By some miracle, my parents and I were spared any further noxious fumigation for the rest of breakfast, though the last gassy spurt still lingered humid and moist in our nostrils, making us dizzy from the sting. That raunchy ghost of last night's Middle-Eastern feast, festering all night in my sibling's piquant guts and then filtered through her dirty sweat-sogged shorts before finally arriving in our faces, was more than enough travesty for one morning, though I knew we were just getting started. When she finished, Mia leaned back and patted her flat bronzed tummy, full of enough hearty sustenance to feed a whole sports team. To show her contentment, she sighed and breathed out the spiced flavors of her recently-scarfed meal like a dragon's flame. As fragrant as this undesirable preview was, it was but a seed of the turmoil we'd all face later when those same throaty aromas of eggs, bacon, and beans were evacuated out the back end, having been amplified and enhanced by basting in her entrails.
"Thanks for the help, you three. That really hit the spot," Mia announced. She belched once more, then stood to stretch, causing the almost-stagnant stench of the room to reignite around us while her limbs fanned. "I guess we'd better get going. I've got some serious iron to pump, Hal needs to spot me, and I know Mom and Daddy have to get started on cooking me lunch so it's ready when we get back. Ugh, I'm already kinda hungry for it, isn't that sad? But that's what happens when you work as hard as I do: everything you put in your mouth just turns into fuel. Well, don't just sit there, lil' guy, these pythons of mine need to be fed, too. Let's hit the gym!"
Half an hour later, I stood mutedly beside my nine-foot sister while she lay on a bench and repeatedly bench-pressed more weight than I could've lifted if my life depended on it. Earlier in Mia's growth, I might've felt emasculated being made to play caddie to my younger sibling who had become my physical superior in every way. Yet her evolution had grown so extreme now, putting her more into the realm of a mythic amazon rather than just an unusually-tall hyper-talented human athlete, it felt silly for me to be humiliated. One-and-a-half times my height, and brawny as hell without compromising her feminine physique, Mia showed off her iron-wrought anatomy with every difficult pump. Technically I was meant to spot her weightlifting, but my sister would never "need" my help, and I couldn't have done it even if she asked. My purpose was much closer to that of a jester for a queen.
"That was a pretty good one, wasn't it, Hal?" she huffed, slamming the barbell onto the rack and grabbing her protein shake.
"Y-Yeah, um... impressive."
"Damn right it was. Bet you couldn't do even ONE of those, could you?"
"Probably not."
"Ha! That was a trick question, dork. Obviously the bar would crush your little neck if I made you try it. Don't worry about that, though. Leave this kind of work to the people bigger, stronger, and tougher than you. Like me," Mia said. She messily guzzled half the drink, then wiped her mouth and handed me the bottle. "Just do what you do best and go get me some more protein."
I raced away to perform my task in the locker room, as always knowing that dawdling wouldn't be accepted. Dumping a fresh round of protein into the bottle, I was again struck by the fact that I was personally abetting the kinds of substances which would make Mia's evening fecal funk even more robust when it was eventually steamed back out of her anus via a vile combination of loud airy BLAPs and warm jet-streams of continual reek. But there was no time to mourn for that future hair-curling queasiness, and so I sprinted back to my sister's side. I decided to instead just enjoy what little time I had away from the house, which by comparison even to a ratty gym locker room now stunk so badly of my sister's meteoric toilet-essence that our place of residence may as well have been a sewage plant.
Though it turned out I didn't have long to savor fresher oxygen.
"Oh, good, you're back. I can't do this next one without you," Mia barked, accepting the drink and draining its contents again. She waved me toward the squat rack, a part of her workouts I'd come to abhor, due to all the activity it required of her steel buns, flexing and inflating them while practically begging fate to loosen her overly-generous sphincter to whistle a stuffy bean-powered song. The heavy plates were already in place, so I couldn't imagine what she required of me.
The answer came when my sister pressed her palm against the top of my head and forced me down to my knees on the platform. I assumed a seated position, alarmed at the idea of camping right where Mia was about to squat those bulky hindquarters while again shouldering enough weight to conk me out, but too afraid of defying her coaching. Satisfied, Mia straddled my hips with her feet, taking a wide stance, so her pert heiney jiggled above my head like an avalanche waiting to happen. She grasped the bar, the metal groaned, and she heaved it onto her shoulders. This caused a chain reaction of shuddering down her whole frame, especially in those burly yet malleable buttocks.
"Just keep your head down, shrimp, and try not to move. Like, seriously, don't move, or you'll probably get hurt, and it won't be my fault. I'm trying to work on my squat form, which means I need a marker to let me know my cute little booty's gone low enough, and I can't think of a better tool for measuring it than your head! Yes, that's a compliment."
"T-Thanks," I muttered, only feeling more unnerved.
"You're welcome. Now shut up so I can earn my next meal."
She didn't have to tell me twice. I braced myself, desperately wary of throwing Mia off her game and causing her to drop the leaden bar on me or, probably worse, the simple act of distracting her in the middle of an exercise. My sister's temper could be every bit as unpleasant as getting iron dropped on my skull, though both outcomes would pale in comparison to any furious and pestilential reaction she might offer from where the sun didn't shine. And I was right in the line of fire. Paralyzed by anxiety, I sat still as a statue, and let Mia grunt all the way into a deep squat, so her spandex-wrapped cheeks parted and descended, bopping my cranium with their gigantic bouncy heft.