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Author's Chapter Notes:

Here begins the 4th story of this series, which chronologically takes place some time after the 2nd.

I used to think of sleep as a break from the rancid hell that had become my daily life "living" under the same roof as my nine-foot-tall self-appointed queen of a sister Mia, but now I was haunted even in dreams by the greasy musk of her anal expulsions worse than any demons I experienced in childhood nightmares. Of course this probably had to do with the fact that now, even with all the windows open 24/7, the AC blasting, and air fresheners in every room, our family home was suffused in every cubic-foot with her rectal stink. No matter what room we escaped to, what kinds of filters we used to block the scent, or how many showers we took to cleanse ourselves of the sticky odor, we still filled out lungs with it on every breath. We couldn't even step outside now, as my giant sibling's farts had infiltrated the neighborhood itself like chemical warfare. Many of the houses in a three-block radius were smartly vacated, as their residences were tainted and unable to be sold, in the way a skunk's spray could permanently meld with a piece of clothing.

            Mia had marked this street, this house, and even her family as her property. Sometimes that marking was psychological, as her attitude swelled in even greater proportion than her staggering height or Olympian physique; sometimes she just marked us more literally by grabbing us by the scruff like naughty puppies and nuzzling our faces into the firm pillow her sweaty short-short-clad glutes for a lung-tanking whiff. Since she was nearing double any of our sizes, it was easier than ever for Mia to control us, though she hardly needed to exert her actual strength to dominate us. The puke-worthy flavors constantly fuming from her asshole every instant of the day more than got the job done. I think she just enjoyed occasionally reminding us that she could toss us all around like her living dolls.

            This morning I awoke, as usual, to the bitter spiced aftermath of last night's dinner of Middle-Eastern food, a buffet's worth that mostly went between Mia's lips while my parents and I scurried to bring her plateful after plateful. Now I was smelling it all over again, of course having processed through Mia's active digestive tract, come out the other side, and puffed throughout the house with eye-watering aplomb. It was getting difficult to keep perspective of what was truly the "worst" olfactory event I'd suffered in her orbit, since every day my growing sister seemed to up the ante and pump yet more heinous gas from her taut-yet-jiggly rump, but it sure seemed like this week alone was reaching new depths of disgust. My parents and I were just getting used to a constant state of latent nausea and general humidity, thanks to Mia's backside bombs raising the temperature of the house by a solid twenty degrees, but the intensity of her stench was climbing faster even than we could adjust.

            Still, perhaps due to some form of Stockholm Syndrome, or just because any emotion other than revulsion brought odd comfort, I'd found myself recently fascinated by Mia's evolution, as well as suitably repelled by her moist meaty flatulence. No matter what she'd done to us, or how much I feared and loathed her power advantage especially given her younger age and bratty attitude, I still couldn't help but objectively respect her sheer size. In my guiltiest most private moments, I might even dare admit that I slightly enjoyed seeing her steady ascent. She was growing so fast, remaining inexplicably eye-catching in her beauty as well as her superhuman athletic toning, that it stood in harrowing contrast to the ugly aromas her gut produced like a factory of horrible smoky perfumes. Knowing my sister was probably still out on her morning jog now, getting nice and soaked in perspiration in order to add another salty flavor to the already-repugnant whirlwind of farts she'd craft post-breakfast, this was my best chance to sate my inquisitiveness of her development, and keep my mind briefly off the nasal torments to come.

            So I hopped out of bed and tiptoed down the hall to the master bedroom, which of course Mia had usurped recently to accommodate her immense stature, and also just because it was so easy for her now to boss my parents around to get whatever she wanted. There was some brief half-hearted resistance when she first told them she was taking the room, but all it required was burying our mom and dad's faces between her cheeks for an especially pungent blow-out to win the debate. The larger she grew, in fact, the more of our lives became dedicated to serving the new head of the household, not just working furiously to feed her insatiable appetite for fart-fuel, but acquiring expensive specially-tailored clothing to fit that nine-foot amazonian frame, furniture that wouldn't buckle when she set those boulder-like ass cheeks down, and keeping her palace spotless, especially her porcelain throne (a hellish duty that usually fell to me).

Plus, we all had to take on extra part-time jobs just to afford the weekly quadruple-digit grocery bills, which meant we putting in even greater labor just to help Mia increase the power of the same gas which would soon make us woozy from its boggy essence. But arguing this point with my sister was unwise, and I actually enjoyed the brief respites away from this stinky lair anyway, no matter that I was financially aiding in digging my own smelly grave.

            I stood in the middle of my sister's huge room. Even with Mia gone now, her presence still hung thick in the air, literally, with the damp gaseous fog she'd popped off before heading out to exercise, as well as her custom grand-scale bathroom nearby. As a result I was sick with paranoia while trespassing, as well as sickened by the oily falafel-flavored sphincter-squeezed haze becoming even more potent here in proximity to her obscenely huge toilet.

Trembling, I approached her dresser and opened the largest drawer, revealing stacks of parachute-like panties made to fit the bubble-butted hindquarters of such a gigantic young woman. One by one I removed them, held them against my pitifully-dwarfed body, and humbly put them back, reminded even in my sister's absence of her superiority. What's more, my curiosity only deepened, attempting to fathom the growth that had given her dominion over us with her strength, height, and of course show-stopping odor that made our whole house smell like a gas station u-bend.

Another drawer revealed her bras, with humongous cups that could've covered my whole head twice over, and though her undergarments looked like they belonged to a morbidly obese person, they looked perfectly natural on Mia, whose assets were once above-average but not astonishing, until they were scaled to fit the shape of a nearly story-tall human. Now she was as buxom as she was burly, her piercing gaze and long dark hair belying the monster under the model-esque appearance.

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