“D-Deal?” Scott peeped as his little sister kept his inch-tall body pinched within spitting distance of her deep blue irises, grim determination in her gaze.

            “Yep.  I’m surprised you don’t want to make one with me, actually,” she commented with a confused frown.

            “W-What?”

            “I guess I’m gonna have to do the talking here, huh?  Look, here’s the thing.  One way or another, you’re going in my mouth-”

            “Maggie!” Scott couldn’t help but gasp on the edge of tears, totally unconcerned with the pleading in his tone.  “M-M-Mom s-said…”

            “I heard what Mom said, little loser,” Maggie snapped quietly.  “And, again: I’m going to put you in my mouth.  You can’t do anything about that, so you might as well listen to the rest.”

            “What?” Scott said, managing a stinging gulp.

            “You don’t say anything about it to Mom.  At all.  You don’t stutter at me or make a single little complaint about it, and…”

            “W-What about the… the weeds?” Scott choked.

            “I’ll do them, obviously.  What do I care?  It’ll take me fifteen minutes tops since I’m normal.”

            “Oh.”

            “You’ll be along for the ride, of course, you just don’t have to do them yourself…” the girl added with a snicker.  With her other hand, she ran her fingers through her blonde locks, twirling a few silky tufts as she went in thought.

            “So…” Scott muttered boldly, deciding that with his fate already decided, he might as well hazard some commentary.  “So what makes this a deal?”
            “I’m glad you asked,” Maggie simpered with a grin as she tilted her head to the side.  Once she’d finished brushing her fingers through her hair, her free hand arrived in front of Scott’s face and she began to stroke his miniscule cranium with the tip of her pinky with such tenderness it almost reminded the young man rather creepily of the soothing massages his girlfriend would give him whenever he was overwhelmed by his home life.

            “Why?”

            “Because if you let me put you in my mouth without whining and without telling Mom, I’ll do your stupid weeds, and I’ll call Ella so you can talk to her.”

            Scott frowned, his heart catching in his chest, and already knew exactly what he had to do right now, however much it made him ache to imagine the strain.  He opened his mouth, his throat dry, and spoke up again: “How do I know you won’t tell Mom?”

            It was a stupid question, he knew, because he was by far the more disadvantaged negotiator here, seeing as his sister would basically get whatever terms she wanted without much change if he refused his half of the “deal.”  At worst, he could earn his sister a scolding of some variety from Judy.  Still, his hope couldn’t resist making him ask.

            “Because I won’t, weirdo,” she said with surprising frankness.  “Not that you’ve got much reason to try saying no anyway, but I won’t.”

            “Okay,” Scott managed with agreement, his eyes now locked to his sister’s enormous lips below as they gently shifted to speak each spiteful word.

            “Are we good, then?” Maggie asked, not bothering to hide her smile.  “We have a deal?”

            “Yes,” the young man said immediately without letting himself think about it, too bitterly humiliated in his requirement to linger on it for much longer.

            “Awesome,” the girl giggled, lowering Scott down into her palm once again.  “First things first: clothes off so you can suit back up.”

            Shivering, no longer completely out of fear but now out of simple emotional degeneration, Scott focused on the detailed floor of his sister’s fleshy palm and threw his shirt, pants, and even underwear down to the malleable ground without another moment of hesitation.  It was an act that, in the past, would’ve put him through the emotional wringer, but now he did it as easily as anything; there were more important things to worry about.  He forced himself to ignore Maggie’s tittering at the sight of such a debasement: it was the first time he’d willingly stripped himself down in her hands.

            Think of Ella.  Think of Ella.  Think of Ella.

            “That’s my good boy,” Maggie whispered with simmering satisfaction, and suddenly Scott could hear that Jekyll-and-Hyde tone of hers fighting its way back to the surface.  The menace in her tenor was shrinking back and being replaced with pure and simple curiosity that stretched far beyond mere academic interest into a realm too revolting to contemplate at this tenuous juncture.

            She was staring at him, up and down, all over, no longer completely out of cruelty, but just because she wanted to.  He could feel her blue eyes drilling into him, and he wanted to become sick at the mere thought of it.

            Maggie had seen all he had to offer a multitude of times before, far too many to truly get hung up on at this point in his life, but before she’d only ever stared at him as a sibling she could so easily pick on, and in later years, simply an anatomically correct doll.

            Now it was different, gut-wrenchingly so, and like at the soccer game, he felt more exposed in front of her than ever before.

            But this time, he couldn’t just curl up into his own dark little void beneath her and escape it for however long he had to to fend off a breakdown.  He couldn’t just be an island, floating in the nothingness and ignorance.  He was going to have to face this thing sooner or later, and seeing as how he was about to be put into his little sister’s mouth, “sooner” seemed like it had been decided for him.

            Think of Ella. Think of Ella.  Think of Ella.

            “Isn’t that so much better?” Maggie posed rhetorically at her brother’s silence, and suddenly her hand was rising up toward her chin.  “Now, I highly suggest you take a deep breath here pretty quick.”

            “Wait!  The… the suit.  What about the-” he practically screeched, realizing the crushing gravity of the situation with each additional word out of Maggie’s mouth.

            “Okay, so I may have fibbed a little, Scotty,” she said with a shrug.  “Pull it together.”

            “But I need…”

            “What you need is to make that your last complaint about it, like I said, if you still want this deal to happen,” the diabolical sixteen-year-old blurted coldly.  “Besides, I’m not stupid.  If I put you in with your clothes on or the little scuba suit, it might still be wet when Mom gets back, and that would be bad.  For both of us.  So now, we’re gonna both play the quiet game.  Starting now.”

            Scott fought back a terrified scream in his throat, utterly bare and defenseless at an inch, while Maggie’s parted lips lowered down to cover as much of her palm as she could until he was rapidly ensconced in the heat and darkness, already feeling the moisture of the muggy air on his every exposed skin cell.

            He stood alone for a moment, trembling, forcing himself to keep from making a sound or stumbling in the blackness, when Maggie’s tongue suddenly tackled him from behind.  With its stickiness and girth, it easily managed to scoop Scott’s meager frame up and pin him to the roof of her mouth as the whole terrifying roller coaster shifted upright again, until all that held the young man up from tumbling down to a base of teeth and pooled sputum was the dexterous might of his little sister’s pointed tongue.

            With the colossal girl’s teeth clacked shut again and lips firmly sealed, Scott felt free to let out a few panicked gasps he’d been managing to hold in, though at this point they only escaped his throat as airy blips.

            He wanted to shiver, but every additional movement he made allowed his sister’s cascading saliva to reach the few remaining specks of his body that hadn’t been coated in the hot, gooey miasma yet.  A bubbly bundle of churned froth ran down his back and he gasped in surprise, having no way to see anything in the absolute darkness, and he closed his eyes and only breathed in short bursts, the same technique he used when trapped in Maggie’s shoe, but somehow it didn’t work here.  It was all becoming too real, and every time he’d try to force himself to ignore his senses, he’d hear the squelch of spit under the tongue or feel a fresh wave of heat unfurling from the back of the girl’s throat.

            The first full contact of the tongue with his crotch took place as he was folded down into the valley of the organ.  It sent Scott into a moment of full-body convulsions at the shock of it, the sticky lubricant coating every inch of every last bodily secret he had remaining.  If Maggie noticed this final application of pressure to his miniscule member, she didn’t seem to care or shy away from it, allowing him to ride out the motion with his entire front flush against her squirming muscle.

            He knew such a meeting was inevitable given his lack of clothes, but that didn’t make it any less loathsome or shamefully goose bump-inducing.  In a few seconds, no matter how enraged he became with himself, he knew his intensely pent-up physical frustrations would begin to win out, just as they had in Nancy’s hands; he could already feel the familiar criminalizing tingling beneath his skin that always preluded the upcoming expansion, and there was nothing he could do as the droves of saliva washed over his body, Maggie’s taste buds incidentally massaging his loins.

            Think of Ella.  Think of Ella.  Think of Ella.

            This abominable sensation was miraculously interrupted before it could get any traction in Scott’s baser synapses, and luckily before he had the chance to begin stiffening.  A throaty rumble emanated from all sides as Maggie snickered with feverish delight at her good fortunes, vibrating her brother’s body as she tucked him into her inner cheek.  Then, entire mouth compressing and undulating until Scott was hugged on all sides by slimy flesh and exploratory taste buds, she began to pulse.  Over and over, hot saliva sloshed back over his shoulders and back with each repetition, and he realized what was happening to his body.

            His sister was sucking on him.

            The realization made him instinctively gasp with shock and disgust, his entire frame cringing, but opening his mouth immediately filled him with regret as well as a pint of Maggie’s broiling spit. Instantly he set about trying to choke it back up, managing to cough out enough mouthfuls of it so that his lungs weren’t filled with the stuff, but another gut punch from the girl’s tongue had flicked him back into her other cheek for another round of sucking, and a massive mouthful of it made its way down his gullet.

            He couldn’t help but shudder again, feeling more violated than ever, tasting the intimate flavors of his sister’s mouth now with every labored inhalation in ways more detailed than even the sixteen-year-old was probably capable of.  Distant remains of minty morning toothpaste long covered up by the day’s meals.  Tangy marina from her school lunch.  Cinnamon chewing gum, probably a few hours old.  The foul, bacterial reek of the very back of her tongue where the girl evidently was not particularly adept at brushing thoroughly.  Scott, in his terrified state of adrenaline-soaked focus, was now a connoisseur of his little sister’s spit.

            It was beyond perverse, filling the mouth’s inch-tall prisoner with the desire to stick his finger down his throat and upchuck it, despite knowing that such a thing would be almost certain suicide while he shakily carried out his half of Maggie’s bargain.  Lucky enough for the young man, this concern was quickly pushed to the back of his survival-focused mind when his sister’s tongue slipped out from under him again, allowing him to plop into the moist floor of her mouth, frothy saliva filling in around the corners like a wading pool almost as soon as he’d settled meekly onto his haunches.

            And then the tongue was lowering again, like a soggy mattress and twice as heavy, pinning the twenty-one-year-old flat onto his face.  His head dunked back into the slobbery mayhem, his air once again cut off, and his heart fluttered in panic.  After a few seconds, no change was made; she seemed to be content with storing him underneath the monstrous slithering beast for the time being, with his head forced into the swamp of spittle.

            What if she couldn’t tell what she was doing?  What if she was just having her fun, and he suffocated?

            What if he literally drowned in his sister’s mouth, choking on the limitless gallons of her hot saliva?

            Despite himself, knowing that impacting the muscular might of the teen’s tongue would be impossible unless she herself wanted to lurch it off his trembling form, he began to kick and scream, thrashing his arms with as much insignificant motion as the firm give of the organ’s squishy flesh would provide.  More viscous blobs of saliva poured over his lips but he didn’t care, knowing at this point that he would be out of air very shortly if he didn’t do something.

            And then suddenly it was lifting off of him, decompressing just enough that he was able to gasp in a few more tormented breaths of the steamy, tainted air and refill his lungs with the sickly flavor of Maggie’s muggy breath.

            She knew precisely what she was doing.  He could see that now, and though he was now convinced she wouldn’t let him die in here on accident, the fact that she was apparently perfectly content with letting him believe such a thing was possible did little to assuage the realization.

            There was no escape, either from the strength of his little sister’s tongue, or from the living, squishy, writhing nightmare of it all.  He was in the moment to stay.

            Think of Ella.  Think of Ella.  Think of Ella.