When I was 12 my father fell in love with a Dutch woman. Her name was Helen and she worked high-up in finance, my father met her because he was a remote accountant working directly under her and they spawned some form of connection over zoom conferences. It morphed into flirtation and soon those two couldn’t stop sending each other private messages on Skype and it wasn’t long before she had him relocated to Sydney in an office down the hall from hers. As if a mouse made their hole next to the cat’s bed.

Helen was an ex-rower, she was tall, much taller than me or my dad with a full-figured athletic body that’d aged gracefully into her forties. She lived in a penthouse on the harbour at the time and welcomed us with open arms. It was a couple of years before they married and I was yet to go through a proper growth spurt, I hadn’t surpassed my father’s measly 5’4, and compared to Helen, I had to turn my head to the side when she took me in a warm hug as her bosom enveloped the top of my head.

Then I met Helen’s daughter, Quinn. She was three years younger than me with blonde hair like her mother. I thought her a little odd at first but in hindsight it was hormones and a distinct lack of knowledge about girls. I didn’t like that she was almost as tall as me and our first few interactions were awkward and we didn’t hang out in our spare time, if anything we would occasionally watch a movie together. We weren’t close at that age; we were strangers forced together because our parents were in love.

Soon we moved into a bigger house to support our new family. Somewhere in Sydney’s North-Eastern suburbs and I started at the co-ed school that Quinn went to. One morning we caught the train together dressed in our navy-blue school uniforms, and I was playing Pokemon Heartgold on my DS and I could tell Quinn kept glancing at the screen until she was simply just watching. She asked what I was playing and I told her and she kept asking more questions about it. I showed her my pokemon, she liked Feraligatr a lot. She asked me why my character was a girl and I shrugged and said because I like her. In the afternoon I found her waiting by the school’s front gate for me and we caught the train home together. She told me she waited for me because she wanted to watch me play again and I found myself unable to contain my excitement as I went on and on about different Pokedex entries I thought were interesting. Quinn asked for a DSi XL and Pokemon Soulsilver for her birthday and those morning and afternoon commutes became some of my fondest childhood memories. We spent a lot of time together, huddled under the covers playing in the dead of the night, though she’d often tease me about having a smaller screen.

Then our parents got engaged and I started high school. Quinn no longer caught the train in the morning because she’d joined the volleyball program and had training before school instead, so naturally we drifted a little without that tying bond and our relationship moved more into the usual sibling hostilities where we’d argue over the TV or get pissed at whoever managed to make it into the shower first. When I hit tenth grade was when Quinn matched me in height and one hot summer’s afternoon, she came home from practice in her sports uniform drenched in sweat and we ran into each other in the kitchen. She went straight for the ice-cold jug and poured herself a glass before greedily gulping it down, I don’t know why but I couldn’t stop watching her throat bulge with each gulp. She finished the glass, still panting a bit but looking right at me, her eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer and I felt the warmth radiating off her body. We were eye to eye.

“You’re so short,” was all she said and walked past me and soon passed out on the couch.

One year later on our parents’ wedding night, somewhere far out in the country, Quinn and I were lounging beside each other on lawn chairs looking up at the stars, we were closer those holidays because we’d been binge watching IMDb’s top 100. The adults were inside still dancing in the farmhouse, the bass of The Police thumped through the wrap around porch. We were just chatting about random things and talking about what we were going to do when our parents went on their honeymoon. Then she asked me if I’d ever kissed anybody and I said no and she turned around on her chair to face me and asked me if I wanted to try it. It stumped me because maybe I did want to a little bit but I told her we couldn’t because now we were brother and sister and we fell into silence.

“It doesn’t feel like you’re my brother,” she said.

And of course she had a point, our parents often made a point of how different we were. My skin was olive and I had a mop of curly black hair and her skin was fair and she had straight blonde hair. I had brown eyes and she had blue eyes. We were both on our side facing each other.

“Can I see your hands?” she asked.

I held my hands out to her and she took them in hers, gently rubbing her thumbs over my knuckles, playing with my fingers and taking a good look at them.

“I like your hands,” she said. “They’re so soft.”

I blushed and said thank you and that I liked hers too. She pushed our left hands together and her fingers just eclipsed mine. “Mine are bigger though,” she giggled and I laughed too as I threw her hand away.

“I’m not done growing yet,” I said.

“Yeah, but I’m growing faster.”

She wasn’t wrong, in the last year she’d shot past my eye and I found myself looking up at her when we spoke, eye level with the tip of her nose.

“Imagine how much taller I’ll be when we’re older,” she said.

There wasn’t much point in arguing the fact. “How tall do you think you’ll get?”

“Taller than mum at least. Apparently dad was a giant too.” 

Helen was an enormous woman and I hardly came up to her chest and it made me feel weird to imagine Quinn in that position, towering over me so surely, having to literally bend her neck to look down at me.

“I wonder how much bigger your hands would be then,” I said.

“Maybe you’d juuust cover my palm,” she giggled at the thought of it, circling on her palm how small my hand would be. My imagination did the rest.

Our conversation slowly petered out and at the tail end of the night of our parents’ festivities, we went past all the drunk adults back to our room and pushed our beds together to lay next to each other and we dozed off to some random YouTube Let’s Play Quinn put on her iPad, her head lolled against my shoulder, and we fell asleep like that.

We never spoke about that night again. I think we both had the realization that we were technically and legally siblings now and that was the end of it. She was my sister and I had to love her like that. And I did.

Soon I was in my final year of school. I was planning on going into physiotherapy and heard of an exclusive program in Denmark that motivated me to keep my head in the books and I graduated with the ATAR I needed and after a successful application I was bound for Copenhagen for the next four to five years. By the time I left, Quinn was 15 and while I’d actually caught back up to her somewhat as puberty squeezed out the last of my height, she’d been going through a spurt, and I found myself staring far up at her again. She’d dropped out of the volleyball program and blossomed into one of the best upcoming rowers at our school and was no longer tall and skinny but tall and strong as she so elegantly followed in Helen’s footsteps. She grabbed me in a huge hug before I left and cried into my shoulder and told me she’d miss me, and I told her I’d miss her too.

College was obviously fun but I’m not one to go on about it. I made a lot of friends and had my flings here and there; I’d been dating a girl named Hazel for the last two years but we broke up a few months ago which made my fifth year lonely since most of my friends had moved on from the college by then. And to cap it all off, going into my final year a virus became widespread and shocked the world into lockdown. It was easily contagious and appeared deadly in some cases. I took all my classes from my tiny dorm room and my graduation was slated to be over a zoom call and by the time I finished my fourth year, the dorms were quiet since most people had moved back home or were encouraged to stay in lockdown. It was a sad way to cap off my college life, but these things happen I suppose, every once a century or so. I decided it would be best if I moved back home for my last semester which would be online anyway, so I packed my bags and told my dad I was coming back.

I caught a plane from the city airport and was excited to see my family again, I’d flown home a couple of times while I was at college, but I hadn’t visited since I dated Hazel. I missed dad and I missed Helen to some extent too, but I was mostly thinking about Quinn. Each time I’d gone home she was taller and taller. She wasn’t so active on social media but I saw glimpses of her aging in photos, how she looked more and more like Helen, but she had a softer roundness to her face whereas Helen was more angular, they had the same thick eyebrows, sky blue eyes, thin nose and dimples around their warm smile. The most recent photo my dad had sent me was of the three of them in front of the opera house where he was sandwiched between both of them, only coming up to their chest. Quinn had graduated from school at this point too, she’d become the captain of our 1st VIII boat and lead them to a close second at Head of the River which is the closest our school had come to winning in two decades. She was such an athlete. I zoomed in on a photo she’d sent me after the race, of her and her best friend posing with their silver medal, my eyes were drawn to the round swells of Quinn’s breast as they fought for space in her tight zootie but I quickly chastised myself for even having such a thought. I hadn’t grown any since finishing school and I couldn’t really wrap my head around what it would be like to face Quinn now.

I let my mind wander about other things for the rest of the flight and when I landed in Sydney I caught the train home. It was a ten-minute walk from the station to our house and I trudged up the hill with my suitcase before I paused in front of our white gate catching my breath and looking upon our two-story home with its sloping grey tiled roof. It was a hazy afternoon and the sky was starting to glow above the house with a soft lavender tinge. I knocked on the door and waited.

There were excited footsteps inside and they loudened as they approached the door and it swung open to reveal Quinn beaming down at me. She was dressed casually in a tank top and exercise shorts and her blonde hair was tied in a spiky bun.

“Bailey!” She shouted and pulled me into a tight hug upward, only my toes touched the ground. “Awwww I missed you,” she said into the top of my head and pulled me tighter.

By this point I had levelled out at a paltry 5’5 and it seemed like she had at least a foot in height on me as she pressed me deep into her chest. She wasn’t only taller now, she’d filled out all over, with broad shoulders like Phelps and a frame I wrapped my arms around like she were a tree, I felt the powerful muscles in her back tense as she hugged me harder again. She smelled like the Quinn I knew and it immediately flooded me with nostalgia and summer afternoons.

“I missed you too,” I said, our hug coming to an end.

Now that we stood apart, I gave her a once over, mostly out of reflex because of her stature and those trunk legs pulling her shorts tight, but it was long enough to where she’d noticed and had her hands cocked on her hip and smiled down at me smugly.

“Whatcha lookin’ at punk?” she teased.

“It’s just, you’ve grown a bit,” I matched her smile, I knew I shouldn’t let my eyes linger like that. She’s my sister.

“Only a couple of inches, I was taller than you last time.”

“Not this tall!” I gestured up at her.

“I don’t know… maybe you shrunk,” she flashed me these wide playful eyes and spun on her heel and beckoned me. “Come on, come in. Mum and dad are still at work.”

She’d grown more confident with age and had a sureness to her I hadn’t really seen before. And god help me but I couldn’t help watching her big ass sashay inside, chewing the seam of her shorts. I was replaying those words, maybe you shrunk, the thought of only being as tall as her knees, having to ignore the enormous presence of those long and powerful legs, her butt blotting out the sun. It was obvious she took care of herself and probably frequented the gym, but I couldn’t look at her like that, I couldn’t think about her like that. She’s my sister.

I lugged my suitcase behind me and followed her inside. It was similar to how I remembered, a bunch of shoes and heels by the foyer which opened up to varnished floorboards and a high ceiling, the living space where the dining table and kitchen and its marble island were to the left and lavish leather couches were to the right facing the wide-screen TV, toward the back wall was the spiral staircase that lead upstairs to the bedrooms, there were a bunch of posters and artwork on the white walls, Helen was somewhat of a collector. Quinn made her way to the couches and flopped onto one and patted the space next to her.

I left my suitcase by the stairs and sat on the couch next to her. She asked me about my flight and the last two years, and I opened up to her about Hazel and why we’d broken up and she comforted me and said that it was her loss anyway. We briefly discussed how crazy all this virus stuff was, but it was all anyone ever spoke about these days, so we moved past it, and I asked her about school and what she was up to now and she told me before the lockdown happened she was in her first year of a business degree and was rowing for the University of Sydney. By this point I’d gotten comfortable and had my back against the armrest with my legs laid out, my feet almost touching Quinn’s thigh as she lounged into the corner of the couch with her long legs stretched out on the floor. She was telling me some stories of her early clubbing experience and was fiddling with the bun in her hair, in doing so both her arms were lifted and my wandering eyes glanced at her biceps and I couldn’t believe the definition and thickness of her arms. So when her story was over I asked her how often she went to the gym and she laughed and I immediately felt embarrassed.

“What makes you ask that?”

I blushed like an idiot. “I- it’s, I mean. Look at you,” was all I managed in my flustered state.

“Oh you mean these puppies?” She flexed her biceps and what I’d thought was defined and full before exploded into a bundle of powerful muscle. “What you wanna feel ‘em?”

“No, that’s not –”

She interrupted me and shoved my legs off the couch and scooched over so we were right next to each other and her huge bicep was flexing in my face. Her overbearing size dented the cushion and pulled me into her gravity slightly.

“Come on touch it,” she said. “I’m pretty huge huh?”

I timidly poked the solid flesh and she wrapped her other over my shoulders and flexed her arm against my cheek and when I tried to push her off she locked her arm around my neck in a headlock. I started to squirm in her vice grip and she just laughed at me.

“Well I can tell who hasn’t been going to the gym,” she said and flexed again and her bicep flared against my cheek and squished my face into her left tit which I felt fully through her thin tank top. My face was beet red. 

“Get off me!” I heaved against her arm and it only made her laugh harder as she manhandled me and jostled my body against hers, cleanly lifting me from the couch at times, it made me feel a lot smaller than I was. Eventually she let me go and I cowered into the corner of the couch. “You’re so evil,” I said.

While my face was red from exertion and laughing, she started poking me in the rubs until I was giggling uncontrollably and smacking uselessly at her huge mitts yelling at her to stop. Her fingers dug into my sides and sent me into another hysterical round, I had no escape from the armrest and I sunk further and further into the couch as she loomed over and continued to tickle me.

“Stop! Quinn stop! Please!”

She went on for a few more moments until I was properly squealing. “Okay, okay, I’m done,” she said, holding her hands up but still with a mischievous smirk as she hovered above. “I forgot you were so ticklish.”

“I can’t take it anymore.”

She sat back on the couch and I caught my breath.

“But what if…” she began, and I saw her toes and the plush, wide balls of her feet come into view and before I could react her toes attacked my side and I burst into a fit of giggles again. Her feet were so huge that when she dug her heel in, her foot almost reached across my stomach and with me slunk down so low into the couch it felt like she could just trap me against the armrest with her feet and easily hold me there. And I proved my theory when I tried to push them away and she easily overpowered me and threw my hands off and squashed my arm to my side with one foot and she plied my weight against the armrest, the dense ball of her foot, slowly, but heavily playing on my chest.

“Stoooop,” I wailed as another round of tickling began, her toes wiggling back and forth against my ribs. I was dying, I was hysterical.

I did the only thing I could think of and leant forward and bit her foot and she yelped and yanked it away.

“You little bitch!”

“Please!” I held my hands up in defense. “I’ve had enough. Seriously,” I said between panted breaths.

“The audacity,” she scoffed. “You have to kiss it better first.” She raised her long foot, so it was right in front of my face, there were fading teeth marks on the side.

“I’m not kissing your foot.”

“Do it.” She moved it closer.

“Quinn…” I met her narrowed challenging eyes.

“Doooo iiiiit~” she started wagging her foot in circles, getting closer and closer to my face. Her toes playfully scrunching.

I was overwhelmed by this overbearing attitude of hers and I ducked under and launched myself off the couch, leaving her to laugh at my daring escape, clearly my bite didn’t hurt that much. I was feeling quite strange after getting tossed around so easily by her. There were occasions in the past where we fought mano a mano, it’d been somewhat of an even match (Quinn would probably refute that) but after seeing how she’d so easily pushed my weight around like I was some kind of ragdoll made me feel a way I couldn’t parse. Even atop the couch I could tell she was a big girl, how she took up almost an entire cushion with those milky thighs, her shorts ridden up in her messing around.

“Now you owe me.” She poked her tongue at me.

“I don’t owe you shit.”

“You know I could just force you, right?”

“Whatever.”

Something was going on inside of me and I had to get out of there. As I walked around the couch to leave, Quinn turned around, so she was leaning over the back of the couch, wagging her big butt behind her. “Don’t sulk you big baby,” she said.

“I just need a bit of R&R,” I weakly smiled at her. My face hurt like I’d been laughing too much and was probably flushed a deep red.  

She pouted. “Fiiine, fair enough. Sorry if I was annoying you.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m just tired is all.”

“Well, you go rest then,” she said and turned back around to face the TV and sunk into the couch. “I’ll get you when dinner’s ready.” She flicked the TV on and opened Binge.

I grabbed my luggage and started to haul it upstairs. I heard Quinn shout after me when I reached the top of the stairs. “It’s good to have you back Bails!” That made me smile and I walked down the carpeted corridor and opened the door to my room. It was left mostly as I’d left it, my bed was made with navy sheets and my walls were covered by album covers I liked. There was a Totodile plush on my dresser that Quinn had gotten me for my 16th birthday. I collapsed in bed and stared at the aircon vents on the ceiling. I was trying to think about anything other than what I couldn’t stop thinking about. Quinn. She was all I could see when I closed my eyes. How I felt the skin on the back of my neck fold when I took in her enormity as she loomed from the doorway for the first time. How she’d so easily buried me in a headlock and held me against her warm body, she had softness to her but when she tensed those muscles, I felt the work she put in rise to the surface. Those soft, broad padded feet of hers, worn golden with callous from how often she was on her feet, I looked down at myself and remembered how one foot could almost cover the width of my torso. I felt a stir in my pants, and I rolled over and growled into my pillow. Was it because I was lonely? Was that why I felt it was okay to fantasize about Quinn? She is your little sister, I told myself that over and over again. She is your little sister. And again, she is your little sister. At which point another part of me became fed up. Stepsister, actually. I felt my ears go hot. And she’s not exactly little. And she’s fucking gorgeous. Now was that so hard to admit?

But I couldn’t do it. It felt too wrong. I distracted myself on my phone until I passed out drooling on my pillow. 

*

I woke up in a jet-lagged daze to Quinn leaning in my room from the doorway, knocking on my wall.

“Hey sleepy baby,” she said.

I mumbled something in response.

“Dinner’s here.” Her voice was warm.

“Mmm,” I rolled over yawning as I sat up in bed. “I’ll be down in a sec.”

Quinn disappeared and I heard her footsteps thud downstairs. Eventually, after pulling myself from bed, I tiredly made my way down too and was greeted by my dad and Helen as they both rose from the dining table to greet me. It was all hugs and kisses and it’s always funny to go from hugging dad, who is one of the few people I know that are shorter than me, to then hugging Helen who is among one of the tallest people I know. Her and Quinn at this point. I sat across from Quinn next to dad and we were having takeaway Thai that night since they worked late. Much like my discussion earlier with Quinn we went over everything that’d happened in the last two years and by the time we were finishing our meals, conversation had dulled slightly, so Quinn spoke up. She looked at Helen and said, “Bailey was surprised how tall I’d gotten.”

Helen heartily laughed and dad was smirking too. “How tall would you have been last time Bailey was here?” Helen asked.

“I think I was just over six foot,” Quinn said matter of factly and looked at me, twirling the last of some pad thai onto her fork.

“And what about you Bails?” Dad asked.

“I don’t know I don’t measure myself.”

“I feel like you were only up to my chin,” Quinn said.

“Wow you’ve got such a good memory.”

She poked her tongue at me.

“We must have photos from the beach trip,” Dad said excitedly and pulled out his phone to start looking through his pictures, he loved taking photos on his phone.

“That was years ago honey,” Helen said. “Get up you two I want to see.”

I could tell Quinn was hiding the satisfaction she got from making me compare my height with her in front of our mum and dad and she flashed me these wide eyes and a delighted smirk as if to say ‘gotcha’ and she pushed her chair back and rose. Helen had always found the height disparity between me and her daughter hilarious and often referred to me and dad as their ‘little men’. I wasn’t going to cause a scene over some lighthearted ribbing, so I stood up and Helen immediately clasped her hands together and cooed at the sight of us.

Quinn and I stood at the end of the table and she wrapped her arm around my shoulders and pulled me into her, she was still wearing the casual wear from before and I leaned to the side so my cheek didn’t collide with the side of her boobs but she just pulled me tighter and smushed me against her soft tank top covered flesh, which didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination. The rest of my body was easily outsized by her too, the curve of her hip dug into my stomach below my ribs and I felt her massive butt rounding out the back as she kind of wiggled into me slightly as if she was really trying to feel how much smaller my body felt against hers. Of course, it was mostly for Helen’s amusement it seemed as she happily clapped and aww’d at drastic the difference in our height as grown adults.

“Last time I checked I was half an inch over six seven,” Quinn said proudly.

“That’s my girl,” Helen said.

I looked at dad and he shrugged. “Sorry about the genes son,” he smiled.

“Thanks dad,” I said.

“Now go back-to-back,” Helen made a little spinning motion with her finger.

Quinn and I complied and I felt the plushness of her butt spread across my back, wider than my back as she backed right into me. She looked down at me over her shoulder and giggled. “Aren’t you supposed to be my big brother?” She wiggled her butt into me, pushing me off balance.

“That’s too precious,” Helen said, then to my dad. “Quinn’s leg is almost as tall as Bailey.”  She was exaggerating of course.

It began to feel weird with all this attention on my lack of height and I stepped away from Quinn and sat back down. Quinn sat down too and was trying to catch my eye but I wouldn’t look away from my empty plate as I poked it awkwardly with my fork. Mum and dad started to talk about work and I felt Quinn kick my foot under the table, finally I gave in and looked at her and she pointed at me and then pinched her finger and thumb together and mouthed ‘so little’.

That was too much and I got up and used my jetlag to excuse myself. I left my family at the table and rushed upstairs to my room and jumped into bed, face down in my pillow. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep but it was no use and my mind kept settling on visions of Quinn. And a war of attrition started as I lectured myself but then reassured myself and soon the reassurances took over as I thought about the warmth of Quinn’s body as she held me against her hugeness, she liked to tease me about my height in the past but there was something about the way she did it now that was driving me wild. I knew why she drove me wild, it wasn’t a secret, but she was my little sister. I was her big brother. I was supposed to be her big brother, but how could I honour myself with such a title when compared to Quinn. She made me feel less than her with her sheer presence and eventually the lines blurred between little sister and big brother, and I settled on big sister and my hand snaked its way into my pants. She’s my big stepsister.

And what do you know, the next morning I woke up ill. 

The most plausible reason as to how I caught the virus was because I’d been travelling through international airports. But another part of me thought it was heavenly retribution for my impure thoughts. I awoke in bed with some gentle morning light streaming through the window above and I felt awful. Congested and lethargic, my muscles ached like I’d run a marathon. I texted my family group chat that I was sick and because Helen and dad were busy at work it was on Quinn to take care of my needs in the meantime. She brought an instant test kit to my room and lo and behold I tested positive.

I was bedbound for the first day, too sick to really think about anything other than getting rest, I spent a lot of it rewatching the Sopranos, fading in between consciousness. Quinn brought meals to my bed and was really sweet about not disturbing my peace too much. She checked on me occasionally and spoke to me about her day with her warm voice while she sat in the doorway. The next day was much of the same and I only left my room to go to the toilet. I’d gotten through two seasons of the Sopranos by the time I passed out on my second night of sickness. On the third day, Quinn popped into my room early in the morning and said she was going out for the day but if I needed anything I could just call. I was admittedly feeling slightly better so as midday rolled around, I decided to get out of bed and stretch my legs.

When I was getting changed into the crumpled clothes on my floor, I noticed my shirt felt baggier than usual and I looked myself in the mirror trying to figure out what was different, nothing exactly leapt out at me except for the heavy bags under my eyes, so I chalked it up to a lapse in memory and pulled my shorts up. Something about them felt wrong too but maybe my brain was scrambled from being sick, I was in a weird hazy sort of mood regardless. I made my way downstairs and had a can of tuna for lunch and then stationed myself on the couches in front of the TV and started surfing the channels, I was over the Sopranos at this point.

I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch because the next thing I knew, I heard the front door open and in came Quinn, her flip flops slapping at her heels. She wore jean shorts that ended where her hips flared out and showed off her long legs and a white crop top, her blonde hair in that same spiky bun. She had a disposable face mask on, only further emphasizing her bright blue eyes.

“Hey, look who’s up,” she said, taking the thing off her face and flinging it onto the kitchen counter.

“Hi.” My voice was weak since I hadn’t been doing much talking. She walked around the place opening up some of the windows. “Should I put a mask on?”

“No need for the precautions sire.” She came over to the couches and fell back on the one perpendicular to mine, she let out a long sigh and kicked her flip flops off and rested her long legs down most of the length of the couch, the bottoms of her big soles facing me.

The TV was playing the news, and they were talking about the virus, it was the general information segment they’d been playing for the last few weeks, all the usual stuff at this point, contagion was less effective after 2-3 days, make sure to wear a mask in public spaces, stay away from elderly relatives. It got a whole lot more interesting when ‘BREAKING’ crossed the screen and they announced a newly discovered strain. Colloquially dubbed as SIVID, it affected you much in the same way its predecessor did albeit with a lower infection rate, though what was most strange was the side effect, and I do have to emphasise how strange of an effect it was, after the virus ran its course, there would be a prolonged period of ‘miniaturization’ as the inflicted individual gradually lost muscle mass and height. It was in the early days of the discovery and the extents to which the virus would reduce someone wasn’t fully known, most reported cases had only been a few inches, though there were some exceptions in severe circumstances, flashing to pictures of a particularly gaunt looking man. Then warnings not to panic and talk of research being well underway. It cut back to the reporter, and she went over the standard precautions and urged citizens to avoid unnecessary travel and wear masks. Then they started to list hotspots along the eastern coast of Australia where SIVID was reported and Sydney was number one on the list. It seemed ridiculous, like something from a movie, but then again, the world works in mysterious ways.

“Oh my god Bailey, what if that’s what you have,” Quinn said.

I thought about my baggy shirt and my cheeks went hot. It couldn’t be. “Well, but, I got sick a few days ago.”

“Yeah and didn’t she just say it takes a few days before it kicks in? It’s not like it wasn’t around before they discovered it.”

“That doesn’t mean I have it.”

“But it really might.”

“I guess we’ll have to see, I don’t feel that sick anymore,” I said, but I was trying so hard to keep my cool, for some reason I felt waves of embarrassment rolling over me because of this. I was already starting to lose control around Quinn now but how could I compose myself if I was even shorter, there’d be even more of her to take up my vision. My sickness had helped me block these thoughts of Quinn but with this looming revelation they ran wild. I’d never been vain about my height since there wasn’t much to begin with, but the idea of becoming shorter than I was, even shorter compared to my little but also very big sister, terrified me in an emasculating yet exciting sort of way. I couldn’t stand it.  

“We have to measure you,” Quinn said. “Just so we can make sure.”  

“We don’t have to do anything. I’m sure we’ll realise that I’m shrinking if it comes to it.”

“What, I’ll find you on the bottom of my foot?”

An image of being plastered to Quinn’s enormous sole flashed in my mind.

“It’s not gonna make me that tiny,” I said.

“You don’t know that.” She stood up from the couch and leaned over where I was lying down. “Come on, let’s measure you.”

“We’re not measuring me.”

“We are. Get up.”

I stood my ground, or rather, laid my couch, and didn’t move.

“Do I have to force you?”

Finally, I made eye contact with her, and she smirked, and I conceded. “Fiiine.” I rolled off the couch and stood up to be eye level with her white crop top boobs. Which I had been before, I reminded myself.

“You do look a little bit shorter,” she said. “A little thin around the bones.” Her big hand enwrapped my bicep and shook me.

“Shut up.” I tried to yank it from her but she held on tight.

She giggled and let me go then prodded my shoulder with enough force to tip me off balance and I fell back on the couch, she laughed even harder.

“Do you want me to get up or not?”

Quinn rolled her eyes at me and bent over and grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet, I yelped in surprise, she spun me around with her big hands on my shoulders and as I started to protest, she pushed me toward the door to the garage. 

“Onward!” She said.

We had a two-car garage that was normally filled by Helen’s Land Cruiser and dad’s Volkswagon sedan when they weren’t at work. But now, it gave us a spacious place, concrete ground with oil stains and shelving to the side packed with old beach and camping equipment and there was a workbench where my dad had his tools and an assortment of projects and dirty rags. I stood only a little way into the garage as Quinn went and rifled through dad’s toolbox and found a tape measure and came back over to me.

“Here.” She pointed me toward one of the bare walls. “Stand here,” her hand placed itself on my shoulder and pushed me up against the wall, gently, but I felt her strength in how easily she handled me, especially when the wall met solid against my back. She bent down and lifted my foot in her huge hand and placed the end of the tape measure under it. The way she was moving around parts of my body with such little effort, like I was some rudimentary object she had to examine and was simply going through the motions. Then she stood up and up, the tape measure whirred as she rose. Her cleavage almost knocked into my chin and when her boobs jostled to a stop right in front of my face, I averted my eyes. They were so big I really had to look at the floor to get them from my sight. I had to, I felt something come over me. She held her enormous arm right next to my head as she palmed the wall and leaned in closer to confirm my height. I shrunk away from her as her massively broad body enclosed me further and there was nothing I could do as her boobs gently knocked into my face, with her being so close, every breath was tainted by the warmth of her golden skin, she’d spent the day shopping and had clearly worked up a sweat, even if faint when mixed with her floral scented perfume, from the sheer size of her it lingered in my nose. I was blushing and embarrassed and I heard Quinn titter above.

“God you’re so small,” she giggled and looked down at me, some of her blonde hair cascading onto me. “How tall do you think you are?”

“Quinn, I really don’t know.”

“Just guess.”

She was standing so close to me, and I tried to make myself as flat as possible against the wall, my senses feeling overwhelmed by her presence. I couldn’t think straight. I said the first thing that came to mind. “Maybe I’m like 170 centimeters?”

That made her burst into laughter, her hot breath against my forehead, and she palmed the wall next to me with her other hand, totally cutting off any semblance of escape. “It’s a little lower than that,” she said, and straightened up so she stood even taller, the tape measure whirred as she let go and it retracted and her palms slowly crawled up the wall as she used her arms to support her weight so she could lean even further over me, looking down at me between both her big arms, a huge predatory grin on her face. I didn’t know if she was playing into it or if she was just genuinely basking in our height difference. She was a big girl, she went to the gym a lot, she liked to stay fit, she probably liked the idea of being ‘big’ and I was only accentuating that feeling by being so impossibly short next to her. Oh my god and was I getting shorter? The thought stung me.

“Like, 165, maybe?” I said hopefully.

“One hundred, and sixty, two,” she said, grinning even wider. “I was that tall when I was twelve.”

“Yeah, right.” I was blushing so bad I couldn’t look her in the eye.

“Oh my god, have you always been this timid?”

“It’s just, it’s a little embarrassing.”

“Awww, cause you’re shorter than your lil’ sis?” Those words dripped with sarcasm.

“Yes. That.”

She laughed and stood up straight, placing her hands on her hips. Warmer this time. “Okay but, you’ve always been shorter, so why’s it so embarrassing now?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

She bit her lip. “Alright, alright. You’re a little manlet and you’re self-conscious or whatever. But you’ve really never measured yourself?”

“No, I’ve never felt the need.”

“Well now you know bucko.”

“Thank god for that.”

“Now you gotta measure me.”

“Why do I have to do that?”

“Because I want to know how tall I am, there’s a chance I’ve grown since I last measured, I’m only nineteen y’know.”

“I know that.”

She looked at me curiously. “Hmm. Do you remember when my birthday is?”

“Of course I do, it’s on the 29th of July. Do you know mine?”

“Obviously I remember yours. You’re the 12th of March. Mum forgot mine the other night.”

“Ouch,” I said.

“It’s whatever.” She held the tape measure out. “Back to the matter at hand.”

I looked up at her enormous body. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to reach.”

Quinn scanned over the garage and pointed at a stool tucked under dad’s workbench. “Use that,” she said and stepped to the side and put her back against the wall.

I grabbed the stool and waddled it over to her, it was heavier than I expected. Quinn handed me the tape measure and I kneeled down as she lifted her big foot up. It unnerved me how large her feet were, they were much longer than my hand. She placed her foot down on the end of the tape measure and I started to stand. Slowly pulling the measure up along her body, watching the numbers rise as they scaled her long and shapely legs, up her sculpted calves that doubled the width of my forearms, then to her wider and more powerful quads that were toned from hours upon hours of working out and propelling rowing boats through the strong river current. The numbers went up and up and as I went past her hips, 121, 122, 123. Her butt was packed into her denim shorts and there was no room to spare as they rounded out the back, squashed against the garage wall, having my arms so directly compared to these thick parts of her body made me realise how much pure mass she had on me and I silently prayed she wouldn’t make us compare weights next. I stood on the stool and continued pulling the tape higher, past her softly defined abs, then painstakingly past my own height of 162cm scaling along the enormous swell of her breasts as they pulled her crop top down with their weight to reveal a healthy line of cleavage. Then I arrived at her face and she was smirking at me and raised her brow as if to say, ‘get on with it’. I finished standing up straight, eye level with her forehead, I placed my hand on her head to get an accurate measurement. She was 202cm tall. I was glad my shorts were baggy because I felt my dick twitch, I internally screamed. I tried not to think about the fact she was a clean 40cm taller than me or the fact that I was closer in height to one of her legs than I was to the rest of her.

“What’s the verdict doc?”

“You’re uh, you’re 202cm tall.”

“Wow.” She giggled. “That’s a whole like, 40 centimeters on you.”

“It sure is.”

She pursed her lips in a smile, still laughing little titters out her nose as she watched my cheeks flush red.

“It must be my viking genetics.”

“Or maybe you eat too much,” I said.

“Ay!” She suddenly grabbed my torso in her big hands, and I seized up, flashbacks to her torturous tickling. “Watch it shrimp, or I might eat you next.” Then she pretended to push me off the stool, but she held onto me and giggled. “I bet I could just…”

“Hey, stop –”

Quinn cupped her forearms under my butt and there was enough space to force me into a seat and then she hauled me over her shoulder, locking my legs against her chest. I tried to kick and protest but they were locked tight and so I stared the long way down her back defeated. From this vantage point I saw how much her ass protruded from her body, a big denim shelf with pockets curved over each clearly pronounced cheek, the navy stretched tight over the round humps.

“You’re so light Bailey,” she tossed me with a flick of her shoulder and caught me in the same position and then did it again, tossing my weight in the air with such a simple movement. I yelped each time she tossed me up, and each time I felt her enormous arm wrap around my legs, the swell of her forearm pressed against the back of both of them, cupping my little butt, and I only call it little because of how genuinely small I felt up there on her shoulder. “Seriously you’re like a big teddy bear or something,” she said.

“Yes! Your point is made, please let me down.”

“Aw come on, it must be fun being up so high for a change.”

Quinn started to spin around in the garage, letting my arms and legs fly out as she picked up speed. She did another three rotations and stopped, and my head felt like it was about to burst. It only made me dizzy, and my body fell limply down her chest and back. She laughed to herself and made for the garage door.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“We’re getting your body specs my man.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see,” she said, kept walking and I could only watch as her big butt rocked up and down with each step, also feeling each thud of her foot as it jolted through my body. Quinn walked through the living room and then we were at the stairs, and she started taking them two at a time, holding the railing with one hand and me with the other. She hadn’t shown any sign of exertion, and it made me think that she must throw around heavier weights than I at the gym. Still, I felt that strange feeling again perched on her shoulder, and I closed my eyes and thought of the worst things possible to avoid spiralling out of control.

When I opened my eyes, I saw carpet below and when Quinn stopped I realized we’d arrived at the bathroom that we shared, it was between both our rooms, my room was further down the hall and hers was closer to the stairs. In she went and I immediately knew what she was planning. She grabbed my waist in both hands and lifted me off her shoulder and placed me on my feet and I had to take a second to remind myself how short I was compared to her as she once again stretched up to her full height and towered over me, the bathroom light covered by the top of her blonde bun. “Let’s see how much this lil tucker weighs.” She playfully jabbed at my side.  

“You know with all this contact, you might get sick too,” I said.

“Nah, nah, my immune system is A1 bro. I haven’t been sick in years.”

Stupid, but I believed her when I considered that she was an image of human perfection. I looked next to the toilet where the scale was, there was also a pair of pajama shorts that Quinn nudged aside with her foot. “You’re gonna laugh at how much I weigh,” I said.

“If it’s a funny weight I will. C’mere.” She turned the scale on with her big toe and tested it briefly. “Okay on you go.” Her hand enwrapped my wrist and she gently guided me onto the scale, once again acting like I couldn’t move myself. I’d noticed she’d taken on this de facto leader role when we were together now and I found myself following along willingly, unable to put up much of a fight.

I stepped onto the scale and watched as the number shot to 52, flashing between 51 and 50 and then settling on 49kg. I looked up and over my shoulder and Quinn’s mouth was covered by her hand as she held back laughter.

“I’m a skinny guy what do you want me to say?”

“That’s just really cute,” she said. “I can cable row more than that.”

“Congratulations.”

She ruffled my hair in her huge hand, her fingers extending halfway down the back of my skull as she palmed it. It seemed like Quinn was resorting to physically asserting herself more so than I could remember. Even as kids she’d never lorded herself over me like this, not so directly at least. “Now move aside pipsqueak.”

The name calling too.

Quinn stepped her big feet onto the scale, unlike my feet that fit neatly onto the rubber pad, hers covered it lengthways. The plastic scale whined a bit as she settled her weight down and I watched wide-eyed as the numbers shot into the triple digits, wavering between 103 and 102. They stopped at 102kg.

“Fucking hell I’m heavy,” she said and pat her stomach. “My coach would be so mad if he saw that.”

The scale gave Quinn a small boost in height and I hardly had to lower my gaze to take in her huge bubble butt atop those pillar-like thighs. She was thinner up top, excluding her boobs, so most of her weight seemed gathered on those plump thighs that hid their muscle behind a deceptive layer of girlish skin, and god her ass just ballooned outward it’d spill out of my hands if I tried to grab it. What in the world was I thinking. It was no wonder she outweighed me by so much, there was no part of me I could compare to her legs and butt except the lot of me. And while yes, I was ‘much’ taller than her legs, I was no match for her actual height and so it was only natural that I compared myself to her legs since we seemed an easier comparison. She stepped off the scale and her butt wobbled gently. I gulped.

“Have I left you speechless?” She said, turning around.

“I’m still processing it I think.”

“Normally I’m supposed to be 90 for the boat but,” she patted her stomach, “I’m not training as much as I should be these days. Whoops.”

Ninety whole kilograms, she said it like it was nothing. I saw what she meant though. Quinn’s body was tall and long-limbed, and when I thought back to the photos of her in her rowing zootie, she was lean and lithe like an athlete at the peak of their performance, but since the virus hit and her training halted, she’d continued to eat at the same volume as before and those extra twelve kilograms had been distributed over her body, the weight gathered on her already strong arms to make them burlier, her boobs hung above her stomach which had similarly packed on that soft weight around her ironclad abs giving her torso this wide, barrel-like poise. And it all widened out at her hips, most likely where most of the weight went in the first place and in Quinn’s lack of training her ass only grew fatter and her thighs only grew plumper. God, she was one huge girl.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” She said.

I’d been staring and sheepishly looked away. I’d overstayed my welcome; I couldn’t control myself. There was just too much of her to see. Something was so wrong with me. “Sorry, um.” I shook my head. “I don’t know, I spaced out. But um, are we done here? Cause I’m kinda tired.”

“No seriously, why have you been acting so weird since you got back.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Yes you have,” she said and took a step closer to me, her voice didn’t rise but it was louder than mine and echoed slightly in the bathroom. “You’re acting like you’re scared of me.”

“You’re the one who wanted to measure me so badly and you keep pushing me around. That’s what’s weird!” Deflect. Deflect. Deflect.

“What’s so weird about that? I get body measurements all the time for rowing.”

“And what about that SIVID stuff? You didn’t even let me think about it you just pulled me along and started doing whatever you wanted to do. What if I actually have it? Do you feel better rubbing in the fact that I’m short as fuck Quinn? Like I get it, I’m a really short guy, wow that’s so funny, I’ve never heard that before. Jesus it’s like, just gimme some space, fucking please.” At this point she’d taken another step toward me and instinctively I stepped back, and she took another step, her big foot slapping down in front of mine, I stepped back again. She kept advancing, our feet moving in tandem as I shuffled backward and I smacked right into the bathroom wall and she didn’t stop until she was standing right in front of me, sneering down at me over her bust which jiggled right in front of my face, the cold tiles on my back a stark contrast to the heat radiating off her.

“That’s not how you respond to a question.”

I couldn’t even stammer a reply and I was so overwhelmed with her so close, exuding her authority as she totally outsized me, boxing me in against the wall, and the added layer of her scolding made me realise I was actually a tiny bit scared of Quinn. I’d never been so scared of her before.

“You keep getting these glazed over eyes when you look at me.”

“It’s just weird,” I squeaked out, my head was fully leaned back against the wall to make eye contact with her.

She only stared at me, letting her big boobs hang right there, expanding slowly with each massive draw of breath, and then a gust that I felt on my forehead as she exhaled, like she was worked up and thinking of what to do with me while she calmed down. Her massive thigh then pressed into my groin and my dick responded without missing a beat. It pulsed into the hefty part of her thigh and she held me there for a moment, plastered to the tiled wall by her massive thigh as it spread over my pelvis. I gasped because it was a moment of utter bliss. My cheeks went a bright, bright red, and Quinn and I locked eyes. Hers narrowed until I knew that she knew and I knew she knew because she pressed me even harder against the wall and my cock was rock hard against my stomach, suffocated in the meat of her thigh. I was about to bust then and there, even the subtlest movement of her thigh massaged my dick, and she very slightly shifted my body side to side against the wall, levering me with her enormous leg, not once breaking our eye contact. I was breathing heavily through my nose trying to fight it.

“Quinn please you gotta stop,” I said in this desperate tone that spilled out of me all at once.

So she let me go and we stood there staring at each other for another moment, panting, her lips pursed together and her eyes were wide in an emotion I couldn’t place. Her tongue poked her cheek and she shook her head. I darted to the bathroom door and into the corridor and started running toward my room. I opened then slammed the door shut and leapt into bed and buried myself beneath the covers. I was sick. So, so sick. It was one thing to spend a night fantasizing about Quinn, but it was a whole other thing to let her get me off. That face she made, was there some sense of satisfaction hidden in there? Did I see the corner of her lip curl upward ever so slightly? Or am I imagining it because I’m some sick freak who wants to fuck his sister. I palmed my eyes, defeated by this mental anguish. How was I supposed to go on living with Quinn, how could I even face her after what just happened in the bathroom. She definitely felt it, my cock stiff against her thigh, the thought made me immediately hard.

The dam had well and truly overflowed at this point, I may have had enough willpower to remove myself from the situation, but I did not have enough to stop the horny thoughts as they consumed my mind.

I made a pact with myself, these little fantasies were for me myself and I and I would channel my frustrations through them. However, I was never to act on an impulse again, and I’d have to put the foot down with Quinn. I couldn’t let her walk over me like that, it was far too dangerous. For both of us. And with that I let myself get lost in the thought of her.

Naturally, I didn’t have dinner with my family that night. My sickness was enough of an excuse. That and the terrible affliction of Quinn. I came to some alarming thoughts before I fell asleep in an overdose of lust. At a grand temple by the beach. Serving her feet, making my way up her legs planting soft touches on her golden sun-kissed thighs. Her giant nude body laid on its side, an arm draped coquettishly over the range of her hips, a tug on my neck and the tinkle of chain as she pulls me into her warm and massive embrace.

In the morning, I drowsily scrolled the reddit app on my phone. I stumbled across a post that was discussing the etymology of the word masochism, for reasons unknown it piqued my interest. I’ll try to keep this brief for those uninformed. The word derives itself from the Austrian writer Leopold Ritter von Sacher-Masoch, coined by another contemporary of his as the term that refers to one getting off on getting put down, a described ‘psychosexual’ disorder that requires one to experience pain and/or humiliation to achieve erotic release. Masoch did not approve of this use of his name. It must’ve been so embarrassing. Regardless, it was coined for reason, Masoch wrote at length about the satisfaction he gained from being put in his place by domineering women, specifically and especially those already in a positions of power, baronesses, queens, ladies of the land. His most notable work is the 1870 novella Venus in Furs which heavily delves into themes of female domination and sadomasochism with characters heavily inspired from Masoch’s own life and self-indulgent description of beautifully cruel women, lounging in royal furs. When I realised that it was essentially erotica from the 19th century, I became even more curious. I found a free copy on Project Gutenberg and read it for a few hours.

I didn’t finish it because my attention span is dull and rotted away by the internet, but it got me thinking. Mostly a vision of a regal woman, of course my mind inserted Quinn, lounged in an armchair before an ornate fireplace, her reflection illumed by crackling red flames, dancing over her stony expression and from time to time over her feet when she sought to warm them, the rest of her statuesque body bundled in a large brown fur, large enough to cover me entirely and catch me like a net. She’d have her chin lazily draped in her palm, some strands of ghostly white hair fallen beside her gracious face, regarding me with an air similar to how one might view a household pet. A silent challenge when we make eyes, her daring my faith but I’m unwavering in the belief that I’m beneath her. That’s why I’m knelt beside her, and if I’m lucky, she’ll let me lay my head in her lap so I sink into that deliciously soft blanket of fur warmed by her covered thighs, and her hand might come and scratch behind my ear and I’d nuzzle myself further into that furry world, letting the material play about my face and nose and feeling the magnificence of such a woman as I envelop myself in her, pressed to her legs as they curl off the armchair.

A day passed where I didn’t see Quinn and I stayed bunkered down in my room. I was so naïve. I thought I’d be able to separate these fantasies from reality. But I let them simmer and now my thoughts were thoroughly marinated.

I’d only snuck out twice in the dead of the night to pee, but as the next day wore on, I felt brave enough to venture out and by the time I left my room it was 1pm. If I ran into Quinn I’d act natural. I wouldn’t imagine her as a queen who has me chained to a leash or anything totally ridiculous like that. We’d chat about her day and everything would be normal, then I’d tell her that we need to talk about the other day and I’d tell her that what happened can never happen again and she needs to respect that. Even though I was the one caught staring. She said I was acting weird but she was also acting weird. Things had been awkward between us.

I stood by the sink looking out the window to the yard thinking about what I’d say to Quinn, and then I saw her open the front gate and my heart skipped a beat. She wore grey activewear and her hair was tied in a slick ponytail. I could tell from how flushed her face was and the sweat drenched underneath her boobs that she’d just returned from a run. It was a hot day out. She saw me looking through the window so I waved but she didn’t wave back. I clenched the edge of the sink and waited, my train of thought totally derailed. I was doing the dishes. That’s what I was doing.

The front door swung open and I heard Quinn’s heavy footsteps enter the foyer as she kicked off her shoes and walked into the kitchen, her socks slapping on the floorboards. I went to say hello and saw she had Airpods in.

She didn’t even look at me.

Quinn went straight by me, her shoulder soared above and left a great wake of BO in its stead. She opened the fridge blocking most of her from view except the crown of her head and her huge arm that rested along the side of the fridge door, she drummed her fingers on top.

I realised I’d been holding my breath the entire time and let out a deep sigh. I grabbed a plate stained with tomato sauce and a sponge, continuing to watch Quinn out of the corner of my eye, darting back to my duty when she shut the fridge. She held Tupperware with leftover pasta and the water jug which she placed on the marble island. Her ass looked incredibly tight in her grey spandex, both cheeks wobbled with her movement. Off she went to put the pasta in the microwave and it beeped and began to hum nicely, the whole time tinny music blasted from her earphones. I felt her footsteps thud around the kitchen until they settled somewhere behind, the splash of pouring water and some greedy gulping, then a slight grunt as I assumed she sat herself on the counter right behind me.

I tried my best to focus on the dishes, I cleaned another plate and some glasses and two forks and a knife. The microwave hummed and Quinn started to hum too along with her music.

“Red wine supernooova.” She sung it quietly to herself.

There was a palpable tension in the air, she was clearly ignoring me on purpose and it threw my whole plan off. I was expecting the usual bubbly Quinn to greet me and then I’d lead us into a hard but necessary conversation but perhaps I’d failed to acknowledge how the other night might’ve affected her too. Obviously it had, we hadn’t spoken to each other since. Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe I was self-absorbed.

I opened the dishwasher and started to load the rinsed plates and cutlery inside. When I finished and turned around, Quinn was swinging her legs off the counter, still humming and very nearly touching the floor thanks to the incredible length of her legs, she scrolled on her phone until she wasn’t and for the first time since the incident we made eyes.

“Hi,” I said and waved sheepishly.

The music paused and she regarded me for a moment. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” she said.

“Yeah, well.” I could only shrug in response. “Sorry.”

“Why are you so scared of me?”

“I’m not scared of you Quinn.”

“Ah huh.” She looked back at her phone.

“What?”

“You’re such a liar.”

“I’m literally not.” I only needed to address the elephant in the room but she was right. She was being too direct and I was too scared.

The microwave beeped to signal it was done and Quinn hopped off the counter, leaving a wide sweaty stain from her butt. There wasn’t heaps of space between the sink and the island so when she hopped off, she towered above me in that close proximity and my head was level with her hulking chest constrained by her sports bra and I was swimming in the post-run funk that suffused itself in the damp grey spandex beneath the swell of her boobs, and deep down I knew that they were slightly higher than I was used to and the threat of SIVID which I’d tried so hard to ignore came crashing down on me. She loomed over me for a second as if to confirm to herself that she was right and that I was scared of her. Satisfied with the way I was staring up at her, wide-eyed and nervous, she went to retrieve her freshly warmed pasta.

“If you have something you want to say to me, you should go ahead and say it,” she said, shutting the microwave door.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Really?” She walked right up to me, taller with each step closer until she was stationed before me again, the smell of her sweat mixing with the rich red pasta sauce, creating a dizzying effect. “Because it really seems like you do.”

I just shook my head.

“Whatever bro,” she said and left me to go eat in her room.

I was standing there reeling from that conversation, she was obviously onto me. In fact, she seemed quite mad with me which I thought was a little unfair. She was the one who pressed her thigh into me. It was playful sure, but it’s not something you would do with your sibling, especially as adults, right? Or was I wrong to take casual playfighting as something more. I opened the fridge and grabbed my own bit of left over pasta and as I put it in the microwave, I came to the conclusion that I was being delusional and perverted.

I didn’t want to ruin my relationship with Quinn, truly, I loved spending time with her, our interests aligned in everything and we could talk for hours about the things we liked, or find something to talk about when there was nothing else to say, there was one holiday where we got really into playing this alphabet animal game where you have to name as many animals that start with the same letter as you can and we got so good at it that it would take us three hours to get from A-Z, and she was funny too and I’d always thought her mind worked in such interesting ways and I respected her tenacity and ambition greatly and I simply felt like I knew her so well, and so while I deeply loved the essence of who Quinn was as a person, to see her grown up and blown in proportion to such an extent was overwhelming, yes she was taller than me in the past but we were also innocent children, and so now that she was a grown woman, filled out all over with a powerful but feminine grace to her curves, I cannot overstate how much of an impact her physical presence had on me. She was not only tall; she was absolutely enormous. After we’d measured ourselves I found myself comparing her height to many other famous athletes, she was almost the same height as Lebron James for god sake, and she was taller than Kobe, Jordan, and only a few inches shy of Shaq, it really put things into perspective. I truly felt that every time I’d interacted with her since I got back, having to crane my neck to talk to her, making me feel like a child again. And I was getting shorter wasn’t I, there was no point in denying it now. Everything about her was so much larger when compared to me and my sick brain wouldn’t stop thinking about how easily she could toss me around and a part of me wondered if maybe she’d been thinking the same thing. It was these conflicting thoughts making our time together torturous and it was like we couldn’t communicate like we used to, like we were strangers all of a sudden. I didn’t know how to handle it at all. There was no one I could ask for help. This was between me and Quinn and us alone. What would our parents think if they ever found out?

I retired to my room shortly after with warm pasta and distracted myself with some YouTube at my desk. I spent the afternoon sorting out my books for the upcoming semester and preparing my notes for lectures. It was going to be a brutal semester with lots of anatomy and sports theory. It was monotonous enough that when paired with some Oncle Jazz it helped me clear my thoughts of Quinn and our dangerous predicament. I was once again choosing to ignore the prospect of having SIVID, even though it seemed highly and incredibly likely that I had it.

The night rolled around and soon there was a knock on my door and dad’s voice on the other side telling me dinner was ready. It’d been long enough that my sickness was no longer a reason to avoid dinner and I was barely even sick anymore, at least in the traditional sense of the word, so down I went. I greeted Helen and sat across from Quinn like usual, dad to my side. We were having pork roast and I filled my plate with two slices of pork and some potatoes and then Quinn practically tripled the amount I had on her plate and poured gravy over that hill of food. Helen and dad were talking about work while Quinn and I silently ate, not once giving each other a moment of attention. Our parents would do this sometimes where they would talk and talk about whatever boring things they were stressed about and no one else could get a word in. It was welcome now though as I tried to hurry through my dinner, Quinn was too, and at a quick glance, she made much shorter work of her food. At one point I caught her staring at me, but we both quickly looked down at our plates.

We were almost done when Helen said, “You two are being awfully quiet.”

“Had a long day.” Quinn smiled at her, wiping some gravy from her chin. “I went for a mountain run this morning.”

Helen nodded, satisfied with the answer and looked to me. “And what about you Bailey?” She liked to make sure we weren’t being lazy.

“Not much, I’ve been recovering. Getting ready for Uni and all that.”

“Right, that’s good.” It seemed like Helen was going to say more but then Quinn spoke up.

“So you do physio right?”

“Yeah…” I said, unsure why she was asking.

“You must be pretty good at massages then.”

She was challenging me; I could see it in her eyes. “I’m alright.”

“I just wonder how good of a massage you’d be able to give with such small hands.”

“Well it’s more about the techniques you use and the pressure you put in but I wouldn’t expect you to get it.”

She snorted at that. “But what if you were so small I couldn’t even feel it?”

“What on earth are you talking about Quinn,” said Helen.

“Haven’t you guys seen the news?” She said to our parents. “SIVID? Hello? Bailey clearly has it.”

I couldn’t believe she was airing me out like this. My cheeks went red and I didn’t look to my left to see what dad or Helen thought of that. I was shorter and there was no doubt about it, and it really did beg the question. How did dad or Helen not realise?

“Really son?” Dad grabbed my shoulder.

“I thought that was all a load of crap,” said Helen.

“It was on the news mum.”

“And the last time I watched the news that Greens idiot was saying we need rental caps.”

“It’s obviously real, look at him,” Quinn said.

“I mean, really? Is Bailey really getting shorter?”

“I’m not,” I interjected.

“You literally are!” Quinn rose from her seat a little, pointing an accusatory finger. “Get up.”

I tried to protest but she cut me off.

“No, shut up, stand up. You too David.”

Neither dad or I had much of a say and our chairs screeched back as we stood. For most of my adult life I had been the same height or slightly taller than my dad but there was no denying it now as I was clearly shorter than him. Not by a long shot but to a noticeable degree. He looked at me with narrow eyes and a slight frown, creasing his wrinkles. “That’s no good,” he said.

“See!” Quinn practically shouted. “Bailey used to be taller than David. I swear it.”

“I just can’t believe it,” Helen said and then she too rose from the table and like Quinn her presence was an alarmingly large one. She rose over my dad’s shoulder and pulled him away so she could get a good look at me, crossing her arms as she looked over her sharp nose, her bust was right in my face and her nipples showed through her blouse. “Gee. He does look especially short doesn’t he?”

I felt incredibly embarrassed being analysed like this and being talked about like I wasn’t even there, and the reality of it started to sink in. It was like when I’d first met Helen as a twelve-year-old, shyly standing by my father unable to look her in the eye. “They said they’re looking for a cure.”

“I read an article yesterday that said some cases have started to report losses of three to four feet,” said Quinn.

“Well it doesn’t seem like he’s lost that much of his height,” Helen said.

I looked desperately at Quinn and she was seated at the table with her arms crossed and where I expected a smug expression was actually one of worry.

Helen’s finger curled beneath her nose as she thought about something. She clicked her tongue. “Though I have some news you might not like to hear. Suppose now is as good a time as any.”

“I was thinking the same thing hon,” dad said, he touched her back. “Let’s sit down, hey?”

“And what’s this?” I said. I was very confused and feeling very overwhelmed and flustered.

We all took our seats back at the table, the overhead lights illumed above us sharp and orange like an interrogation room. Or at least it felt that way to me. “It’s unfortunate timing if anything,” Helen said.

“What’s this bad news?”

Dad took a long breath. “Well. You see son, we were planning on telling you soon, but, uh, your mother and I were planning on moving to Oman for a few months, or at least until all these lockdowns start to ease up.”

“Oman!?” I said.

“And I can appreciate that’s a big change, and well, especially with this.” He gestured to me vaguely implying my condition. “But it’s something we’ve been planning for a while, even before you moved back home, you know the lockdowns have made work a bit of a nightmare, all the extra planning and precautions have taken a bit of a toll. So we’re moving online. But uh, you’re welcome to come with us,” he looked to Helen like he was looking for permission and continued, “but, I’m not sure if it’d be the best place for you to experience you’re uh, how do I put this, reduction. I’m sure you understand, right son?”

“I don’t really but go on.”

“Well, think of it like this, you and Quinn can have the house to yourselves for however long you want, you know as long as you keep it in good nick, it might even be fun, you’re both adults now. It’ll give you a taste of owning a property. Give you something to work towards, huh lazybones?” He clapped me gently on the back with a laugh.

I didn’t care about owning property. I hate the fact that people like my dad and Helen viewed property as a commodity not a necessity. I was beginning to boil with rage at his words and the way they didn’t seem to care in the slightest about my situation.

“And Oman is such a gorgeous country, the people, the food, ah,” Helen said, placing her elbows on the table with her hands clasped together.  “The place we have there overlooks the coastline and it’s just to die for.”

I looked to Quinn and she was still sitting with her arms crossed, her lips pursed and jaw clenched.

“Well it’s not the end of the world is it,” Helen said, looking between me and Quinn. “Besides you don’t seem so sick anymore Bailey, you might’ve already lost all there is to lose.”

“Tell him when you’re leaving,” Quinn said.

“In about a week’s time,” said dad.

In a week’s time it would be the 9th of March and Helen and dad would be gone before my birthday on the 12th. I’m not a big birthday guy, I don’t need a huge celebration and prefer to keep it intimate but combined with their total lapse of memory regarding it and their lackadaisical attitude pertaining to me and how their supposed holiday had apparently surpassed any concern for my wellbeing and combined with the revelation that I would be alone with Quinn in our house, not all bad in the scheme of things but with the current situation and all these things together it brewed in the cauldron of my stomach and made me sick.

I excused myself unable to take much more of this humiliating conversation and Helen made a big deal of it like I was being unreasonable and spitting the dummy at the two of them but thankfully my dad told her to stop and I walked upstairs in silence. The rest of them broke into hushed discussion when I was out of earshot, though from what I could tell it was mostly Helen and Quinn arguing back and forth. Any other time I might stay and eavesdrop but I wanted to forget about it all and retreated to my room and got as far under the covers as possible.

*

It was late and I wasn’t able to sleep. I sat in bed with my bedside lamp on reading Cormac McCarthy’s Child of God. Some light-hearted bedtime reading. The scene followed Lester Ballard in a dump yard as he met the incestuous bunch that ran the place and it made me feel a little gross but grossly intrigued may be a better way to put it.

There was a knock on my door and it startled me. I heard Quinn’s voice on the other side, she spoke softly, caring and like warm honey as opposed to her usually boisterous voice.

“Can we talk?” she said.

“I’m sorry but I’m not really in the mood.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please I need some space.”

“Well can I just say something then. You don’t have to say anything.”

I didn’t respond but I put my book down.

“Ummm. Okay, well,” she began. “I just, I can’t sleep because it feels like you kind of hate me right now and I’m sorry if it’s because of the way I was acting but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me.” She sighed. “Mum and dad told me about their trip the other night and it just made me so mad y’know, like especially cause I was thinking about how you might have SIVID, which like, I don’t care if you do, and I don’t want you to get in your head about it. But like, I’m on your side Bailey, I think it’s bullshit the way they’re acting like it’s not a big deal, I mean I know I kind of brushed it off at first but the more I think about it the more worried I get, and my god I can’t believe they’re leaving before your birthday. Like genuinely, more and more I’m realising how much they barely pay attention to me and all of my achievements feel like the only time they’ll ever look at me like I’ve done anything, well I mean it’s mostly mum, your dad is supportive but he’s so like, non-existent, he is opinion is whatever hers is, what’s that Fontaine’s lyric? Never take your two cents from someone else. But with this fuckin’ lavish oo la la Oman thing and how they literally forgot your birthday, and that’s the thing! Like then I asked mum if she knew when my birthday was and she thought it was in fucking August. It’s all a load of shit man, they’re so absorbed in each other and the older they get the worse they get.”   

By this point I had moved to sit on the edge of my bed, only a pace or two away from my door, listening intently to what she had to say. I heard her lean back against the door.

“It’s just I’ve been feeling further apart from all my friends and the last two years have been really lonely and I’ve really missed you okay? And, I really want you to know that no matter what happens I’ll take care of you, okay? Even if, y’know, this SIVID thing goes the whole way and I have to carry you around in my pocket or something or like, cut up all your food into tiny pieces, but no matter what, I will keep you safe, I promise you that. I don’t want you to be afraid of me, I care about you so much and it’s been killing me that it’s felt like there’s some wall between us. At the end of the day, Mum and dad might not care so much about us but we can make up for that, right?”

I was on the verge of tears it felt like, my voice caught in my throat. There were too many things trying to come out all at once.

Quinn sighed again. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say.” She stood up and the door breathed in the frame as her weight no longer rested on it. “Night Bailey, love you.”

Her footsteps receded down the hall and I was filled with this urge to yank it open and chase after her and embrace her and tell her I loved her too. I wanted to kiss her. God I wanted to kiss her. But I was frozen stuck in my complicated feelings. 

I laid in bed pondering Quinn’s words, feeling like I messed up by not saying anything back. She’d spilled her heart to me and yet I was still worried what she might think of the truth. I considered going to her room just so I could hug her and tell her I didn’t hate her because I really didn’t and after hearing her wavering voice all I wanted to do was comfort her, but I’m selfish I suppose and my biggest reservation was that I wouldn’t be able to control myself and soon all my dirty little secrets would come to light. There was a very fine line that I felt I had to tow now.

Or did I really? The more I thought about what she’d said, the more I felt like there was an unbreakable bond between us, and that by prioritising some ridiculous code I was doing us more harm than good. I wanted us to be close and she clearly did too, but at what cost if she knew what I truly thought of her and the fact that I was dwindling down to a height much more befitting my newfound world view. My fantasies of her were one thing and she would only continue to loom larger and larger and I just knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it in. Soon I’d be eye level with her navel and six pack, and it wouldn’t be long before I’d be staring at her huge butt rocking up and down, and then I’d be dashing between her pillar-like calves, and then I’d be like a doll she could grab in her hands. She could probably suffocate me in those big mitts of hers. I loved Quinn and the thought of that made me shudder and it made my timely friend downstairs wake up too.

Maybe she was right. Never take your two cents from someone else.

And you know what? I don’t care if my dad and Helen cared more about each other than they did about me. Because I sure as hell care more about Quinn than I do about them. They’d be gone soon and we’d have the place to ourselves for an indefinite amount of time. It would be just us in this big, lonely house, so did I really care if things got a little weird? If we got a little Tasmanian with it? It’s not like I’m going to tell anybody, so maybe I should just go with the flow, see where the wind takes us. We were on the same page after all. I really did want nothing more than to spend time with her and she did too. I fell asleep thinking about the first time I saw snow with Quinn in New Zealand. Throwing a snowball at her back and then she turned her red cheeked face around, hugged by a furry parka hood. She chased after me and tackled me into the snow and we devolved into giggling, snowflakes stuck to our eyelashes. The memory made me feel so warm, bundled in my cosy sheets.

*

The next day I awoke to a strange noise. Like an enormous gale of howling wind coming through my window, that wind that whistles and sounds all ominous. But it was strange because the trees outside weren’t moving in the wind. It was a nice sunny lightly clouded day and I laid there listening to the wind as it seemingly pulsed louder then quieter, rising fast and falling slow and repeated ad nauseum. My drowse addled brain soon realised I was listening to someone on an ergo. Who else but Quinn training on the deck, and it sounded so close because the deck was directly to the right of my window.

Today was the day I’d decided. I was going to get up and talk to Quinn about what she’d said last night and who knows what else. It felt like our relationship was on the brink of broader horizons and once I said my piece, the floodgates would open. Though when I got out of bed, I realised that SIVID had taken its first proper swing at me. My yellow tee was way too baggy on my shoulders and I had to pull the drawstring tight on my shorts so they didn’t fall down. I took it in stride and left my room and went down the hall to the sliding glass door that lead to the deck.

Quinn was on the rowing machine in her old school zootie, the blue cotton with its thick mustard yellow line stitched down the side and over her hip. The zootie is a beautiful article of clothing because it leaves such little to the imagination. It hugs the body tightly so there’s no excess fabric to be caught while rowing and thinly loops the shoulders and ends not even halfway down the thigh, and whether you’re a man or a woman the crotch will always be incredibly pronounced. She was facing away from me, overlooking the view of our yard and street, her blonde hair tied into a messy bun and her butt spilled over the ergo seat and her shoulder blades came together as she leant back into her stroke. I slid the door open quietly and watched her for a while from there, I knew she wouldn’t want to be disturbed while she was in the middle of a piece.

It wasn’t often I had the chance to watch Quinn train, but when I did I was left amazed at her work ethic. Whether it was when we were younger and I would help her train hill sprints and yell encouragement from the top of the hill as she charged toward me, bounding up the steep grassy slope, a look of determination on her face. I would get tired before she did, my voice faltering as she’d jog back down for another set. Or like now, when I watched her row, her muscles exploding in size with each stroke, a huge grunt of strength when she yanks the handle to the finish. She’d have a crazed look on her face, her tongue slightly poked between her lips, like she was focusing too hard on pushing herself to the limit, her legs slowly pulling her into the catch, tensing her body up like a giant coil until her legs snapped again and ripped the metal cord to her sternum. Her fair golden skin flushed red from the exertion, sweat turning her zootie to a dark, wet navy that lined her back and started to creep from the nethers beneath her rump glued to the seat, beads of it rolling down her neck from her soaked hair. The ergo buzzed angrily with each powerful stroke she took, and I swear the deck shuddered a bit. She picked up the tempo and her quads bulged even wider as she slammed them down and yanked the handle through and the ergo whirred enormously, with far less time between each angry breath. When she came to the finish I saw the breadth of her back, the definition in her traps, her lats spread wide, and I’m not sure if it’s because I was physically smaller now but the very sight of it filled me with what I can only describe as primal awe. With one last grunt, that sounded desperate in a way, she let go of the handle and the chain zipped back into place. She kicked her feet from the foot straps and straddled the ergo, doubled over her knees taking deep draws of breath, sweat pooled around her on the deck floor, still dripping from her face. She was the strongest person I’d ever known.

Quinn sat there for a while and it honestly felt wrong of me to interrupt her after I’d witnessed such a Herculean effort, I’d let her catch her breath. She reached beside her and grabbed her water bottle and gulped down what looked like gallons at a time. She was quite literally moaning with each gulp as she quenched her unending thirst.

“Haaaaaaa, fuck,” she said, and her head drooped one more time before she finally stood up and yanked the hair tie holding back her voluminous blonde mane that exploded over her shoulders, sweaty and free. Her whole zootie was a dark navy, totally drenched in her sweat, and her powerful arms and legs had rivulets of it in the valleys and peaks of her muscle, her white socks a shade darker. The dark blue cotton rode deep up her butt, each cheek so round and thoroughly pumped, pulling her zootie right up so it just covered the curve of them, the fabric bundled by the thickness of her thighs. She reached down to touch her toes, her hamstrings emerged in full definition up her legs and the zootie rode further up her butt as she bent over, a much darker patch of sweat lined the crack and when she straightened up her ass gobbled the taut fabric. She picked the wedgie out and let the zootie snap back against her butt, her meaty thighs rippled in response.

She took my breath away when she turned around as I was greeted with the zootie firmly adhered to her front too, every crease and crevice outlined by the skin-tight material. She was startled to see me too. But she broke into a smile and so did I. She removed her Airpods.

“Were you watching me?” She said, tilting her head.

“For a little bit, yeah.”

She pursed her lips together in this really genuine smile. We were standing a table length apart but I could tell she was so much taller than what I remembered.

“Thank you for what you said last night, by the way,” I said. “You almost made me fucking cry.”

She sniffed and burst into a mixture of tears and laughter and bound toward me and I didn’t have time to process it before my feet left the ground and she had me bundled up in her huge arms, squashed flat against the sopping wet zootie material stretched over her bust, the softness of it enveloped my torso and she held me there with my head on her wet shoulder and she cried into me. I could feel the heavy thump of her heart still racing from her ergo performance.

“You don’t hate me,” she said between sobs.

“The thought never crossed my mind,” I managed, squeezed by her loving arms.

“I don’t even care, I just wanna talk to youuuuu,” she said with another sob.

I couldn’t tell if I had any tears cause my face was wet with her sweat, the warm heady stench of her was a magnificent thing when imprinted so deeply onto me. I bet I looked wild with my curly bed hair.

“I love you Quinn but you’re really sweaty.”

She growled in this cute way and gave me one last squeeze and dropped me to my feet, far down until I was staring above where the top of her abs showed through the zootie. I stepped back with a stifled gasp, having to look over the protruding swell of her chest to make eye contact with her, the fabric beneath her boobs was a dark shade compared to the fabric on top. The width of her hips outsized me twofold it felt like. A wry smirk started to creep on her face as she wiped away her tears.

She grabbed my shoulders, her hands covering them entirely. “I don’t care how small you get I’ll love you forever.”

I looked deeply into her sky-blue eyes, piercing down at me from the heavens. She had no idea what those words did to me but I felt there were still things that needed to be cleared up.

“Why don’t we talk over breakfast?”

“Yes, brilliant idea.” She pat my shoulder and with an excited pep to her step slid open the glass door and beckoned me to follow. She skipped down the carpeted hall, her ponytail swaying side to side, singing to herself. She spun right at the top of the stairs to face me and pointed at me. “I’m gonna make you my famous scrambled eggs.”

I couldn’t help but be infected by her energy and we raced downstairs to the kitchen where she commenced in cooking the aforementioned eggs, scrambling around to find the right pan and gathering an assortment of spices and a carton of eggs, I was in charge of the music and I decided to play her the latest Geese album 3D Country. I sat at a stool behind the marble island, watching her swan her hips to the music, manically whisking the eggs in a bowl by the stove, she was grinning like such an idiot and even though it was a mundane morning, with our parents gone at work like so many mornings before, it felt like days gone by and I was having the time of my life and grinned like an idiot too. The window framing Quinn’s dancing form showed the sunlit lawn and the white lily pillie’s growing on the hedge and it was such a beautiful day out and the light hit her face and made her blue eyes gleam like gems and she was so happy and I was just thinking about how I never wanted to lose this and if I told her the truth would we ever be able to return to where we once were and then the chorus of the song I See Myself hit and I guess I’d been repressing my emotions because I felt a tear well up and roll down my cheek. Because it was true, I saw myself in her, and I never wanted to lose that.

Quinn saw me sitting there trying to hold back tears and put the bowl down and rushed over to me and consumed me in a warm, sweaty hug. Running her large hands through my hair, roughed by callouses but it was nice as they scratched my scalp.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” she said.

I took a shaky breath. “I missed you so much Quinn.”

“Nawwwww.” She hugged me even harder. “You can tell me anything, you know that right?”

“I know,” I sniffed. “I know.”

We stayed there in each other’s embrace for some time, letting the song play out as her hair pressed against my face, her hand caressed around my neck.

“Argh. You’re so cute,” she released me from her hold, sniffling herself. “But come on, enough moping. Put some toast on and get the avo ready. I’m a hungry gal.”

I chuckled. “Yes ma’am.”

The rest of the morning was lovely and we danced together and banged our heads at the riffs and Quinn scrambled her eggs and I mixed scooped avocado in a bowl and mashed it with my fork with a dash of salt, pepper and lemon. We sat at the table with our food, hers a much larger mound of golden eggs with pepper sprinkled through, the eggs were incredibly soft and creamy and had a slight spice to them, they melted in my mouth. Our first order of business was bitching about our parents, I told her how I’d noticed how absorbed they were in each other in the past but maybe I didn’t realise the extent to which they were. Then she told me two stories, both happened a little over a year ago. The first was after Quinn came second at Head of the River, and even though it wasn’t the win they had trained so hard for, they’d come painstakingly close against the elite imported rowers from their rival school and only lost by a canvas, she and all her crewmates were ecstatic as they came back to shore, slapping the water as the school crowd cheered for them, hailing them as underdog heroes. Once out of the boat, Quinn splashed toward her friends and they all had a massive group hug. I couldn’t help smiling as she recounted it to me. Afterward though, when they were driving home from the dam, Quinn was in the back excitedly going on about the race with her best friend, who was also the cox of the boat, and all of a sudden Helen cut in and said, “Well it’s no gold, is it girls?” Before brushing it off with a laugh.

“She’s so spiteful,” I said while shaking my head.

“It doesn’t even bother me though.”

“Why not?”

Quinn raised her hand to her mouth like she was whispering a secret. “Because the best she ever placed was fourth.”

The second story was a disturbingly hilarious one. Quinn and Helen’s iCloud had been linked for years and had always been a pain point between the two of them, whether it was flooding the other with unwanted photos and apps or accidentally deleting something that the other needed. There were many a times where Helen would berate Quinn for still being linked to it and she’d promise to change but she never did. Karma’s never been known for her aptness. So there was one evening where Quinn was laying in her bed, scrolling on her phone and she received a text message from dad. ‘They look incredible.’ It said. Quinn opened it and the chat loaded and she was met with her mother’s bare breasts.

“EW!” I shouted.

Quinn had this mortified look on her face. “I fucking KNOW.”

We quickly changed topic after laughing way too hard about it. And eventually we came to the conclusion that we didn’t care that they were leaving and that we would have the best time without them and Quinn promised we’d make my birthday special and it felt good to feel like no matter what was said we would be in agreeance. Obviously I still had a lot to admit to but I liked the pace at which the day was going and I didn’t want to rush things. There would be a right time. There always is.

Quinn decided that we should have a movie marathon and insisted she pick the first one because I picked last time. I thought we were going to watch on the TV downstairs but she suggested that we watch in her room and well, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d watched a movie together in bed but how could I say no.

“You need to shower first,” I said.

“Oh what, am I too stinky for you?”

“Yeah you smell like fuckin’ shit.”

“Oh reeeally?” She stood up from the table, snaking her back like a stretching cat, her palms lingering on the table as she started to make her way around it.

“No Quinn. Wait, no. Don’t you dare.” I stood up with a clumsy haste and put her opposite me.

She gripped the corners of the table in her long wingspan, grinning devilishly at me, she feigned both ways, tempting me to break into a sprint.

“I’ll never speak to you again,” I threatened.

“That’s not funny,” she said.

“I’m not trying to be funny; I’m trying to survive.”

“Hmmm.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.”

Honestly I was. There was no possible way I could escape her even if I wanted to. She’d be upon me in seconds.

Quinn lead us upstairs to her room and shamefully, I decided to watch her butt the whole way up, how her zootie contorted and stretched with the heft of each cheek bobbing up and down to her steps, a line of sweat through the crack. This was her oldest training zootie and the hem around her thighs looked frayed and spread thin, beaten by sea salt and constantly under pressure from the growing girl within, when she first got this zootie it hung loosely around the chest and thighs and now it was tight enough that her thighs bulged noticeably when they met fabric. I tried not to breathe through my nose but when I did, I was smacked with the pungent smell of swampy ass which I tried to breathe out quickly through my nose and held my breath the rest of the way up.

The door to her bedroom had a ‘Q’ screwed on the front. It’d been a while since I’d been in her room, though we used to organise little playdates a lot when we were younger, it had that familiar stale smell of her. The curtains were drawn open and illumed the walls of her room in a midday light, they were covered with rowing paraphernalia, the elusive golden zootie was framed proudly above her bed, our school’s crest embroidered over the chest, given exclusively to those who rowed in the 1st VIII boat, and there were plenty of other framed photographs of Quinn and her crew training in what looked like beautiful stretches of nature, the sleek whiteness of their boat cutting through the water and reflected off the glassy surface. Or there was a photo of the nine of them lined up, standing on the third-place podium position showing off their bronze medal from nationals (arguably more impressive than the second place at Head of the River Quinn added, they beat their rivals in a rematch and had a faster race time by 3 seconds, 6:38.59 for those interested). It was actually really cool to look at all these photos and really made me view her as more of a professional athlete than some schoolkid prodigy and compared to the rest of her crew, who were beasts in their own right, Quinn was clearly the biggest and from what I gathered was very much the leader and voice of reason for the boat. As sappy as it is, it made me proud of her.

The rest of the room fit the Quinn I knew, her walk-in closet concealed a shadowed wasteland of clothes, a pair of sports shoes laid by the half-closed door, the desk in the corner was neat and the bookshelves above were filled with literature I’d recommended to her over the years, she’d formed her own tastes eventually of course. Her bedsheets were a sage green and the duvet had a lacey exterior that was quite soft to sit on, there were a bunch of stuffed plushies by the pillows.

Quinn disappeared into her closet and the light flicked on.

“Have you seen Lady Bird?” She said.

“That’s the one with Saoirse Ronan?”

“And Timmy!”

“I haven’t seen it, no.”

Her head appeared from the door, beaming. “That’s what we’re watching then.”

She scrounged around in there for a while before she came out with some clothes to change into. Sitting on the bed she really towered over me and I was eye level with her waist, my toes dangled and barely touched the floor while sitting on her high bed. “Alright, I’ll only be a sec,” she said, hooking her fingers into the back of her socks and peeling them off one at a time. “Au revoir!” She tossed her long, sweaty socks at me and shut the door as she left for the shower.

I yelped a little as one hit my face and fell in my lap. They were still warm and damp from her post-workout feet and I hesitantly picked it up, gradually unspooling and it was embarrassing to realise one of her socks was almost as long as my arm. Of course it stunk, the thick white cotton marinated in the salty vinegar worked up from her feet. I don’t know why but I leaned forward to sniff it and the earthy aroma stunk so intensely of Quinn I threw the sock away, and flicked it’s twin off the bed.

I laid back and went on my phone while she had her shower. Trying not to think about the fact she’d thrown her socks at me, I scratched my nose at one point and I could still smell her feet on my finger. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant smell but there was something about how deeply ingrained the smell of Quinn was in me, the smell of the mango body wash she used, or the very particular brand of detergent we used to wash our clothes, or just the general scent of her, the pheromones that poured from her soft skin, reminding me of my childhood and shared bedrooms. I grabbed one of her damp socks again and found the grey part where her toes and big ball of her foot were highlighted and pressed it to my nose, almost a squelch as I bunched the cotton under my nostrils. It stunk of her, the dirty, grimy part of her that only existed on the bottom of her feet, in the confines of her shoes on a hot day. Sickly sour but intoxicating all the same.

It made me shudder but I put the sock down because it felt a step too far.

Eventually, I heard Quinn’s footsteps thumping back down the hall and in she came. She was dressed in a small white crop top, her defined stomach exposed, and short rugby shorts ridden up her thighs. She must’ve washed her hair because it was wrapped in a towel.

“Yo!” She said, pacing across the room to retrieve her laptop from her desk.

“Heya,” I said, pretending that I was more interested in my phone and that I hadn’t been doing anything suspicious.

The room was then plunged into a dim light as Quinn closed the curtains, only the faint presence of light seeping around the edges. She turned the lamp on her desk on and came over to the bed and swiped all the plushies onto the floor and flopped her weight onto the bed, the springs groaning in response and even I got a little airtime when she landed. She fluffed up the big pillows behind her and pat the spot beside.

“C’mere,” she said and I shuffled up next to her, leaning back into the huge, cloudlike pillows. She smelled of creamy mango and our shoulders were only a touch apart. Maybe that’s a little generous. My shoulder was more in line with her elbow, her big tits ballooned directly by my head and I saw she’d decided to go without a bra, as she should in the comfort of her house. I felt like I was sinking into the enormous fluffy pillow behind me, I could see that it didn’t offer much head support to Quinn, more like it was making way for the great mass of her. Our legs ran alongside each other, though her thighs eclipsed mine and stretched far longer and her feet were upturned close to the end of the bed, her toes flexed absentmindedly as she searched for the movie on her laptop. My feet were basically half the size of hers and I moved my leg a little closer just trying to compare them better. Her big toe scrunched over the other toes and cracked them and she did the same thing with her other foot, wiggling them open, toes spread, then she’d close them again, bunching her toes tight.

“Are you staring at my feet?” Came Quinn’s voice from above my shoulder.

I looked up at her and she was grinning from ear to ear. “No, no. I was, well I was just, comparing… our feet.”

“Oh? Comparing what about them?”

I opened my mouth to respond but I shut it.

She giggled and I watched her foot wag a little. “I do have pretty big feet. And gosh, aren’t yours so itty bitty.”

I wasn’t about to tempt her further so I kept my mouth shut but that only made her laugh harder. She playfully swiped her leg to the side and grazed the length of her bare skinned thighs along my leg, her calf bumped into my foot and my skin erupted in goosebumps. She stopped and the part of my leg that was smothered by her thigh felt all spiky. She slowly rubbed her huge thigh against my leg, buttery smooth skin fresh from her shower that gently glided over my hairs stood on end.  

“Did I give you goosebumps?”

I yanked my leg away. “Just put on the fucking movie.”

Thankfully, Quinn wasn’t in such a pushy mood and she laughed it off and brought her legs together. She placed the laptop on her thighs and tilted it slightly toward me and hit play. During the movie I slowly started to lean closer and closer to Quinn, just by nature of getting comfortable for the runtime, I felt her shift a little when my shoulder and head rested along her arm. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it so I kept watching the movie but she definitely looked at me for a minute, and then adjusted her arm so my head was resting on a softer part of her bicep. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice but be drawn into her gravity somewhat, atop the bed I barely dented the duvet but Quinn’s weight caused me to naturally roll toward her.  

Lady Bird was great, Gerwig’s got a knack for the heartfelt and Saoirse kills. Quinn teared up at some points and I could only assume it had something to do with the depicted mother-daughter relationship. I rubbed my hand on her arm to comfort her, we were in an emotional swing state. But ultimately it was a sweet movie and I was glad she’d shown me. Next, I decided to show her No Country for Old Men. Quinn moved the laptop into the space between us and turned on her side, her head propped on her arm and the other draped over the curve of her hip. The warmth of her skin lingered on my cheek and side when she pulled away. We were locked in for the movie, some pieces of cinema require the concentration. Quinn kept glancing at me with her mouth agape, the coin toss scene, Llewelyn’s close call with Anton Chigurh at the motel, and another at the hotel, the shootout in the street, all of it. How good is it to show someone you love one of your favourite movies. She watched Tommy Lee Jones give the final monologue with bated breath; a pin drop could be heard. When the credits rolled she turned to me.

“I feel like I just watched something important,” she said and I told her she did.

I could go on for hours about my literary hero McCarthy but for brevity’s sake let’s leave it at this: the man was a wordsmith and a genius (RIP). I told Quinn some titbits about the making of the movie and soon we were laid on our sides next to each other in bed chatting about our favourite current actors. We were interrupted because Quinn’s stomach growled loudly.  

She rubbed her exposed belly. “Ugh, I could eat a horse.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I said.

“You need to chill it with the fat jokes shorty.”

I snickered and she shoved my head and I almost flew off the bed. A little shocked at how easily she’d thrown me.

“You know what I don’t want?”

“What?”

“Dinner with mum and dad.”

“Neither.”

It was only a quarter past five and our parents wouldn’t be home for at least another hour and we had no allegiance to them anymore so it was an easy decision. We locked up and made our way onto the street where Quinn’s car was parked and the clouds were glowing with the amber tinged sunset, she’d thrown on her blue flip-flops. As it goes with tall people, selection is often limited, whether it’s shoes, plane seats or cars, considerations must be made for their abnormally sized limbs and body. And at six foot seven, Quinn’s car was no exception, an absolute beast of a Ford Ute, one of those trucks you see hardened tradesmen driving around, but as she circled around the hood and stood tall by the driver side door, she made the truck look like a hatchback. An arctic white paintjob and a cloth-covered truck bed with a step beside the doors to aid someone like me who has to hold onto the door and grunt slightly as I step into the enormous cabin. I sat myself on the wide seat, an old gym bag and some empty plastic bottles I brushed aside to make room for my feet. She had to duck to get inside and the whole car’s suspension rocked with her weight as she stepped in and sat down, an audible whump as her butt made contact with the seat and she filled it out much more than I did.

Quinn drove us to a McDonalds we used to frequent when I first got my license, a little further out of the suburbs, we liked this particular one so much because it had a huge carpark and there were many corners tucked away by the nearby highway and large hedges, and at night it was a place we’d go if one of us had some juicy gossip that required a few hours to mull over, we’d find a nice secluded spot and chat until it was late. On our way there she played me an album she’d been obsessed with over the last couple of weeks. The Rise and Fall of the Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan. The tracks were campy and fun, it reminded me of Charli XCX but admittedly felt more fresh and self-aware. The sun finished setting as we pulled into the macca’s carpark and lined up at the drive through.

“You want a regular Quarter Pounder meal?” She asked me, remembering my order.

“Nah, go large,” I said, feeling ambitious.

“Okay big boy,” she giggled and drove up to the ordering machine. “Hey, can I get a large double Quarter Pounder meal with a coke no sugar, and can I get two extra hamburgers too. Yup, and a large Quarter Pounder meal with a coke.”

I was always left amazed at how much food Quinn could eat. We collected our food and Quinn drove us to a secluded corner of the carpark where we were surrounded by hedges and the only light around was the cabin light above our heads. She pushed her seat all the way back so she could tuck one of her long legs under her and leaned back ready to dig into her food. We ate, we listened, we chatted. She was polishing off her fries when the track Red Wine Supernova came on and she squealed in delight. I’d been able to focus solely on today while I’d been with Quinn and while yes I’d been incredibly aware of the drastic difference in our height I’d managed to keep my thoughts on the straight and arrow and even Quinn herself seemed to tone back her usual teasing attitude and we’d had a day reminiscent of the past. But when she turned the volume way up and the bass shuddered all around me in this cavernous Ute cabin and she started to sing along with the song, some of the lyrics were starting to throw me off as I heard her passionately recite them.

“Put her canine teeth in the side of my neck.”

And she leaned over and tapped her two fingers into the side of my neck.

“I just want you to make a move!”

She was joking, singing along. It meant nothing.

“Fell in love with the thought of you.”

It meant nothing.

“Red wine supernovaaaa. Fall right into meeee.”

Her voice filled the car with the music and the bass thumped through my seat. She was really into it, belting the lyrics, clenching her hands and sitting up. Pointing at me occasionally and trying to dance with me, pulling these sassy and seductive poses. Her big heavy boobs swayed and bounced along with her movements, barely constrained by her short white top.

“You just told me, want me to fuck you? Baby I will cause I really want to.”

She sung, saying the first part looking me in the eyes then shutting hers and excitedly singing the last part with her head thrown back. And I kept telling myself she was only singing along, but it was pretty much impossible not to imagine exactly what she’d just said and I went red.

“So baby, let’s get freaky, get kinky. Let’s make this bed get squeaky!”

I was staring at the remaining half of my burger. Slightly nodding my head to the music but really I was trying to hide the fact I had a burgeoning erection. It really felt like she filled the other half of the car, her head almost touching the ceiling, whereas for me I felt like a child in daddy’s truck, the huge gearstick rising to my right, bobbed with her hulking weight moving the whole cabin around. And her voice was so loud and she had a nice voice but it was pulsing through me and doing things to me that had only been waiting for their time to strike.

“Oh my god I love that song so much,” she said when it ended and fell back in her seat, minorly drained from the performance. She turned the volume down slightly.

“Yeah man, it’s a banger,” I said as passively as I could.

“Sorry if this is TMI but like, it kinda, turns me on.”

I just looked at her and she burst into giggles.

“What you prude, it’s literally about that.”

“I mean yeah it’s sapphic, I guess.”

I was using my arm to cover up my crotch so she couldn’t see the growing bulge, it was a slightly awkward position, I moved my drink for more coverage.

She smirked at me with these conniving suspicious eyes and poked my arm. “Why are you sitting like that?”

Oh my god. Oh my god? Was this it? “So…” I started to say, not really knowing what was going to come next. We were totally alone in the carpark. My hand reached forward, upward and turned the music lower again so I could think straight. “You know how you thought I was scared of you?”

A knowing grin spread across her face and I can’t describe how it made me feel. “Yeah?” She said, nodding, her eyes wide and attentive.

“I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“That’s okay, take your time.”

“But I’m scared for what it means between us.”

She didn’t say anything for a bit. “Nothing you say will change how I feel about you,” she said.

I looked in her eyes and I believed her.

“Is it because you think the same thing?”

“It depends on what exactly you mean by that,” she said, curiously.

I buried my red face in my palms, my erection had died down a fair bit from how nervous I was but I felt I’d boxed myself in this conversation and there was only one way out. I was melting in front of her, feeling so puny next to her.

“Quinn I – I think that I’m in love with you,” I said.

I felt her big hand pry my palms away from my face and I looked at her, she was leaning over me a bit, trying to get closer but in a comforting way. “You’re in love with me?”

“I think so.”

“Well, what do you love about me?” She shifted in her seat, pushing her leg under her so her knee crossed the space between our chairs and almost touched my leg.

“Everything.”

She scoffed. “That’s not very specific.”

I sighed, staring at her beautiful face, our eyes twitching as we studied each other so closely, her blonde hair fallen around her shoulders. “I love your dimples. And I love your eyes, and I love how you always widen them when you want to emphasise something.” For the first time it felt like, I made her blush. “I love your heart and I love your mind too and I love how you remember the things that I tell you. And, and…” I eyed over her big voluminous body filling out the car seat. “I’ve been so off recently because now I think I’m in love with your body too.”

She let out this amused little titter. “I knew it. I knew it I knew it I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

“Those little glazed over googly eyes you kept giving me.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Bailey we aren’t even blood related. It’s not that weird to be into each other.”

“Really? Do you really think so?”

“Psh, c’mon, haven’t you seen the Royal Tenenbaums?”

“N-no. I haven’t.”

“Well that’s what we’re watching next.”

I was a little confused. “Wait but, what does that mean. You like me like that too?”

She snorted. “Bailey… Yes. I do. I think I have a for a long time, but y’know,” she mimicked my voice, “you’re my little sister.”

I didn’t know what to say. Even though maybe long ago in the past I’d had an inkling of a feeling of what it meant to be in love, I’d managed to suppress those feelings or at least bury them far beneath layers of false platonic love. I was older, I should’ve explained it better and I began to think it were very cruel of me to never once consider the toll it might’ve taken on her to hold those feelings in for so long.

“I’m… sorry,” I said.

“Hey,” she touched my shoulder. “It’s okay. Like, I get why you said that obviously.”

I just shook my head. Who decided to make her so perfect I cannot tell you.

“So what does that mean for us then?” She asked.

“I don’t know. We need to be sensible.”

“Of course.”

“I think we should just take things nice and slow, especially while mum and dad are still here. And you know, the whole SIVID thing is pretty overwhelming so I need you to respect that alright? Let's go nice and slow, okay? We don’t want to do anything drastic.”

“Sir yes sir,” she said, grinning wildly. She leaned back on the car door window and her knee was bobbing with a happy twitch. She was staring down at me, I feel like she always made an effort to look me in the eye but now her gaze was exploring my body. Looking over my frail arms poking out my baggy shirt, my little legs half dangling off the big plushy seat of her big fucking truck. Her grin turned into a very smug one and she let out an amused huff of air. “I’m not gonna stop teasing you though shrimp.”

“Sticks and stones Quinndolin.”

“Oh my god shut up.” She untucked her leg from under her and shoved her huge foot at me and it pushed me all the way until I lightly thumped into the door. She hated when I called her that. “Do you wanna sleepover in my room tonight?”

Her foot retracted and she sat up properly in the driver seat and put her feet down at the pedals. She looked at me for an answer.

“Oh ummm.”

“Just so we can cuddle, or you can sleep on the floor if you really want.”

“No, yeah, I’d love to.”

“Sleep on my floor?”

“No, no.”

She smirked. “It could be cute, you could curl up by my bed like a lil puppy.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

She laughed and turned the engine on and the truck roared to life. She drove us home and there was a fun energy between us, she played more Chappell Roan and this time I was singing the lyrics with her and letting any and all feelings of shame fly out the window as we sped along the road.

*

When we arrived home, the lights were off inside and we snuck through the house to Quinn’s room. The shadowed duvet all ruffled up from our movie marathon, I felt her enormous presence push me into the room. It was quite dark but I could sense Quinn’s body looming large around me, her footsteps softly padding on the carpet as she crawled into bed. I followed her under the warm silky covers and they smelled of her creamy mango scented skin and I felt her hand graze over my stomach and around my waist and pull me closer to her. Her half-lidded eyes staring dreamily into mine, barely able to make out much more of her face in the shadowy light. She started tugging at my shirt and I got the message and took it off, I heard rustling as she removed her top too. My legs brushed against her thighs and they were still so smooth and it made a shiver go down my spine, she radiated with warmth and I was consumed by it as her hand ran over my side, her big fingers lingering over my hip and the side of my butt and then she grasped my thigh and pulled me right into her body, her hand almost encircled it. I didn’t have much to see but I could just feel how she absolutely dwarfed me, her hips rose over mine and her soft breasts splayed over my chest entirely, her skin gliding across mine, nubs swelling as they tickled over my chest hair. She used her nail to slowly trace back up my leg, gently scratching my side, over each little rib until she caressed my face in her hand.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“I do,” I breathed. “But I’m scared.”

“That’s okay.” She kissed my forehead and her plush lips left a fading wetness. She turned my body around so she was spooning me. “We’ll take it nice,” she pulled my waist into hers and the seat of her pelvis and thighs nestled around me, "and slow.” Her huge boobs rested on my shoulders as she held me to her, her leg wrapped around mine and her thigh enveloped mine entirely. “Hm?”

“Yeah… nice and slow…”

Then she said sweet dreams and I couldn’t tell if she called me Bailey or baby.

I don’t know if I admitted my love to Quinn because it was the honest to god truth or because it felt easier than admitting that I wanted her to own me like a pet. Maybe it’s both. I don’t know and I don’t really care anymore because in the morning I woke up wrapped in her enormous, cuddly arms. She was lounged on her side with me tucked between her burly upper arms, her giant breasts spilling in front of my face like supple pillows, the pink areolas highlighted by the morning sun coming through the windows above her bed. I was smaller, I could tell because each of her huge tits were the size of my head, and her own huge face dozed above mine, dirty blonde hair cast over her eyes, snoring gently into her pillow. My shorts had slid off in the night too and my crotch was pressed against her thick, powerfully built legs, gently brushing my thighs against hers to feel her soft, smooth skin rub against mine under the lacey covers.

I’d had a dream at the beach again. A pyramidal temple stood above a line of palm trees. Grandiose ceilings and towering pillars of sandstone. Quinn laid enormously on her side. A clearer image of her nude body this time. Her generous chest splaying over the stone slab, her hip rising dramatically toward the ceiling, plush and long as it lowered down her shapely legs. She owned a legion of us. At her every beck and call. Crawling over her soft skin, lost in the folds of her. Feeling the pliable ground beneath our feet grumble at her sighs of pleasure.

I felt a low moaning rumble emanate from her as she stirred and her arms wrapped me tighter, giving me a face full of cleavage and a tinge of sweat mixed with her body wash and she rolled me to her other side, wrapping her huge leg over mine and pulling the blanket over our legs. A sleepy grunt as she got comfortable again, satisfied with how she’d enfolded me in her warmth.

I could get used to this. I really could.

My cock was stirring with the movement against her thigh and started to poke aggressively into it. I tried not to think about how she was my sister and instead thought about how she was Quinn. Big, cuddly Quinn. I whimpered a little as I pressed my hips against her thigh, the trunk limb feeling like it was as wide as my waist, I was sunken firmly to the mattress by the other draped over me, a balmy heat breathing on my stomach as it grazed her crotch. All I could smell was her warm skin.

Quinn stirred again and this time her eyes fluttered open. She smiled dozily at me through the curtains of her hair. “Mmmmmm,” she purred and it rumbled through me as she snuggled me further in her bosom. She rolled on her back and lowered one of her big hands to cup my entire butt, feeling each finger gently lay over and grasp that soft part of me as she lazily pushed me up to face her, my arms naturally bunching to my chest as they made room for her boobs on either side, my erect cock was the only thing holding up my loose undies as it dragged over the puffy muff concealed by her thin rugby shorts. She inhaled deeply through her nose and breathed out a content sigh, making eyes with me the whole time as her hot breath brushed my face and I rose and fell with her dilating chest. “You got even smaaaaller on me,” she playfully whined and squeezed her legs, compressing me tenderly in the vice of her thighs as she stretched her legs out, which consequently dragged me back down through her cleavage, my cheeks rubbing along her gentle skin, her thighs tightened and shuddered a little at the apex of her stretch. I closed my eyes and a repressed moan escaped my lips as her stretch pressed my dick firmly against her abdomen, the firm but pliable weight moulding around my shaft.

“Did you sleep well?” She asked innocently.

I could only grunt in affirmation.

She relaxed and I breathed, chuckling a little nervously to myself as I grappled with the reality of her size and strength, my whole body laid across her torso like it were a table, my little legs dangling and warmed between her thighs.

“Come on, say something.” Her finger dipped under my chin and made me look at her.

“Good morning,” I smiled.

Quinn scrunched her face and laughed, a warm bellied laugh that trembled through me. “Good morning to you too.” Under the covers, she’d decided her hands were free to roam and her enormous palms laid themselves on the back of my thighs, and her knuckles touched as she nestled her hands far between my legs. She glided her hands upward, firmly, but still softly up my thighs, until she encased each of the little globes of my butt like juicy grapefruits, she squeezed them and I girlishly yelped as she then pressed my groin into her abs again, ribbing my morning wood over and between each muscly bump. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“Oh my god stop,” I said blushing immensely. I tried to snap out of it since it felt like things were moving far too fast, situationally and orgasmically speaking. “Wait, seriously.” I tapped her wrists to let go of me and she hesitated. “We said we would take things slowly.”

“Hey, you’re the one who woke me up,” she said.

“I know, I know, I didn’t think it through.”

“Mhmm.” She slid me off her and pulled the blanket back to reveal her long legs as she rolled over, her big ass pointed at me. The rugby shorts she wore were ridden up so thinly in her crack I could see her thong and her butt cheeks were hanging half out, cellulite and creased where the weight of her butt would rest. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“No I’m not mad at you. I’m just abiding by your rules,” she said glancing over her shoulder.

“It’s not like I don’t want to.”

“Oh yeah I figured as much.”

My face went red as she sat up, her feet thudding heavily on the ground as she stretched her arms out, arcing her back and letting her hair roll over her shoulders, her heavy breasts parted to either side. She extended her hands out long and flexed as she groaned in a first stretch of the morning type way. She stood up and half-heartedly tried to pick out her wedged rugby shorts before giving up and slowly bending at the hip to lay her palms flat over her feet, her enormous quads bulging even wider with her exposed hamstrings flexing too and both golden pillars rounded into the gentle, supple globes of her ass, each cheek prominently pronounced as they pointed to the ceiling, she pumped her leg one at a time and I watched, transfixed, as the heft of her cheeks wobbled side to side. Up she came, pressing her fists to her lower back as she stretched backward and I heard her spine audibly crackle and pop and she let out a satisfied moan. She stretched up now pressing her fingertips to the ceiling and then flexed her calves, standing on the ball of her foot, making her palm go flush with the roof, seemingly testing to see if she’d outgrown her bedroom. I was laying there rock hard taking in the rather sensual sight of watching my sister relieve her statuesque body of its morning stiffness when she suddenly spun around and caught me looking and scoffed at me, a smug grin curled at the corner of her lip when she saw the one-man tent pitched in my loose undies. She lowered herself onto the bed again, the mattress denting as she laid her big palms down, arching her back and letting her breasts hang heavily as she pawed her way toward me. Wagging her big hips behind her as she came upon me, one huge arm swinging over until her tits were swaying in my face, those bottle cap nipples pointing down at me almost teasingly.

“Maybe if you’d stop ogling me, this wouldn’t be such a problem,” she said and flicked the tip of my cock and I gasped.

“God, yeah, no. Sorry, you’re right.”

She giggled at me. “Let’s do something fun today.”

“What’re you thinking?”

“The reservoir?”

“Ooooh yes.”

So we got out of bed and I promised to abstain from any further scrutiny of Quinn’s mesmerizing and gorgeous body. But first she wanted to see how short I was, just quickly, she assured. When I stood up I was eye level with her navel and there wasn’t much need for teasing when all she had to do was look down at me through the valley of her bosom as she stepped right up to me and let the size of her do the talking. Her soft, defined stomach stretched wider than my shoulders and I was starting to feel very, very small next to her, watching the breadth of her expand and contract with her enormous breaths.

“Do I make you feel small?”

“Yes,” I said, letting my gaze drift down to her titanic thighs lightly squeezing the seams of her rugby shorts, each thigh had to weigh more than I did and were probably wider around than I was. The heat of her crotch exhaled on my chest. Her hand palmed over my head, running her fingers through my hair to make me look up at her, pulling it a little so my neck craned all the way back and she gently pressed me against her, the bottom of my chin and neck laid flat on her abdomen, staring far up the mounds of her upper abs and the hills on her chest, her thumb lovingly rubbing my head. The rest of my body surrounded itself in her thighs, my arms snugged to my side. The gentle pulse of her very faintly shuddered through me as I imagined the many mechanisms of her body at work, the enormous heart and arteries that powered this enormous beast, the firm strands and swells of her muscles under her soft layer of skin.

“Well, I think you’re cute.”

I blushed.

“But enough of that, right?” She said feeling my dick stir against her thigh.

“Yes, yeah,” I was at a loss for words.

*

There was a reservoir some forty minutes from our place that we would go to for a swim in the summer. It might’ve been the start of autumn but there was still some bite left from the holiday period. We packed a tote bag with our towels and swimmers and a speaker and had a bite to eat before we left. Settling ourselves in Quinn’s Ute, I had on board shorts tied as tightly as possible and one of her crop tops that fit me like a shirt and she was dressed in her lowcut denim shorts with her own crop top too, stretched by her bust and exposing a lot more skin than mine did, the straps of her coral red bikini looped around her neck. Her hair was tied up in a big spiky bun, she had a lot of hair so some strands that weren’t tied curled cutely to the sides, bangs falling to frame her face. She had a pair of sunnies on. We listened to Lush by Snail Mail on the way there, an angsty teen record and the track Heat Wave really set the mood of the day as it was warmer than usual. The suburbs morphed into rural roads with bush towering on either side and we wound the windows down so the cool, fresh smell of the trees could blow through our hair.

We drove up a winding dirt road until we found the small and empty carpark cascaded in a scattered shadow from the sunlight bleeding through the trees leaves. There was a stream running only a little way down from there that we followed and we saw a water dragon scuttle over some rocks, it was a beautiful day with the clouds lazily drifting over the blue sky framed by the trees drooping over the creek. We walked and talked, the leaf litter crunching under our shoes, Quinn kept making me repeat myself because my voice was ‘too little’, it was only a ten-minute walk upstream but I was already starting to lag behind Quinn as the incline increased. Her big butt swaying ahead, those back denim pockets looked painted on and they were right in line with my face, one cheek swinging up, the other one swinging down, swapping what side the denim was pulled taut. I was getting really tired trying to keep up with her.

“Wait!” I shouted.

She spun around and my arms swung tiredly as I came to a stop, catching my breath.

“Oh my goooood, are you seriously this unfit?”

I looked up at her and she seemed almost as tall as the trees. “It’s not fair, look at your legs.”

“You’re looking at my legs?” She gasped.

I groaned at her stupidity.

“Want a piggyback ride?”

My eyes lit up. The last time I’d been home, our family went to the beach for a week over the Christmas holidays and Quinn and I took her truck four-wheel driving on the beach and sandy dunes. We climbed this one particularly big dune over and over again since we brought a boogie board to slide down. Toward the end of one day, as the sun was beginning to set and the tide was coming in, I was too tired to go back up but Quinn wanted me to but I wouldn’t do it. At the time she would’ve only been 6’2 or 3, so she still had a lot of height on me.

“You’re such a baby,” she said.

“I’m tiiired Quinn, we gotta go back.”

She crossed her arms and sized me up. “What if I carry you up?”

“Do you think you can?”

“I reckon,” she said and she was right, I jumped on her back and she hooked her arms under my knees and she began bounding up the sandy dune, my body rocking with her movements as I held on for dear life around her neck. I remember being amazed at the sheer power in her body and it felt like I were atop a mighty steed.

And what a might steed she was…

“Well, I’m much more jockey sized nowadays,” I said, snapping back to it.

“You always were,” she said and turned around into a squat, her knees spreading as she lowered the great mass of her, the swell of her butt completely blocked my feet from view. “Climb on jockey boy.”

I hooked one leg over her thigh and then the other and she gripped the meat of my legs in her big hands to secure me and rose up with no struggle whatsoever, holding my weight to her like I were a schoolbag. She adjusted me so I was situated further up her back and I wrapped my arms around her neck, since her torso was too wide for me to get any kind of grip.

“I’ll never get over how light you are,” she said.

“I’m trying a new diet.”

Quinn laughed and set forth along the creek again and I bounced weightlessly against her broad back, starting to feel a stretch through my groin as my legs had to split to make their way around her. Further along, she crossed the stream, hopping from rock to rock, the crystal-clear water running through the cracks and over the sediment. A layer of perspiration had broken across her skin and I could feel it getting clammy where my arms crossed over her collarbone. Eventually we came to two monumental, hill-like boulders patched with moss that stood some way apart from each other and the unseen bottoms of them ran deep into the ground and naturally over time the space between was filled with rainwater and the trickling waterfall coming in from upstream to create a sizeable swimming pool. We found a shaded spot beneath a tree and Quinn let me down and we laid our towels out. Luckily there was no one around, this pool got busy during the summer and weekends and it wasn’t so relaxing when there were teenagers wooping and yelling as they bomb dived from the boulder into the water.

I was standing there admiring the gently rippling surface of the water, taking in the fresh smell of nature and listening to distant bird’s caw, I wiggled my toes in the pebbly ground. I walked to the waters edge and tested it with my foot, snatching it back as I felt how ice cold it was. Further out, a part of the pool was glittering with refractions from the sun but at the shore it was shady and cold. Turning to Quinn, she smiled at me as she shimmied out of her denim shorts, not that they were hiding her legs before but now the full length of them were on display, her bikini bottom hugged snug around her curvy waist, the coral red complimented her golden skin. She pulled her hair tie out and shook her hair out, playing with it so it set nicely, then threw her top to the side and started sauntering toward the water. As she came toward me I was reminded again that I only came to her navel and watching her barely covered hourglass figure loom larger I felt my dick stir.

“Is it cold?”

“Yeah, freezing.”

That didn’t phase her and she started to wade into the water, only barely wincing as it touched her knees, her butt had totally swallowed the back of her bikini. She took one step and dove forward, a tactile splash and her enormous body propelled fast and low beneath the surface as she took one huge stroke. Her head breached in the middle of the pool, flicking her wet hair back. She had a huge grin on her face as she treaded water on her back.

“It’s not that bad!” She called and splashed water toward me. “Jump in!”

I really hated going in cold water but it still looked incredibly inviting, the breeze rippling through the trees atop the enormous granite boulders and the soft trickle of the waterfall running between them, and the sight of her out there, now with her eyes closed floating languidly in the rippling water, slowly swathing those enormous limbs of hers, reaching a part of the pool where the sun hit her face and she became one with the scene of nature before me. I inhaled deeply, preparing myself. I threw my shirt off and Quinn whistled. Taking a few paces back, I ran and dove forward into the water, shutting my eyes right as I hit the surface. An icy shock overcame me and I tensed up as I came up for air. My dive was nowhere near as impressive as Quinn’s and it seemed I had to paddle a far distance to reach her, the pool started to seem as big as the ocean. I grimaced from how cold I was.

Quinn saw me struggling and swam toward me, giggling to herself when she found some footing on the rocky pool floor where she could stand and I felt quite foolish for thinking I was out so deep, flailing a little embarrassingly trying to reach her.

Only her breasts upward were out of the water and yet it still felt like she outsized me. “C’mere,” she said warmly and with a tenderness to her touch, turned me around in the water, her arms looping under mine as she leaned back and kicked her legs taking us deeper, alternating me between her huge thighs, my head tucked in her wet bosom. “How’s that? Warmer?” She cooed.

“Mmm.” I closed my eyes and let her body heat warm up my frigid self. “It’s nice,” I said as the sun glowed red through my eyelids as she brought us into a warmer part of the pool. It was like she was so huge that her body was hardly affected by the temperature of the water, like I was atop a plush heated raft. We floated there like that for a bit, not talking much but talking softly to each other, our voices mingling with the chatter of birds and chirping crickets, her voice would buzz through my back as I lay on her. We were regathering our energy after what had been a tumultuous few days of highly strung emotions.

Those days had been surreal. I was now the size of a child. I was on the verge of having a sexual relationship with my stepsister. We’d be living alone soon, and I think I was only able to feel so relaxed because that thought didn’t scare me in the slightest. None of it did. Every hour I spent with Quinn, my walls became thinner and thinner, and let me tell you some holes were starting to break through. Tonight would be the night, I thought to myself. Tonight will be the night we have sex. I could tell Quinn wanted to, she’d been so sensual in her touching and attitude today, speaking almost slower, annunciating her words and she was so casual in the way she handled me, running her hands along my sides in the water. Compared to me her arms were so long that occasionally she’d reach down and play with my little toes in her big fingers. I was the only one stopping us. It’d be our little secret. 

Quinn moved me into the crook over her left arm, so she was cradling me like a baby, the side of my face pressed against her wet bikini stretched over her bust, it felt like I was glued to her. Her arm lined my back and gently cupped over my butt. We were silent for a few moments, then I felt her hand become curious, her sausage fingers testing the plushness of my butt, she placed two fingers on each cheek and then spread them through my board shorts, giggling when my eyes shot open.

“What’re you doing?” I asked.

“Just seeing what I’m working with.”

“That’s a no-go zone, okay?”

“Oh is it?” She bunched my cheeks in one big hand and squeezed and I started to squirm and protest. “You don’t like it when I play with your little butt?” Her middle finger pressed into my taint and then dragged its way through my crack and I shivered like I did when I jumped in the water for the first time. Being in the water, I’d suffered some shrinkage sure, but my dick wasn’t going to let this slide. I didn’t respond but we were staring into each other’s eyes, and she had this hungry look on her face. In this sunlit part of the pool, the water was shimmery and clear and I watched her right hand draw an S down my chest, her nail grazing on my skin, lingering right above my crotch, scratching at me. “It certainly seems like you like it.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Mm really? Do you like how big my hand feels?” She said as she grabbed another handful of ass, kneading it in her fingers and I reflexively squirmed in her grip. I still had to learn how to compose myself around her when it became sultry like this. She laid her palm flat on my stomach and glided up my chest, the water making our skin slide with no friction, and using her whole hand she started to feel up my arm, squeezing my little bicep in her fingers, encircling my forearm with her thumb and forefinger, tittering to herself, pinching my arms and legs like she were looking to pick the meat clean from my bones. Then her hand held mine, she laced our fingers together and her hands were so much larger than mine it felt like my fingers were being suffocated between hers. She rose our hands out of the water, unentwined so my palm was laid on hers and I let out a quiet gasp as I took in the comparison. My hand barely covered Quinn’s palm, her fingers dancing teasingly above, she enclosed my hand in her fist and made this little hum of approval and hugged me tighter to her, squashing my face between her left tit and bicep. She didn’t even need to say anything and yet my face was bright red, the very sight of our bodies in comparison was enough to make me blush. 

“Someone’s off with the fairies,” she said, taking perch on a rock that left most of her body submerged, the great size of her breasts floating by my head, droplets of water rolled into her cleavage. She laid me across her thick thighs, splayed from sitting, and kept my head above water, she stared down at me, smiling. 

“I don’t know what to say,” I said.

“Is it because I’m overwhelming?” She pushed her chest out boastingly, wading the water with their weight, the red bikini straps pulled tight into her milky tit flesh those small triangles that covered her nipples. With her right hand she pawed over her big wet tit, slowly dragging her hand down the creamy flesh until she toggled her nipple between her fingers. A quiet moan that led to a girlish giggle as she did.

“Yeah,” I said, my mouth being very dry and being unsure of what she wanted from me. I couldn’t stop staring at her huge bosom as it invaded my personal space, her untouched nipple poking into my cheek and she subtly rubbed it against my face. I was surrounded by her, the thickness of her arm behind me felt like it covered my back, and I was sat between her womanly thighs, my legs barely hung over the edge of her lap.

Her hand pawed over my chest again, creeping down, painstakingly slow this time. She stopped right at my waistband where my cock was painfully pushed against my tight boardies. We looked at each other and she smirked and dragged her a nail over my erection and it felt so, so good.

“Wait.”

“For what?” She hooked a finger inside my waistband, her nails feeling extra cold against my skin. I shivered when her probing hand enwrapped my cock in its entirety. Her forefinger curled right over the tip, tugging down my foreskin.

“Quinn…” I whimpered, ragged, desperate breaths.

“Mhmmm?”

“I – I don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh come on.” She looked to where our bags were and the path we’d taken to get here. “There’s no one around and this little thing’s been poking me all day.”

“But, but… Isn’t it like, wrong, in a place like this?” I was trying to think of any excuse, I was hung up on the idea of our first time being tonight.

She laughed at that. “Oh my god, you worry way too much. You’re shaking like a nervous gerbil.”

“I’m worried about the environment.”

“Just relax, okay?” She removed her hand from my pants and gently pushed my head back to lay against her big arm and she shut my eyes with her fingers and sensually dragged them down my face, over my cheeks and flicking my bottom lip so I tasted the sediment-tinged water on her fingertips. Her hand felt my pecs as they made their way down my body, each time her fingernail gently scratched me, a shock ran down my spine and the closer she got to my crotch, my erection stood further to attention, detached from rational thinking and only lusting after one thing. She teased open my waistband, wiggling a finger beneath until her hand breached and exposed me and wrapped its clammy self around my cock. I took a deep breath.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” I shakily said.

“Nice and slow, right?” She said, slowly stroking down on my cock, rolling my foreskin down then up, lazily, so it bunched up and stimulated my glans. I couldn’t help but let a surprised gasp as the feeling was all-consuming and made my reservations disappear. I’d been on a masturbatory binge since I’d come back from college thanks to Quinn, but this was the second day in a row where I hadn’t touched myself and so I was very sensitive and felt an orgasm preparing itself to blow. I whimpered as she started to stroke faster, and she was giving me this smug grin, looking at me over the hill of her breasts, playing her nipple teasingly across my face and biting her lip as she watched me squirm in her lap, water splashing about us.

“Wait!” I practically shouted.

She stopped stroking and I was on the brink of an explosion. Honestly she looked annoyed at first, but as she studied my flushed panting face and my little cock pulsing in her big hand which she inquisitively squeezed, her grin grew wider. She could read me like a fucking book. “Oh, am I going too fast for you?”

I nodded.

“Aww gosh, are my big hands too much for Bailey’s itsy bitty little cock?” She pinched my glans, teasing just the tip between her thumb and forefinger. “Is that better?”

I immediately busted and shot a white rope into the clear water and another smaller one and the rest of her hand enwrapped my cock as she finished pumping me off while I moaned passionately into the wet mass of her tit.

She let out this girlish tsk, lightly tapping my butt under the water and mockingly said, “And here I thought you wanted to take things slow.”

“Har har,” I said, unable to give much to my sarcastic retort. That was record pace for me. Maybe I’d only been holding back this whole time because I knew I wouldn’t last the minute Quinn touched me.

She burst into a fit of giggles and bit her lip as she leaned her head back, the hand she’d been using to wank me off now playing with her nipple through her bikini, those nubs swollen like grapes. “Fuck.”

Though something I’d failed to consider in this instance was that if I were to get off, she would have to get off too and as I watched her rise, far, far into the sky, drops of water spilling down her statuesque body, between her glorious tits and her toned golden thighs. She stood on the rock she’d been sitting on and I was left floating by her big calves staring the long way up her legs and I couldn’t even see her face beneath the shelf of her bosom. She seemed to me an enormous giant stretching as tall as the boulders by her flank, finally gazing down at me from so high above, the only thing taller than her was the sky. “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”