expectantly at the spot Andy was standing at a minute ago.

"Dad?" Brooke called out. She started lifting things off the table, looking for him.

Kimberly ran her fingers under the rim of the plate in front of her. She opened her taco, the size of a school bus to Andy, finding only chicken, tomatoes, and guacamole. He could easily fit inside the taco and accidentally become part of her meal. "Uh-oh. You don't think I…"

"What?" Brooke said.

Kimberly emitted an anguished half-groan, half-howl. She stood up, knocking her chair back. "Oh, God! Brooke, your dad! I—I think I ate him. What do I do?!"

"I dunno!"

Kimberly ran her hands over her flat belly, as if she believed Andy was inside her, his tiny body digesting with the rest of her food. She squeezed below her waist, as if she could force him back up that way.

"Make yourself throw up!" Brooke suggested.

Kimberly picked up her glass and gulped down the rest of her water, spilling some on her cheeks and blouse in her haste. Then she ran to the sink, bouncing Andy like a rag doll in her breast pocket. She forced her fingers down her throat, causing herself to gag. At least, that's how it looked and sounded to Brooke.

Kimberly refilled her glass from the tap and gulped down more water. She started heaving into the sink.

Brooke had seen enough. She didn't want to see Kimberly actually throw up. She dug her knuckle into Kimberly's side. "Gotchya!"

Kimberly looked at her, eyes red and teary. "What?"

Brooke smiled smugly. "It was a joke, Kim. You didn't eat my dad. Come on out, Dad."

"How could you joke about something like that?" Kimberly said, sounding wounded. She's a good actress, Andy thought. He wiped his face on his sleeve. It was stifling hot. Heat was radiating from Kimberly's breast, and little fresh air made its way down into the pocket.

"Dad?" Brooke got on her hands and knees to look under the kitchen table. "Dad, prank's over. You can come out now."

Kimberly crossed her arms over her chest. "Where is he, Brooke?"

"He should be right here, where I told him to be." She looked around the counter, which separated the kitchen and dining area from the living room. "Dad!"

Kimberly followed her friend around the kitchen, still in character. "Did you see him go under the table?"

"I—I thought I did." She envisioned her dad running to the edge of the table while Kimberly wasn't looking. But that wasn't what happened, was it? It's what she had assumed happened. She never actually saw her dad move away from Kimberly's plate. One second he was there, and in the next second he was gone.

She checked the bottoms of her sandals for bloodstains. "Check your shoes."

Kimberly sighed, lifted her tennis shoes up for inspection. "This better not be part of your lame joke, Brooke."

Brooke wheeled on her friend. "It's not a joke anymore! I can't find my dad!"

"Maybe his voice amplifier died."

As if on cue, Kimberly's tummy gurgled audibly. A smile threatened to break through her placid face.

Still on her knees, Brooke's head swiveled around. Her horror-stricken eyes stopped mere inches from Kimberly's belly. Her vivid imagination pictured her tiny father inside Kimberly, passed out from lack of oxygen, digestive fluids slowly breaking down his flesh into nutrients to be absorbed into her best friend's body. He had told her he was afraid of getting eaten for real. And she hadn't listened.

She jumped to her feet. "Kim, he's inside you! I can hear him!" she cried.

"It's not funny anymore, Brooke—"

Brooke grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. "I'm not fucking joking! You really ate him!"

She pulled her friend to the sink. "We need to make you throw up, NOW!" She shoved the glass of water in Kimberly's face. Then she stood behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist, joining her hands over Kimberly's belly button.

"You drink, and I'll give you the Heimlich."

"The Heimlich is for a blocked windpipe, Brooke."

"We have to get him out of there. Now shut up and drink!"

"Okay, okay." Kimberly lifted the glass to her lips and pretended to drink. Brooke jammed her hands hard into her belly. "Ow."

"Keep drinking!" Brooke screamed.

"Okay." Brooke lifted her a few inches off the floor this time.

Kimberly landed unsteadily on her feet. "This isn't working, Brooke. I can't throw up on demand."

Brooke let her go and started pacing around the kitchen. "What are we gonna do?" she whimpered. She stopped in front of the pantry. She reached into the medicine shelf and pulled out a white bottle.

"Take these!" she said, forcing the bottle into Kimberly's hands.

Kimberly looked at the label. "Laxatives?" In her breast pocket, Andy howled with laughter.

"If you can't throw up, he has to come out the other end," Brooke explained.

"He can't go through my intestines, Brooke. My abdominal muscles will crush him to death."

Brooke flailed her arms in frustration. "We have to try something! I can't lose him. I can't let him… let him…" It was too ghastly to say aloud.

"Digest?" Kimberly said.

"Shut up!" She grabbed the laxatives and threw them across the room. "Forget that. We need to find something to make you throw up."

She turned to the pantry again, knocking things off the shelves, looking for something, anything, that could help them. Kimberly felt sorry for her. Typically it was at the point that you stop having fun that you abort a prank. This prank had gone on long enough.

"Brooke—"

Brooke seized a plastic, half-gallon jug of vegetable oil. "Chug this."

Kimberly shook her head. "I'm not going to drink that."

Brooke grabbed hold of her blouse so she couldn't get away. "If you don't throw him up, Kim, I'm going to cut him out of you." Her thumb flipped the cap off the jug and held it up to Kimberly's lips. "Drink."

"Brooke, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down. What's wrong with you? My dad's dying inside your stomach!"

"Your dad's fine. He's been here the whole time."

"Where…" Brooke's jaw dropped as Kimberly reached two fingers into her breast pocket and pulled out her dad, twisting from her fingernails by the scruff of his ill-fitting shirt.

"Gotchya!" they said together.

Brooke was dumbfounded. Her eyes darted between her 2-inch tall father and her sexy best friend, her mind working through what just transpired. The two dearest people in the world to her had taken her juvenile prank and used it against her. Her face turned purple with rage. It wasn't being the subject of a prank that angered her, but rather the trust between Andy and Kimberly that such scheming required. Somehow, she was jealous of both of them for the bond they'd evidently formed without her as an intermediate.

She shoved Kimberly hard in the chest. "You bitch! He was in your pocket the whole time?! I really thought you ate him!"

Kimberly held Andy over her open mouth, her pink tongue wriggling below his swinging legs. "Ahhh."

Brooke covered her humiliated face. "Stop it!" She spotted the full glass of water next to the sink. She grabbed it and splashed the water over Kimberly's face and chest.

Kimberly gasped as cold water soaked through her green blouse and ran in rivulets over her round breasts, showing the outline of her 36G bra. Her hand closed loosely around Andy's body as she lifted her arms away from the wet spot on her chest.

The exhilaration of the prank's success was joined by surprise at Brooke's retaliation. Kimberly grabbed the nearest thing within reach, the frying pan full of cooked chicken, and swung it like a tennis racket at Brooke.

Brooke backed away out of the frying pan's range, but chunks of chicken and brown, slimy grease soared through the air and spattered her face, neck, chest, and legs. "Ugh!" she groaned, looking down at her ruined outfit.

Kimberly tossed the empty frying pan on the counter and giggled.

A wicked smile crossed Brooke's lips as her hand tightened over the jug handle. She lifted the vegetable oil jug over her head and tilted it towards Kimberly. Kimberly lunged for it with both hands, forgetting she was holding Andy. She halted the jug's descent, but the viscous, yellow liquid poured out of the upturned container, drenching both girls.

Wanting no part in the titanic teens' playfight, Andy shrewdly rolled out of Kimberly's open hand the instant before it made contact with the heavy jug. He fell off her forearm and landed somewhere on Brooke's head, where he was not spared the deluge of vegetable oil. He tumbled through layers of Brooke's blow-dried blond hair, barely able to breathe through the thick globs of oil that covered his mouth and nose.

The jug clattered to the kitchen floor, and the girls grappled with each other, grunting and squealing. Neither of them was able to grip the other, on account of their slipperiness. Kimberly, who was 3 inches taller and about 20 pounds heavier than Brooke, lowered her shoulder into Brooke's chest and forced her smaller friend onto her back. She landed on top of her in a tangle of hair and limbs.

Andy held onto Brooke's scalp as she went horizontal. When the world came to rest, he climbed up a strand of her hair, hand over hand, like a rope. The steep angle of her head moderated and he crawled the rest of the way up. Soon he found himself on the crown of his daughter's head.

Kimberly raised up off Brooke's firm chest, pulled back her thick, sopping hair, and laughed.

"That was SO wrong," Brooke said.

"It was your dad's idea," Kimberly replied. Aching from the fall, and wondering where Andy had gotten off to, she didn't notice what was happening to her friend.

Brooke was breathing heavily, not from exertion, but from arousal. Her chest heaved, she bit her lips, she grinded her crotch on Kimberly's toned thigh. She could feel every curve of her childhood friend's wet, nubile body pressing into her. Her tender flesh couldn't help but respond. The stress of losing her mother and believing she had lost her father, too, caused years' worth of suppressed desires that had been bubbling under the surface to leap out of her like a humpback whale breaching the ocean surface. Impulsively, she slipped her arms around Kimberly's slim waist and pulled her in closer.

Kimberly felt the pressure on her lower back, saw Brooke's pale, freckled face approaching, mouth angling up to meet hers. Their lips touched. She gasped and raised herself onto her arms, breaking Brooke's hold on her. "What are you doing?"

"Kissing you." She moved swiftly, turning Kimberly's shoulders with her arms and pushing off the floor with her legs to roll Kimberly onto her back. Now Brooke was on top, straddling Kimberly's waist.

Andy held onto Brooke's hair as his world turned 180 degrees. He tumbled over the side of Brooke's smooth neck and down her shoulder. The strand of hair he was holding onto uncoiled and slipped through his hands when it pulled taut. He dangled inches above the summits of Kimberly's green blouse, which clung tightly to her large, oily breasts and canyon-like cleavage.

Having stolen the initiative, Brooke moved her hands over Kimberly's luscious body, and lowered her face for another kiss. There was nowhere to escape to for Kimberly this time. Brooke's mouth smacked and sucked her pursed, pink lips. The sensation was not unpleasant.

The space between the two girl's bodies was suddenly very narrow. Andy dropped from his daughter's hair onto Kimberly's soft mountains. He looked up to see Brooke's own well-endowed chest suspended over him, undulating with the effort being put into what sounded like a fiery, lesbianic kiss going on up by their faces. This, in addition to all the odd slurping noises that the girls' slick, supple bodies made as pockets of air were trapped and released by the intimate crush of their flesh, made for a unique sonic experience.

The girls seemed to have completely forgotten about him. Two hundred tons of breasts surrounded him on all sides, poised to squish him if he lingered too long. The only outlet was through Kimberly's slippery cleavage, which rumbled open and shut like the jaws of a trash compactor in response to Brooke's caresses.

He made a run for it, taking quick, short steps to keep his footing in the ankle-deep vegetable oil. He ducked as Kimberly's heavy swells slammed together at shoulder height with a sickening splat, with enough force to pop his head like a grape. He crawled on his belly the rest of the way out of her cleavage, stood up, and ran around her right breast to her collar bone. He jumped to the cold tile floor and ran a safe distance away, slipping and sliding in oil.

Brooke was moaning softly in delight. She propped herself up on the floor and lifted her head so she could see Kimberly's eyes. "How was that?"

Kimberly frowned and licked her lips. "You taste like chicken."

Brooke laughed and puckered her lips for another kiss.

"Wait, wait. We shouldn't do this."

"Why not? It's just kissing."

Kimberly couldn't think of a good reason why not. She glimpsed Andy gawking at them from 2 feet away.

"What about your dad?"

Brooke followed Kimberly's eyes to the diminutive form of her father. "Let him watch. He's been through a lot lately. He deserves to see this."

Kimberly brought her hands up to Brooke's thin shoulders, holding her at bay. "I really can't, Brooke."

"Why not?"

She looked at Andy again uncertainly. "I… have a boyfriend."

No, don't tell her, not like this! Andy thought. He waved his arms frantically, trying to head her offcourse.

The tiny man's actions were invisible to his monstrous daughter. She snickered, "Yeah right."

"I'm not kidding. I really do have a boyfriend."

Brooke sat up, eyeing her friend skeptically. "Who? What's his name?"

"Andy."

"'Andy'? You mean my dad?" she scoffed.

Kimberly's hand reached towards him. Andy hung his head, conceding his fate to the circumstances. There was no turning back now. The time for hiding their relationship from Brooke was over. If she was going to know about them, she needed to know how serious they were.

"It's true, Brooke. We're in love," he said wearily.

Brooke's face scrunched up in thought. "Dad, you and Kim?" she asked.

"Yes."

She looked at Kimberly. "You and my dad?" Kimberly nodded.

Andy studied his daughter's inscrutable expression. "We're not teasing you, Brooke. This is real. After your mother, Kim is the kindest, most thoughtful woman I've ever met. She helped me find that spark inside that passed away with Alecia. I love her with all my heart. The thought of not having her in our lives tears me apart. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want her to be a member of our family, permanently. What do you think about that?"

Kimberly felt faint. It was the first declaration of his love all over again. She ran the tip of her thumb over his neck and chest. He bent down and kissed her thumb affectionately.

"Kim, do you feel that way, too?" Brooke asked.

She looked at Andy, continuing to rub her thumb in slow, counterclockwise circles on his chest. "I do. The past month has been the saddest time of my life, and the happiest time of my life. Every time, your dad was there to give me the support I needed. I don't know how or why I chose him. But once I did it came so naturally to love him, and to be loved back."

Andy sobbed. He had no idea Kimberly was capable of such spontaneous poetry.

Their eyes turned expectantly to Brooke, who still sat atop Kimberly, dripping with vegetable oil, wet clothes hugging her young curves. She held a finger to her pouty lips, trying to figure out how she felt about all this.

After what felt like an eternity, she beamed brightly. "This… is going… to be… AWESOME!"