Scott’s heart thumped up another ten beats per minute at the sound of Bailey’s request. He leaned forward in his sister’s palm, still firmly restrained by her caging fingers.

            “Right now?” Maggie giggled. “You want to play with him on your feet now?”

            A lump traveled through Scott’s throat. Blinking, he peered anxiously down below at Bailey’s bare feet in her purple flip-flops. Her slender toes bobbed violently against the foamy base of the shoe. Doubtlessly already picturing his head being mashed beneath them.

            “Why not?” Bailey pressed. “See? Look at him, checking them out. He’s probably curious, too.”

            “He’s proooobably not. He was under a lot of gross old lady feet today,” Maggie said.

            “Well, that’s why this is better,” Bailey insisted. She paused in the carpeted hallway outside Judy’s bedroom, arching her sole against the floppy footwear. “Cuz I don’t have gross old lady feet. Why’d he wanna be under a bunch of gross old lady feet in the first place?”

            Scott gnawed his tongue, resolving not to make an embittered outburst regarding the fact that he obviously had no choice in the matter. Regardless of Maggie’s more generous mood toward him lately, that didn’t mean Bailey wouldn’t eventually get him underneath her heels. And in that scenario, he’d probably thank himself for having made an optimal first impression.

            “Mom’s friends all came over to talk about campaign stuff,” Maggie said. “That’s just what he does when they’re here.”

            Scott tried not to roll his eyes. Would it have been too much for his sister to note that it wasn’t his choice? Not that it mattered either way.

            “Oh, I see how it is,” Bailey said, eyes narrowing as her smirk curved wider. Her hand hovered above Scott’s head, her fingertips grinding together. “That makes more sense.”

            How the hell did that make more sense?

            “He’s good at it down there,” Maggie said helpfully, offering her brother such an encouraging smile that Scott realized she truly believed it was a compliment. That she actually thought he’d be happy to hear he made a useful miniature masseuse.

            “So I’ve heard,” Bailey said. She pinched the thong of her flip-flop between her big and second toes, dangling the footwear off the floor. “But I’ll believe it when I feel it.”

            “I bet you will,” Maggie laughed.

            “How about it? I’d rather he was smaller, but I can make do,” Bailey said. She opened her palm again, clapping her fingers against the creased center. “C’mon. Please?”

            “Hmm…” Scott’s sister splayed her fingers out at last, releasing her affirming grip on the young man’s limbs.

            “If you want, you could show me how it’s done first,” Bailey suggested.

            The hammering in Scott’s chest hastened again. While Maggie might have had enough preservation sense to avoid handing him directly over to a new handler, she was also personally notorious for a near-constant willingness to place his shrunken body under her soles. And clearly, Bailey was wise to this weakness.

            “He does look a little sleepy…” Maggie sighed, turning Scott over in her hand. Her fingers wedged under his stomach, flipping him at the hip. “Might not be as good at rubbing.”

            “So what? He looks pretty strong… for a little guy, anyway… I bet he can handle it. He’s in college, right? Or was in college. He’s probably used to working late.”

            As warm as Scott had become in his sister’s hands, his veins chilled at Bailey’s tactical reasoning. She certainly worked fast. Already he could see Maggie’s lips shifting back and forth in thought. Pivoting on her sandaled heel, she briefly turned away from Baily, bringing Scott up nearer to her mouth.

            “Tired?” she whispered, so low the sound of her moist lips brushing together almost drowned out the word.

            Scott nodded.

            “Tomorrow,” she uttered. “Just me?”

            Scott shrugged and nodded again. The second not-unreasonable deal his sister had posed today. It was the handiest way to avoid an almost-certain roughhousing under Bailey’s peds tonight. Plus, Maggie might even agree to make him twelve inches tomorrow. How could he refuse?

            “Maybe another time,” Maggie said back at regular volume, turning back around to face Bailey.

            “Aww. Seriously?” Bailey moaned, letting her body sag dramatically. She jabbed a long finger beneath Scott’s chin. “Did he talk you out of it?”

            “No,” Maggie scoffed with a smile. Her fingers folded back around her brother’s body. “He’s not exactly good at talking out of things, if you can’t tell. That’s why he’s the tiny one and I’m the one that can change his size whenever I want and put him in my shoe.”

            “Uh-huh,” Bailey said, unconvinced. Miraculously, though, her flip-flop touched back down to earth with a sound slap against her giant sole. “When was the last time you put your brother in your shoe, anyway?”

            “Two days ago. For four hours, actually. Why?”

            Scott felt the impaired air in his lungs deflate with relief at last. Maggie was just putting on a show. He supposed it was just to maintain her reputation. In reality, she hadn’t worn him in her shoe for a year, and he was eternally grateful for it. And luckily, Bailey seemed to have bought it.

            “Let me see him, at least,” Baily requested softly, her gaze imperious upon Maggie’s baby-blues. Her fingers parted again above Scott’s head, her thumbnail cutting a path through the wisps of his hair.

            “Okay,” Maggie said happily. Her palm heaved beneath Scott’s back. “C’mon, little boy. You’ve had enough finger-cuddle time. Say hi to Bailey.”

            Forcing himself to be glad that his sister had at least spared him an introduction to the new girl’s feet if not her hands, Scott awkwardly went limp and allowed himself to be passed between the palms of the overbearing teenagers. Instantly he felt the cold of Bailey’s skin compared to Maggie’s, shivering a little as a sly smile accompanied her closing fingers.

            Within a few seconds of taking control of Scott’s body, Bailey’s fingers made themselves at home. Rather than merely snaking about his limbs with the mere intention to contain, as Maggie’s had, the girl’s thumbs were making their way up Scott’s shirt, tracing a line to his chest. He winced as her lengthy manicured nails tested the give of his skin.

            “He’s kinda fussy,” Bailey commented to Maggie.

            “Yeah, no kidding.”

            “Just hold still,” Bailey instructed clinically to her prisoner. Her iron fingers tightened their grip around the young man, fastening his thighs down to her palms, while her thumbs continued their investigation of his torso. The cold imparted to his skin, rippling goose bumps up along his body beneath her gridded touch. It was a rather unfortunate contrast, even from his sister’s more possessive grasp, and especially after the care and attention he’d been shown by Ella earlier in the evening.

            “Careful,” Maggie giggled off-handedly.

            “I always am,” Bailey defended. Her thumbpad squeezed on Scott’s abdomen. For a few seconds, she only seemed concerned with playing with his breathing supply, pumping up and down on his stomach. However, her expression had changed, a wrinkle forming in her nose as she drew him closer to her face.

            “What is it?”

            “His skin is sticky all over under this shirt,” she said. “Ewww…”

            “I didn’t have time for a bath after Mom’s thing,” Scott said instantly in his sister’s direction. He huffed, gasping up another chance for breath as Bailey’s fingers collapsed into his tiny stomach again.

            “God, that’s nasty. Do you not even think about the people that have to pick you up and carry you places, little person?” Bailey demanded with sickly melodrama. She stretched each syllable out, letting her tongue click against the roof of her mouth. “You must not be learning a whole lot from all these “lessons” you’re getting.”

            “He did take a bath, though,” Maggie commented, her brow furrowed. “Mom gave him one. I saw her doing it in the bathroom sink. And she always cleans him all the way.”

            “Wait,” Bailey said. “Where was he before we got here?”

            Scott’s gut lurched, and not just because he had an enormous dark-haired interrogator clenching the oxygen out of his body. This wasn’t a conversation he was in the mood to have.

            “With his girlfriend,” Maggie continued, perking up at the mention of Ella. “She’s super cool and super pretty. She’s probably out of his league, honestly.”
            “Girlfriend, huh?” Bailey said, a mischievous glow alighting in her eyes. Her grin broadened into its widest position yet. “I guess somebody was getting busy tonight.”

            Scott’s cheeks flushed red in spite of his current captor’s frigid digits. Sure, he’d experienced many indignities worse than this, far too many to count, but there was a very special kind of awkwardness reserved in a sleeping corner of the heart for when one’s sibling became aware of one’s sexual activity. It couldn’t have been much more humbling than if Maggie had discovered this information when he stood at his real height of six feet. For once, his embarrassment was one he felt he could share in solidarity with most of humanity.

            “Huh?” Maggie murmured.

            The sexual deviant watched his sister’s face contort with confusion. Idly, he wondered if she was actually struggling with the concept of her brother having intercourse, or if she was attempting to determine the actual mechanics of it for a six-inch person. More likely it was the latter, which was doubly as humiliating.

            Though, frankly, it was probably a fair natural consideration. It had certainly taken him and Ella a few tries to figure it out.

            “What, you can’t tell?” Bailey snorted. She pressed her nostrils down against the top of Scott’s head, inhaling in one long draw that partially sopped his hair into the entrance of her nasal cavity. The tip of her tongue pressed through the barrier of her lips in the corner. “He was up in that business. All the way up in that business, I bet.”

            “Ohhh…” Maggie drawled, her tongue curled up against the roof of her mouth as her crystal irises widened to dinner plates in view of Scott. He genuinely couldn’t read her tone as shifting more toward disgust or curiosity.

            “Bet you didn’t know that was happening,” Bailey suggested truthfully. Her fingers removed themselves from beneath Scott’s shirt, and instead coiled back around his sides into a powerful fist. Her free index finger snaked up into her closed hand, out of Maggie’s sight, and prodded sharply at his member through his jeans. “But I guess your little brother is growing up after all.”