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                Your world shifts upward as if you were on a roller coaster car, driving up a creaking rail to the very top, your stomach lurching in preparation for the drop to come.  Cold wind whips through the tiny green holes in the woolly fabric, tickling your cheeks and arms, sending chills down your spine.  A warning.  Your body hardly knows how to respond, as the entire front side of your body begins to overheat and sweat, scrunched powerfully into the curled toes of your titanic sister’s right foot, held firmly against the smooth, rotund upper ridge of her ped right where her toes connect. 

Your body slides and jiggles ever so slightly against your will on a lubricant of Carly’s semi-sticky night sweat, never given the opportunity to be wiped off before you were jammed into her sock and held in place like a swatted fly by your sister’s thirty-ton leg and basketball court-worn foot.

Come to think of it, you doubt this was an accident.

Then, as Carly’s raised right foot hits the highest peak in the air, probably no more than eight inches or so off the ground, you feel the wind stop whipping your back, replaced by the slight tightening of the itchy green threads against your arms and legs like inescapable ropes, cruelly binding you even harder against your little sibling’s warm flesh with a thread sting to your shoulder blades.

Just as soon as the wind stopped, though, it restarts again, this time rushing out through the pockets of green sock thread rather than in as Carly’s foot descends toward the ground.  As her toes wriggle above you, you can feel the vibration of powerful muscles in her foot all the way down at her plush toe prints.  Weight being shifted for the landing.

The vibrations of Carly’s taut, tan flesh increase tenfold as her foot comes (to you) crashing down onto the carpet of your house’s hallway, the sock tightening even more against your back with a rope-burning scald as Carly’s heel lays itself down, followed quickly by her wide, wrinkled sole laying itself flat on the ground.  You hear one of her toes pop quietly, before the final segment of the weight is shifted into her long, dexterous digits.

Instantly, your body is compressed and folded into an overwhelming, slightly sagging ceiling of your sister’s warm, lightly sweat-greased skin, her cold toe flesh caving in around you like a coffin.  You gasp in a few breathes of precious clean air before finding your face once again gripped tightly between her big and second toes, your entire face pressed so hard against the tender skin in between her toes it caves in around the shape of your facial features, your neck precariously lined up between the firmer upper section of her toes.

Easily snapped with a single flick of Carly’s muscular toes, if she so chose.

You turn your head as much as possible with the extremely limited space you have, claustrophobia gripping at your heart icily.  You feel as if you’re swimming in a thick sea of your younger sister’s oppressive foot flesh, her firm toes tightened around your naked body like octopus tentacles gripping their helpless prey, as you can only turn your head partially to the side, as if you were breathing while doing the breaststroke.  You open the corner of your mouth, breathing gently and slowly through it.  Your only hope to avoid being suffocated in the massive, never-ending wall of your gargantuan sister’s warm skin.

Of course, having your neck twisted into Carly’s toes and your tiny face firmly pressed against her sweaty flesh, surrounded by a forest of stale green sock fabric, is enough even in mere presence to your oxygen to screw over any chance of making it through the ordeal with your lungs still intact.

The rotting, mahogany stench of the sock is invasive to your nostrils, smelling strongly of thick, furry dust ropes and balls that must have been collecting against the fabric along with an army of noxious mothballs in a drawer somewhere before they were knitted together for your sister to wear at Christmas time.  The vague whiff of fabric softener and dishwasher suds are no match for the upper lip-wrinkling cragginess of the smell: like wood and fungus-covered soil, wrapped up into a sock.

You inhale, turning your head back to the side, and receive a noseful of the other scent wracking the hot pocket of flesh and fabric you find yourself trapped in so hellishly, shivering painfully as you do so.

Wet, grimy, fleshy stink wallops you in the face, the bubbly, fruity remnants of some long-ago scrubbed soap on your sister’s soft toes and foot ball rippling through your brain and making you dizzy as you intake another breath.  Like watery oil stains, greasy and dripping, hanging in the air hot and thick against your cheeks: a fog of musky, feminine sweat vapor.

As you exhale, the vice of toe flesh shifts its grip on your grape-like head, pressing you back against the damp, enclosing wall of digits as your sister purposefully scrunches them around you painfully, bending your arms so hard you wonder why they don’t snap.  Gritting your teeth, your breath quickening, you make a note of this: you know perfectly well what she’s telling you.

You’ve learned very well over these five years what certain wordless actions mean for you.

You pucker your lips and kiss the cushy, cold, sour flesh of your sister’s foot skin, feeling the sticky dried night sweat encrusting against your lips, the stinging stench of unwashed, dirt and dust-speckled toe prints snaking their way through your nose and taking a cold death grip on your nerve endings.  You feel like your face is lighting on fire as your cheeks press harder and harder into the tender skin, caving wetly around your body, forcing you to make a snow angel in the soft, partially sweat-tickled foot of your goddess-bitch of a younger sister, towering over you like the arrogant, self-serving, well-toned monument of flesh, muscle, and unbalanced psyche that she is.

The mammoth toes curl harder and harder around you until your temple starts pounding, as if ordering you to heave the hundreds of pounds of cool, grimy pressure of your sibling’s heavy skin off of your screaming body.  You feel, at long last, a trickle of cold foot sweat running down your back from between Carly’s toes, overheated just a little too much from the needlessly thick woolen Christmas socks.

Clearly, you aren’t doing the job to your sister’s satisfaction.  You press your lips harder, kissing faster and with more intensity.  Anything to get the firm, painful pressure of her toes and greasy foot top off of your bruised body.  As Carly’s toes begin to quiver with the muscular requirement of staying clenched on your battered nude body for so long, you wrap your arms around her toes as hard as you can, your biceps flexing with the effort, your legs stiffened.  Playing your last available card, you close your eyes and open your mouth, laying down the hardest, wettest, most passionate kiss you can in between the vast valley of your sister’s meaty toes.  Biting on the hard, ridged exterior with your teeth before slicking the area with your tongue as much as possible, an insane inflow of grease, human flesh flavors, stale sock fuzz, and half-dried crusty sweat makes its way into your throat.

You swallow hard, your eyes watering from the absolute, all-consuming sting of sour sweat and bitter toe slime remnants slaking your cheeks and drying in your hair.  Your limbs go limp with the effort as you begin laying gentler kisses on your sister’s toes, hoping that your climactic smooch was enough to appease her.

Carly’s toes ripple over you before all coming down at once, stiffening and tapping themselves onto your body, laying you out helplessly in the damp toe section of the sock before re-gripping you, more gently this time, like a dead animal or random object she dropped on the floor and is trying to pick up.

Suddenly, her foot arches, her toes bending back down on you with full muscular force, training you down against the carpet through the sock.  You feel the vibrations of weight shifting again.  You gasp lightly for breath, quivering, hoping Carly realizes how painful this is for you.

Despite how hard it is to see in the darkness of the thick green Christmas sock, you feel a shadow casting itself over you.  You realize that Carly must be bending over, looking down at your pathetic lump inside her sock being kneaded so carelessly and overly playfully by her unclean toes.

Instinctively, a chill runs through your body, and you grasp your arms around Carly’s second toe again, pinching at it with your fingers as hard as you can, digging your fingernails at the dirt-lined toe print rings as if trying to clean them out a little in preparation for whatever is coming.

Your breaths come in shorter bursts as more and more weight bears down on you, the stench seeming to collect itself above you as if commanded by gravity to swim like a thick, smelly pea soup of Carly’s dingy, doughy, putrid peds in all of their athletic, sinewy glory.

Slowly, Carly’s toes pinch themselves possessively around your head again, and then you hear the girlish murmuring sound of Carly’s lowest, sweetest sounding whisper, denoted by a “loving” wiggle of her hulking toes against your head and sweat-sticky hair.

“Give them another kiss, little bro.  They’re the only girlfriends you’ll ever get to touch, after all,” she whispers slyly.  “Show me how much you love me.”

The word are poisonous in your ears, but you don’t have long to ponder it as the gripping comes back, burly and hard against your ribs.  Cringing and nearly crying from the pain, you dive your chin back between the toes and pucker up for another muggy, rancid make-out session.

“THAT’S my good little naked boy toy…” she giggles powerfully, her toes resorting to rubbing you hard around your stomach and crotch rather than just squeezing tortuously.  Instantly, you feel your dick beginning to grow at the warm touch of your sister’s endless sea of pale foot flesh, despite the soreness wracking the rest of your body, including your tired lips as you continue to kiss into the unholy corner of skin between Carly’s toes.  “Be good and don’t stop until I tell you to…” she continues, raising her foot to take another step. “…and then maybe I’ll let you out of your Christmas present tonight.  No promises or anything, though…”

Chapter End Notes:

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