Even after Mia had finished in the bathroom, following a repugnant flurry of moist wall-clattering farts and rock-like sound effects splashing the toilet, my parents and I remained in the fetal position on the living room floor. My mother sounded like she was slowly asphyxiating in a gallows, and my father simply fell into furious hiccups in the lead-up toward puking. Throughout the haunting concert of farts and relief acts, the one thing I didn't hear, and which could've offered some fleeting succor, was the flush of the toilet. Conveniently, Mia had dropped the kids at the pool and departed back to her room without clearing it out.

            Gathering what little strength I had left, I crawled on my hands and knees to the bathroom, the very source of the disease-scented specter that hung messily in the air, but that was the only hope of putting an end to this catastrophe, at least until Mia felt the call of nature again. My parents, seeing a chance, shakily rose to open the windows and doors in a desperate bid to air out the property, though even after several minutes of cool evening breeze trying to enter, we weren't so much replacing the spoiled oxygen as just dispersing Mia's biological weapon of a fart-cloud to the suburban outdoors.

            I dragged myself across the bathroom tile and, clutching my panged lungs closed, climbed up the porcelain throne. The seat was still warm from where my towering sibling's flabby yet musclebound thighs and lunar ass cheeks had previously rested. As I pulled the silver flusher handle, my gaze flashed for only a split-second into the bowl before I closed my eyes. Nevertheless, the sloppy crime-scene horrors stuffed into that commode would stick deeply in my nightmares for years to come. Even after I'd successfully flushed Mia's digestive debris, the smell had in no way weakened; if anything, it had become stronger during the intervening minutes, causing my lips to tingle like smeared hot sauce extract.

            Upstairs, I could hear my mighty sister blasting yet more chunky, bovine farts from her sealed bedroom, and those gusty outbursts continued shaking the walls like a hurricane was coming, some of her cataclysmic toots even causing our home's foundations to grumble, if my ears weren't mistaken. I can't imagine we'd still be awake now if my parent hadn't opened the windows, though even with that small blessing, I was having trouble clinging to consciousness, in serious danger now of being knocked out cold by the nuclear wallop of my sister's gas.

            The three of us, Mia's most brutally abused personal playthings, helped one another in a collective stumble toward the door. We threw ourselves on the lawn, and though the air was marginally more palatable out here, I could feel the defecation-flavored fog chasing us out every opening in the trembling house. In our state of weakness, we hadn't a hope of outrunning Mia's crappy effluvium. I saw unassuming neighbors all down the block, washing cars and planting flowers and playing catch, not a one aware of the abomination cloud metastasizing toward them. All at once, though, it hit them, and since none of them even possessed the minor practice my parents and I had, our neighbors fell to their knees. They barked and whooped and clawed for mercy, all worming in the grass while a farting rampage permanently snaked through their homes.

            I could see then that our lives had changed again. Before there was still some semblance of normality, pretending to help Mia out of kindness rather than duty, but one doesn't have to keep those pretenses around an unforgiving deity of a giant girl. The last social barrier between my sister and every other lowly human had been broken. As her body continued to evolve, and I knew it would, causing her to grow well-past amazonian height and closer skyward, so too would her powers, her strength and stamina and totalitarian personality, but above all, the sheer fury of her gas, spreading to cover the neighborhood and probably soon the city, until every one of us was held hostage to Mia's wind. I could foresee it all, and yet knew there was nothing to be done, nor any force capable of withstanding or resisting my sister and her infinite, greasy, firecracker-deafening farts. How long would it take, I wondered, and how tall would my sister become, before the next gas-pass we smelled would be our last?