Skinny brother

[Maestro]

 Wow! This has to be one of the best stories on saradas.org. Fabulous job of sharing their emotional experiences as well as great descriptions of sister’s increasing strength and muscularity. Can an eight year old girl really be so strong? Absolutely yes, just look at pics and videos of girl athletes. Could she really dominate and beat up her older brother? Of course she could. Hell, I think this girl could beat a full-grown man, especially a skinny one. So BRAVO!!! I can’t wait to see the next chapter!!!
K+++++
 

[wissen]

Honestly, I hope that Lyza will cool down her aggression and violence. Her brother really didn't deserved it and I hope for much better and friendlier relationships between them.

[phil123]

Hope that they find a way that her brother will support her to get bigger as he knows that this is the only way to survive. Perhaps Rebecca also becomes bigger so he is not only the skinny brother but als the skinny boyfriend.

[Aadi]

Hey guys, I need your help. I understand that as a reader the POV format is interesting. As a writer too, writing from the brother’s POV provides more opportunity for muscle descriptions and delving into the victim’s  feelings. However, as a writer, creatively it gets a little exhausting recounting the same stuff again, especially in long form stories, that too when I know exactly how to move this story forward. It just feels a little creatively limiting. At the end of the day I’m doing this for you guys so you have the right to choose how this works going forward. Here are the three options:
1) move forward with the sister’s POV
2) move forward randomly Switching between brother’s and sister‘s  POV as I see fit in accordance with the story. 
3) Recount this in the brother’s POV before moving forward. (Let things stay as they are.)

I want you all to know that I have a bunch of ideas for all these options and am not biased towards any one of them. Please be candid with your opinions. I’ll start writing the next chapter once I have a genuine idea of what you guys want.

P.S. just as a PSA, if someone still doesn’t know who the Lyza character is based on, check out Lyzabrooks on Insta****. Let me know if you followed!

Without further ado, enjoy!

Chapter 13
Sister

*Beep Beep............Beep Beep*

The alarm rang at 5:30 am, right on schedule. Not that I needed it, in my excitement, I had already woken up 5 minutes earlier and was waiting for it to ring.

The previous night, after leaving my brother’s room, I went downstairs and turned on the TV. To be honest, I couldn’t concentrate on whatever was on, because I was so caught up in the excitement about what had transpired, just moments earlier. I had just utterly dominated my brother, and forced him to do things I wouldn’t even have thought of before today. I absolutely loved the feeling of having him praise my muscles, and accept their superiority. This was the first time he had totally given in and and admitted his weakness against me. And him licking my abs? I don’t even know where that request came from. It was as if some primal urge had taken over me when I asked him to do that. However, I gotta admit I felt so powerful in that moment that I’d do anything to get that feeling again. Moreover, my strategy of intimidating him into obeying me had worked so well! Yes, I know he hadn’t obeyed me when I asked him to punch me as hard as he could, but he had more than received punishment for it. I’m sure he’ll think 10 times before refusing a direct order again.
I can’t believe it had been so easy! All of it, from staring him down to making him kiss and feel my muscles had been an absolute piece of cake. The only part that had required any work from my side was dragging his limp body to his bed and then lifting him with one arm. The expression he had on his face when he woke up more than justified that work.

These thoughts had been going through my mind when I noticed the time. It was already 11:30. I had to be well rested for the next day’s events. It was Saturday the next day, which meant no school. I had so many plans for my dear old sweet brother, I couldn’t have lack of sleep interfering with them.
With that, I turned off the tv and went upstairs. On the way I stopped at my brother’s door. I was a little worried. If mom found his barf on the floor the next morning, it would ruin everything. I stretched out my hand to open the door to check, but then stopped again. A part of me knew that the floor had been cleaned already. There was no way my brother was going to risk it after the night’s events. With that, I made my way to my room, turned off the lights and settled in.

*present day*
As I was going over the night’s events in my mind, I looked over at the alarm clock. Heck! It was already 5:35 am. I had to move fast. The first part of my plan had to be done before our parents woke up.
I quickly got out of bed, and made my way to the washroom. As quickly as I could, I freshened up, brushed my teeth and took a bath. Ever since I had started going to the gym, taking a shower had become one of my favourite parts of the day. That was the time when I could really take the time to feel the changed my body had gone through. Unfortunately, today I didn’t have the time to explore. I quickly got out, went to my room, and put on my workout clothes. As I made my way to my brother’s room, I checked the time. Yesss! 6 am, right on time.
Without knocking, obviously, I opened the door and let myself in. As expected, my lazy lump of an older brother was fast asleep. I was going to go to his side and wake him up but then I smelled something. With one hand, I pulled away his sheets and saw it. A large wet stain on below his crotch. Ewww......gross. Never in my memory had Tom wet the bed. Had I caused that? I mean, he was terrified of me, and I had told him that he wasn’t allowed to leave his room to pee. I guess this one was one me. Either way, there was no way I was going to get any closer to that. But then, how do I wake him up? Judging by the state of sleep he was in, no amount of noise would’ve woken him up. I had to think of something, I was on the clock!
Suddenly I had an idea. Without thinking, I went over to the other side of his bed and put both my hands under it. Without knowing what to expect, I heaved, and shouted. It was heavier than I thought and took a considerable amount of strength, but I was able to lift it! Obviously, this meant the other side was tipped over and my darling brother went crashing down to the ground, now awake.
Still holding the bed, I shouted,
“Rise and Shine, Tommy!”
I knew he hated that name, it just added a little flavour to his humiliation.
I put the bed down and walked over to his side to see him still lying down.
“Leave me alone”, he said. “I need to sleep.”
I really didn’t have time for his tantrums. He had to move faster than that.
Without waiting for him to make a move I bent down, grabbed his T-shirt and pulled him up to a standing position. Maintaining my grip on his T-shirt, to make sure he didn’t fall down again, I slapped him with the other hand. That was enough to make him return to the world of the living. The first thing he noticed was me holding him up, and his hand immediately went to my fist. Fearing that he was going to be able to overpower me into letting go, I banged him against the wall and let him go.
Then I saw him notice his wet pants. Feigning ignorance, I said in my best little baby voice, 
“Aww, it looks like Tommy had a little accident!” 
and started giggling.
Just then,  I remembered my original reason for being there, calmed down and said,
“Well, I guess you’re gonna have to take care of it later.”
I paused after saying it. He stood there staring blankly at me. Then I remembered that he had no idea of my motive. So, I continued,
“I’ve always thought it’d be cool if I had someone to hold my water and towel for me while I worked out. Then I thought, hey! I have a sweet big brother who’d never miss an opportunity to help his gentle little sister out.”
Changing my expressionfrom a cute smile to stern, I continued,
“You’re gonna help me out with my morning routine.”
I paused to look at my watch.
“It’s currently 6:07 am. You have until 6:20 to go to the washroom, freshen up, get my workout towel, grab a water bottle and meet me outside the front door. A second late and I will personally come and drag you out. And I don’t need to tell you, you don’t want that. Now SCRAM!” I ended with a shout, startling him.
I’d never seen my brother move as fast as he ran out the door of his room.
Pleased with myself, I made my way down the stairs and out of the house. Of course what I told him was only partially true. Yes, it’d be cool to have someone give me water or a towel when I need it, but that wasn’t the biggest reason I wanted my brother there with me. You see, I wanted him to watch me workout. I knew that once I started, he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of me. My body took care of that. This gave me ample opportunity to show off my strength and prove to him that my muscles weren’t just for show. Maybe that’ll motivate him to show his true strength and try his hardest once we got to the next part of my plan. That, was what this morning was about: Show off. My brother needed to know that I was more than capable of handling myself.
I was going over all of this in my mind when saw the doorknob turn. I looked at my watch: 6:18. I was pleased to see that my brother hadn’t forgotten last night’s lesson: disobeying me would not go well for him. He came out, water bottle in one hand and towel in the other, and stood there looking at me, waiting for instructions. I decided to let him know how I felt.
“Before time! Good boy. Continue this behaviour and we won’t have any problems.”
I did actually have one problem. He was wearing those baggy clothes again. It was the middle of summer! I made a mental note to take care of that later.
For now, I began,
“I’m gonna warm up by running 10 laps around the block. Try to keep up as I might need water in between.”
With that I started running with him by my side. Of course he wasn’t going to be able to keep up, I’d proved time and time again that my legs were vastly superior to his. But that wasn’t my plan anyway.
Right off the bat I increased the pace of my running to a point where I knew, from past experience, that he wouldn’t be able to keep up. It was a little faster than I usually jogged, but hey today was all about show off!  It worked, I could feel the distance between us increasing. Gradually I got a good 20 steps ahead. Turning my head around, I shouted,
“Hey, slow poke! I thought I told you to keep up!”
God I loved to mess with his head. I saw him increase his speed. I knew that was basically his version of sprinting, and he’d be out of breath soon.
Meanwhile, I reached the first turn. I continued jogging until I was sure that there was no way he could see me. Then, I started sprinting. Now, usually I would’ve avoided sprinting as it’s an intensive workout and I didn’t want to be tired so early in the process. However, this was my regular jogging path and I knew sprinting one lap was piece of cake. Running as fast as I could, I quickly got past the second, third and fourth turns. I knew I could pull it off in under a minute! Soon, I got to the first turn again. Making the turn, I could see my brother in front of me. To his credit, he was still going. I had half expected him to give up by this point. However, he was running slower than what I would call a brisk walk, and looked like he would collapse at any second. Lowering my pace to a fast jog, I quickly caught up to my brother, and came up to his side. His eyes widened and I could tell he was surprised to see me. However it annoyed me when he didn’t say something. Apparently he still had that little smidgen of ego. I’ll see to that. For now, I decided to ignore it. Instead, I proclaimed, theatrically,
“Stop.”
He immediately stopped, although he was breathing hard. It was funny because I had completed more than an entire lap, sprinting, and I was barely out of breath.
Continuing with my dramatic tone, I said
“I should have known you wouldn’t be able to keep up with me. You don’t have these after all.”
I slapped my thigh as I said that. He flinched at the sound. I smiled. I loved how he got whenever he was forced to look at my legs. Trying my best to look disappointed, I said,
“Well, I guess I have no choice.”
With that I got in front of him and bowed down.
“Get on.”
In this position he couldn’t see my face, which was exploding with glee. I should’ve gotten an oscar for that performance.
I waited for him to grab hold of me, but nothing happened. Annoyed, I turned around and said,
“What’s the delay? Don’t you know how a piggyback ride works? Grab hold and don’t make me ask you again.”
Like always, it worked. He grabbed hold of my neck. With that, I stood up. Automatically, out of fear of falling I guess, his legs encircled my torso, with the towel and water bottle secured in his two pockets.
Without warning, I took off. Now I needed to complete 10 laps so I started jogging at my regular pace. I felt so powerful piggybacking my brother throughout the neighbourhood. I could feel him trembling on my back. I guess he was afraid I was going to drop him, even though I had proved, time and time again, that I was more than capable of handling his weight. When was he going to learn? I could see that, out of fear, he had wound his shaking legs around my stomach as tightly as he could. I say “see” and not “feel” because, with the combined power of my lats and abs, I barely felt anything. Well, that eliminated the possibility of a bodyscissor. I was quickly becoming sure that, at least in the legs department, I was invincible against him.
Keen on showing off, I actually tore through the 10 laps in a record time of 14 minutes. The workout turned out better than I had expected. With his added weight, the running didn’t just act as a warm up for the whole body, but actually gave a little bit of an extra pump to my legs, which felt great. After reaching the front of our house, I stopped. I could still feel him hanging on for dear life. Without a word I unwound his legs from my torso with my hands, and said,
“Time to get off!”
With that, he got off. Although he didn’t say anything, I could tell that he was shocked at the ease with which I had undone his “tightly” wounded legs, as if it was nothing. I decided to act nonchalant, but the fact was it actually had felt like exactly that, “nothing”.
I turned around, held out my hand, and
demanded,
“Towel.”
Quickly, almost as if his life depended out on it, he scrambled to get the towel out of his pocket and hand it over to me. I loved the effect my presence had on him, how he got fidgety at my most basal demands.
I quickly wiped off all the sweat I had accumulated. I started from my face, moved towards my chest and abs, and finally cleaned my legs one at a time.
With that, I threw the now sweaty towel at Tom. It landed on his face. Incredibly, he didn’t seem to mind, and quickly took it off his face and stood there holding it in his hand. Holding out my hand, I asked for water. Before I could finish my word my brother had taken out the bottle and placed it in my hand. I could get used to this kind of service. Holding the cheap plastic bottle above my head, I drank to my heart’s content. Once I was sure I full, I got an idea. I had seen some athletes do this on TV and thought it looked cool. With my hand, I crushed the bottle in the middle, thus spraying the remainder of the water on my face. Simultaneously, I shook my head from left to right. I didn’t know how it looked but it must’ve looked good judging from how my brother’s mouth was wide open. I’ll have to keep this in mind. Without a moment’s notice, I threw the bottle right at my brother’s face. It hit him square on his eyes and fell down to the ground. Ignoring the fact that he was holding his face in his hand, I dismissively stated
“Pick that up, it needs a refill.”
As he bent down, I checked the time on my watch: 6:42. Ahead of schedule. Awesome! Now, looking directly at him, I said
“You have two minutes. Meet me in my room with a fresh towel and a full bottle. Now leave.”
Weirdly, he didn’t. Instead he stood there shifting on his legs nervously. Had he not heard me?
“What” I barked, impatiently.
“Uhhh Lyza actually ummm”
“Yeah?” He was getting on my nerves.
“Umm I actually......don’t know where to......ummm find a new towel.”
Of course. The loser had never actually worked out enough to need a towel. Feeling playful, I took a step towards him  Looking horrified, he jumped back a few paces. Not wanting to waste more time, I said,
“In the laundry basket. You can keep them in your room from now on, you’ll be carrying them after all.”
With that I started walking towards the door. Weirdly, my idiot of a brother still hadn’t moved!  Growing terribly impatient, I turned around, and asked,
“Now what.”
“Oh umm I actually uhh”
I lost it. I went closer to him, grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down to eye level. Looking straight in his eyes, I said,
“Cut that out. You actually what? And I swear to God if I don’t get an answer straightaway I will forget that you’re my brother. ”
“I have to pee”
I lost it again. This time though, it wasn’t temper but it was laughter. I started laughing uncontrollably. I couldn’t believe that my older brother was scared to ask me to go to the bathroom! It was so funny!
Calming myself down I said,
“Didn’t you already do it in bed? How much peeing do you have to do? You were given two minutes. You’ve wasted one with your stupid question. Leave this second and use this minute wisely. It won’t be cool for you if you’re late.”
With that, his legs suddenly found unimaginable strength. He ran past me into the house. I quickly went up to my room and started counting down the second. He couldn’t get here sooner.
In its warmed up state, my body was ready for some real exercise.

At literally the 58th second, my brother came into my room, huffing and puffing like a maniac. I gotta admit, I was a little disappointed. I was kinda hoping for him to be late, it’s more fun that way. If he continued to be such a good assistant, it’ll be hard for me to find reasons to punish him. Oh well, I thought, I’m sure there’ll be more chances.
Usually, at this point, I would train one body part extensively. However, today was special. Today demanded a full body workout.
I decided to begin with the bar. As such, I went to the bar and stood under it, with my brother watching. Quickly, he put the water and towel down, came running behind me, bent down and gave me a boost. I hadn’t even asked him to do that yet! God I hate how considerate and efficient he was becoming. It was taking the fun out of ordering him around. To think that it was hard to get this same guy off his gaming chair until like a week ago, was unbelievable. At this rate, I’ll have to praise him again! I hated the thought of that. Once I was securely hanging from the bar, he dutifully went back to where he was, picked up his items and stood watching.
Annoyed by his sudden wave of competence, I decided to focus on the workout. I began with 30 pulls ups and 30 chin ups. Occasionally, I kept checking if my brother was watching. As expected, his eyes were glued to my form. Well better that then the computer screen.
After the chin ups I quickly transitioned into neck raises. I did 30 of them as well. I held the last one a little longer and turned to give my brother a knowing look. The last time he saw me do this hadn’t gone so well for him. His eyes met my eyes for a second before his head bowed down automatically. This thrilled me and annoyed me at the same time. The thrill came from the fact that I had this effect on him, and the annoyance came from his unconditional submissiveness. If he bowed his head every time I looked at him, how was I supposed to stare him down? Anyway, I needed his help for the next part of the workout.
“Keep an eye on the clock. Let me know when a minute has passed.” I announced. 
With that I did a lock off with my right hand. Since the clock was behind me, and the watch was on the hand that was holding me up, I couldn’t keep track of time.
“It’s done.” He said.
Immediately I brought my left arm up and looked at the time on my watch on the right hand. Crap! He had been exactly right! Why was he so accurate? I had literally never seen him be so dedicated, except perhaps to those stupid games of his. Then I did a minute long lock off with my left arm, this time keeping an eye on the watch myself.
Now for the show off part. I knew this was risky, I had never done anything like it and it seemed hard. However, I feel like I needed to teach him a lesson, even though he hadn’t done literally anything wrong. I can’t explain the feeling but I was irritated with him. This’ll teach him.
Continuing my excellent acting performance, I exclaimed,
“This is too easy! I need a challenge.”
With that, I turned my head towards him, looked him up and down, and said,
“I know, Get over here and stand behind me.”
Obedient as ever, my brother rushed to follow my instructions.
With him in position, I took a deep breath, and said,
“Now, jump and grab on to my torso.”
A moment later, I felt his entire weight on my back. Immediately, I began to struggle under the added weight. This was probably the most weight my arms had ever handled. Making sure that my voice was steady enough so has to not betray my struggle, I said,
“Now hold on tight and don’t let go, no matter what. I don’t want you screwing this up for me.”
With that, I took a deep breath again, made an mental note not to grunt during the process, and slowly, started pulling our bodies up.
This was much harder than what I had previously thought! Even harder than lugging that treacherous log around. I was glad that he couldn’t see my face, as I was sure my expression would betray weakness. I had to prove to my brother that my arms were capable of competing with his. By the time I ended my first pull up, I could feel my arms tiring. This wouldn’t work. I took a moment’s break to recuperate. That’s when I felt it. His entire body was shivering on my back! Feeling the effect I was having on Tom gave me just the adrenaline boost I needed to go through with it. Slowly, deliberately, I pumped out 4 more of those pull ups. I wanted to max out but I stopped myself. I couldn’t let myself get carried away with one exercise when there was so much more to come. Still hanging, I told him
“Get off.”
Immediately I felt the weight get back to normal. However, my arms were tired and needed rest. Not wanting to him to see my face, or show weakness, I quickly did a double spin on the bar, flew off, did a backflip midair, and landed gracefully on the floor. This was pretty standard move in gymnastics, but it was enough to impress my brother. With my back to him, he couldn’t see my face, which was breathing heavily because of my recent feat. I was proud of myself. I looked at my arms, they were the most pumped I had ever seen them. I had to know. Almost subconsciously, I flexed my arm. It rose to a softball shape. It was at least half a inch bigger than I had ever seen it. I felt pleased with myself.
Suddenly, a very audible gulp got me out of my trance. Unknowingly, I had put on a show, good enough to scare my big brother! I grinned.
As it stood, my arms were gonna need a few minutes to recuperate. I decided to use this time to play with my brother.
Still looking away from him, I said,
“You know, you should really think about my suggestion of eating more, if you are to be of any use to me during these workouts.”
I waited for a response. When none came, I went for the second attack.
Still facing away from him I said,
“Until then I will have to think of something else. You know, people at the gym told me that a punching bag was great for an arm workout. It’s a pity we don’t have one at home.”
I paused. Then, I said,
“Unless......”
And turned around with my most menacing smile and looked him directly in the eyes.
“A human punching bag could be a great replacement. What do you say?”
His reaction was better than anything I could’ve hoped for! I watched the colour literally drain from his face as his eyes widened and he started shivering. As I continued to glare at him, he fell down on his butt! This was completely on his own accord! I couldn’t believe I had made my brother so scared of me in such a short amount of time that he couldn’t support his own weight! I started laughing hysterically. Once I calmed down a bit, I said,
“Oh you sorry wimp! I was just kidding! Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you unless I have to.”
I saw relief wash over him, which led to even more fits of hysterical laughter on my side. My arms were still recovering, so I decided to use this time to take care of a problem that had been bugging me for so long. Looking down at him, (I loved it when he was in a position that caused me to look down at him.), I said,
“Hey you know what’s unfair? I am standing here, almost naked, with basically all my body visible for you to see. You on the other hand, are wearing those baggy trousers and full sleeved T-shirt. This makes me feel inadequate.”
I looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to make a move. Instead he just kept looking back at me blankly. Annoyed by his sheer inability to take a hint, I decided to go for a more direct approach.
“Stand up at take off your clothes.”
He immediately stood up, but kept standing there. Yes! Disobedience, finally!
Feeling vindicated, I glared at him, smiled, and said,
“You know I could take it off of you myself if I want”
That, as always, made him see reason. Hurriedly, he shuffled to take off his pants and T-shirt. He had nothing else on underneath, except for a lousy white underwear .
I almost gasped at the sight in front of me. My surprise was not by his frame. It was pretty much what I had expected it to be. He was basically a walking bag of skin and bones, barely covering more area than a human sized stick figure. His arms, weirdly, looked as much like toothpicks as his legs. If I hadn’t known better, I wouldn’t have believed that those arms were capable of lifting 12 kgs for reps. I guess age played a much greater role than muscles when it came to strength.
What almost made be gasp wasn’t any of that though. It wasn’t his protruding ribs, and pale skin. It was, in fact, a large black spot in the middle of his stomach, just above the navel.
It was dark colour. Some kind of a combination of dark blue, black and chocolate brown. It covered almost a third of his stomach. The skin in that area looked, it’s hard to explain, like raw. You know, like recently tanned leather. Yup that was it. It looked like it was the exact same shade and texture as Mom’s leather purse. I couldn’t help wondering what it was until I noticed something else. Smack dab in the centre of the spot, almost like an engraving, just like an artist inscribes his initials on his works, there was the mark of a fist. A really small fist at that. As soon as I noticed that, I knew exactly what the spot was and exactly what caused it. You see, it wasn’t a spot at all, it was a bruise.  A pretty large bruise at that, almost the size of my head. I couldn’t believe that one punch from me had caused that. It was a wonder that my brother was able to bend at all. Suddenly the reason for all his wheezing and vomiting, as well as his newly acquired obedient streak became obvious. Anyone would be scared after getting hurt that badly. I felt a tinge of guilt. But, wait. Why should I feel guilty? He was the one who made me angry. He disrespected me by making me feel like I couldn’t take his full strength.  I had to show him what he was up against! Moreover, who told him to just workout his arms? I had worked hard to get my abs and I was proud of them. If he had a soft flab instead of hard muscle, that was on him. Yes, it was not my fault, it was his. In hindsight, that punch, while it occurred out of a place of anger, was necessary to get my brother to give me the respect I deserve.
Trying my hardest to not let my face betray my surprise, I decided to nonchalantly acknowledge the bruise, (which was, and I can’t stress this enough, his fault and not mine).
“You might wanna put some ointment on that. It’ll only get worse if you don’t.”
Yup, that was the adequate amount of sympathy. Anymore consideration would be a sign of weakness.
He just kept standing there, bowing his head in shame. I hated myself for feeling guilt for hurting him. And I hated him for making me feel that way. Humiliating him was the only option to win back my dominance.
“Don’t you have something you want to say to me?”
As expected, the idiot had no response.
“Get over here.”
Using his signature terrified pace, my wimp of a brother made his way towards me.
Once he was standing in front of me, I grabbed him by the hand and forced him to turn with me towards the mirror.
When I saw him bowing his head and not looking into the mirror, I reached up, grabbed his chin, and forced his head up. Then I said,
“See with your own eyes big brother.”
The difference between our bodies was startling. Even unflexed, my legs dwarfed his in terms of size.  My forearm was literally thicker than his biceps. Where he had bones, I had pecs. Where he had flab and that giant bruise, I had taut, perfect abs. Hell, even my neck was twice as thick as his. This sight made me gain back my lost confidence. Almost in a trance, I commanded,
“Flex, big brother.”
He lifted up his arm and flexed. I say “flexed” in the loosest meaning of the term. Literally nothing happened. In contrast, I flexed my entire body. Muscles popped out literally everywhere. I felt so powerful, like I could do literally whatever I wanted to him without even working hard. One look at all of his limbs and I was sure I could snap any of them like twigs. My brother meanwhile, looked like he had achieved new levels of shame and fear. This made me feel good. I wished I could take a picture, but that would’ve spoiled the momentum of the situation. Instead I asked him,
“What do you see brother?”
Without waiting for his response, which I knew wasn’t coming, I continued.
“You know what? I don’t care what you see. Let me tell you what I see. I see two people. Let’s call them Weakling and Mistress. Mistress could break the Weakling into tiny little pieces without breaking a sweat. Weakling knows this very well. Now tell me, if Mistress is gracious enough to take pity on Weakling, and offer a solution to his pain, what should Weakling do?”
I paused. Sensing his inability to speak, I continued.
“I’ll tell you. Weakling should thank Mistress for her graciousness and kiss her feet for her immense generosity. If Weakling fails to follow such basic courtesy, is  Mistress wrong to be very, very angry?”
With that I went into a crab flex.
Before I could see his face, my brother was down on his knees, begging.
“I’m so sorry for my impudence. Thank you for your generosity. You’re the kindest person I know.”
God I loved how he begged. Where had he learned how to do that? Without a word I signalled towards my feet with my eyes.
Almost instantly, he started showering my feet with kisses, bringing back the tingling
feeling from yesterday. I was mesmerised for a few minutes before a beeping from watch got me back to reality. It was already 7:30! Only half an hour left for my parents to wake up. Thank God I had set an alarm. Almost panicking, I lifted my foot and kicked him across the cheek to dismiss him. I might’ve kicked a little too hard because he went sliding across the floor into the wall. Oops. Well I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I had to continue my workout.
“Water”, I said.
He scrambled to his feet and rushed to hand me the bottle. I drank two huge gulps and threw the bottle in his direction.
Quickly, I dropped down and started my push ups. After completing my regular 100, I quickly did 20 one armed and 20 diamond ones. Then I asked him to get on my back. After 35 push ups with him on my back I decided that was enough for arms. With him still on my back, I stopped in a plank position, thus transitioning to abs. While my regular record was 8 minutes, I intended to last at least 4 with him on my back. As we waited, I had an idea. If all went right, my brother wouldn’t be standing on the ground for the next half hour. As the time neared 4 minutes, I told my brother to stand up on my back.
As soon as the time got over, I told my brother to jump.
When I felt his weight left my back, I turned around, laid on my back and lifted both my feet into the air, straight. It took some manoeuvring, but I was able to balance my brother’s body with my legs without letting his feet touch the ground. Once my brother was secure, proceeded to do 200 crunches while he had a bird’s eye view of my abs. It was fun to see his expression. It was clear he’d prefer to be literally anywhere else in the world. To his credit, he didn’t dare give me any trouble and kept laying there like a statue, although I was sure that his bruise was hurting because of his position. Oh well, he brought that on himself.
Once I was done with my crunches, it was time for legs. Placing my arms on his chest, I balanced him on those while I removed my legs. Taking care that his feet didn’t touch the ground, I carefully stood up, lifting him over head.
“Get on my shoulders”
He gratefully climbed down and sat on my shoulders. I could tell that he was much more comfortable on my shoulders than he had been a few minutes I earlier. I started doing squats but it actually was too easy. I needed more. I had an idea. Carrying him on my shoulders, I went to his room. I picked up his dumbbells, raised both of them to 14 kgs and handed them over to him. I could feel him resting them on my shoulders. I guess his position made it harder to hold them in his arms. I didn’t mind. The added 28 kgs were finally a worthy challenge for my legs. I wish he had let me use them sooner, but I wasn’t allowed to touch them. Well now if I wanted I could just forbid him from using them. I won’t, but I could. He should be grateful for that.
Anyway, so I quickly did 80 squats with that weight followed by 120 walking lunges around his room. All the while my brother enjoyed his seat on my back. With that, the workout session was over. Without warning, I grabbed my brother’s butt (it was so small and squishy! I couldn’t resist.) and launched him, basically throwing him onto his bed. The uncoordinated wuss bounced off of his bed and fell on to the ground. The funniest part was he almost seemed grateful that he could feel the hard floor again. I took the remaining water from him and quickly finished it off. My muscles required hydration. Just then I heard some commotion downstairs. I checked my watch. 8 am. My mom was up right on time, as always. For the first time in 15 minutes I addressed my brother.
“Change your sheets and hide these. You will wash them yourself later. Mom shouldn’t find out about your little accident, she’ll have follow up questions. Is that clear?”
I was getting irritated by his inability to reply.
“From now on, if I ask you something I need an answer. Consider this your final warning. Now I’ll say it again.  Is that clear?”
“YES.” He shouted. I quickly put my hand on his mouth and waited. No one came. Thank god mom hadn’t heard him. Removing my hand, I gave him a tight slap. He had to learn, and this was the quickest way I could think of.
“Listen you piece of shit. Talk like a human being, not a fucking Gorilla.”
Usually I wasn’t one to swear. Not only that, I was too young to swear. But this time my anger had gotten the better of me. I took a deep breath to calm down. Then I continued,
“Once you’re done with the sheets, I want you to sit down at your desk and wait.  When mom comes in to wake you up, make up some excuse about wanting to play one of your stupid games. We don’t want her getting suspicious now do we?”
“No” he said timidly.
“Good. You learn fast.”
“Now remember, when I say ‘sit at your desk’ I mean just sit. No playing games. At least not until I feel you’ve earned some time on your computer. That would depend both on your behaviour and on my generosity. Right now, I’m unimpressed.”
With that I made my way to the door, turned around and said,
“Screw any of this up and you’ll know what real pain is.” Then, smiling sweetly, I said,
“Good morning, big brother. See you at breakfast.” And blew him a kiss.

God I loved how my brain worked in these situations.

[john jonh]

great chapter!
and i must say that i would like very much to see this chapter on the POV of the brother haha
i like the choice 3), but if you think its better for your writing pace, 2) would be cool too.

you could also change POVs during the narrative, i mean, with no need to tell under the girl POV and then re-tell everything under the other one. you could just when necessary change the POV to say something...

[phil123]

I would be fine with option 2 . Still POV and we could imagine what the other would think/feel.

[assassinua]

Good continuation I had few different ideas but didn't have time at all so feel free to continue as you see fit

[giantgirl7foot2]

Great chapter! K+!

I'd also say option 2 as it gives you most freedom in how you feel it should continue, and I'm also in favour of getting progression more quickly.

[Aadi]

Good continuation I had few different ideas but didn't have time at all so feel free to continue as you see fit

OMG I can’t believe you actually replied! Huge fan of your work really! Thanks for giving your blessing. Also, I believe I speak on behalf of everyone when I say we’d absolutely love for you to pick up where you left off and tell the story you wanted to tell, if you have any time at all. I’m not saying I’ll stop writing my own version, but I really want to see where you were going to go with your creation.

[wowser1016]

I really enjoy how you have handled the continuation of the story. It is also nice to see the seal of approval from the originator. As far as I am concerned it is your story so write it any way you want. I am going to read it regardless. K+!

[john jonh]

very excited for the next chapter

[Aadi]

Hey guys, so I decided to continue with the original format, as that’s the only way to actually keep all of you satisfied.
Also, I’ve started to write custom stories for commissions, so do PM me if you’re interested!
Thank you for al the support you’ve shown to this story. I’ll try to continue this story as much as I csn, but if you want any exclusive content featuring the same characters or anything else you have in mind that you want me to give a shot, that's what the commissions are for! Anyway, without further ado, enjoy!

Brother

All I could see was darkness. I kept running, trying to figure out where I was, but got nowhere. Then, seemingly from afar, I heard it. Laughter. The voice kept getting louder, as if it were coming closer and soon I started hearing footsteps as well. Unlike a maniacal laughter, like a monster or movie villain would have, this was more of a girlish giggle. For some reason, this giggle filled me with dread. It seemed familiar, but I just couldn’t place it. The footsteps got closer, and in the distance I saw a figure walking slowly towards me, giggling with glee. Squinting my eyes, i was finally able to see who it was, my annoying little sister, Lyza. She was walking straight towards me, staring at me, and giggling hysterically. Her giggle, instead of feeling innocent or annoying, somehow felt condescending, as if she was laughing at me! What was up with that? I’ll have to teach the little twerp a lesson soon. But what was she laughing at? I followed her gaze, and looked down at my belly. I realised that I wasn’t wearing anything except my underwear, and, more shockingly, there was a large gaping hole, where my gut should’ve been. Instinctively, I used my hand, to try to feel something there, but it passed straight through, there was nothing there! Bewildered I looked up. Lyza was now standing in front of me, still giggling. Without losing sight of the hole in my belly, she lifted up her right hand, and grabbing a hole of the collar of her white top, tore it right off! Looking at her body, which she clearly loved to display, I remembered everything. I felt so ashamed standing in front of her without clothes on, I quickly covered my chest with my hands. I now knew why her laughter felt so terrifying, and the cause for the hole. I didn’t want her to create any more of those because she felt like it. And with her baseball sized muscles, I had no doubt that she could. Still laughing, she went into a crab flex. Instantly, she started growing. Not growing as in her muscles got bigger. Growing as in GROWING. He legs grew taller until she was eye level with me, and then shot past me. Her lats grew so wide that she covered my entire field of view. When she stopped, she was over 20 feet tall and her muscles had grown proportionally. I barely stood eye level with her upper calves. Her feet were the size of a fishing boat. One of her pecs was bigger than my entire body. Slowly she ended her crab flex and stood there satisfied, her laughter now booming in my ear like a giant’s. I remembered thinking that Lyza could crush me under my feet, and now she literally could! I remember thinking that she was superhuman, and now she was! She bent down to one knee, and with just her index finger and thumb, picked me up as if to examine me. Just then I heard a stream flowing somewhere nearby, were we in the mountains? It was hard to tell since everything was dark. Still holding me, she stood up straight. Now I was eye level with her abs. The size that they were now, they actually reminded me of a mountain range. Without warning, Lyza whipped me towards her abs and I se them transform in front of me, into actual mountains and ridges. Before I knew it, I was standing on a seemingly very real mountain cliff, with my legs partially underwater. I could still hear the laughter ringing in my ears. Turning around to investigate, I saw that I was inside the lagoon caused by a waterfall. This must’ve been where sound was coming from. Before I could catch my bearings, the ground started shaking, as if in rhythm with the laughter, like an earthquake. The waterfall’s current suddenly grew more violent. It was as if the ground I was standing on began to tilt. Unable to maintain my balance, I fell over the cliff, plunging to my death. I kept falling and falling and falling and..........

I awoke with a thud. Groggily, I tried to recall my dream but it was hazy. Just then I heard the voice that had been a continuous presence in said dream. 
“Rise and Shine Tommy!”
No one had called me that in god knows how many years. The anger was enough to bring me to the present. The first thing I realised was that I was on the floor. Had Lyza picked me up and threw me to the floor? She was certainly capable of doing that. Then I turned to the other side and saw my bed going from a slanted position, back down to the floor. Had she really lifted my entire bed along with my weight on top of it? The thought was surreal yet jolting. I saw outside the window and saw that it was barely morning. Then I saw her standing above me. I did what needed to be done and told her that I needed sleep.
She reallllllyyy didn’t seem to like that.
Faster than my brain could process , I was being lifted to my feet and slapped harder than I ever had been (well except last night). That was enough to drive the sleep and the ringing laughter out of my mind. The first thing that I noticed was that my feet were dangling. I didn’t want to be in this position, so naturally, my hands immediately went to her hand holding me up. In return for my futile efforts, she banged me against the wall and let me fall. I hated this, it felt like last night never ended.
Up until now I had had other things to worry about, so I had attributed the wetness in my pants to the waterfall. Now, standing on my feet for the first time since waking up, my Brain finally caught up. I registered the fault in my original theory, and looked down to see the actual source of wetness. I felt my cheeks burn red hot as I realised that my little sister had caused me to wet myself.
Apparently, Lyza realised it at the same moment too, and did what I’d begun to expect at this point from her, humiliate me even more.

“Aww, it looks like Tommy had a little accident!” 

She sounded so patronising, but of course I couldn’t say or do anything. I just stood there as she laughed.

“Well, I guess you’re gonna have to take care of it later.”

She looked at me as if she expected me to do something. After a pause, she continued.

“I’ve always thought it’d be cool if I had someone to hold my water and towel for me while I worked out. Then I thought, hey! I have a sweet big brother who’d never miss an opportunity to help his gentle little sister out.”

I couldn’t tell if she was joking or did she actually want me to become her water boy. That wouldn’t have been the worst thing, except that her workouts would be a constant reminder of her superiority, and that’s not something I wanted. Then her expression became stern, and her teasing became orders.
 
“You’re gonna help me out with my morning routine.”
She paused to look at her watch.
“It’s currently 6:07 am. You have until 6:20 to go to the washroom, freshen up, get my workout towel, grab a water bottle and meet me outside the front door. A second late and I will personally come and drag you out. And I don’t need to tell you, you don’t want that. Now SCRAM!”

They say that your life flashes by your eyes at the moment of your death. While not the same, I did experience something similar as I processed all that information.
6:07 am?! No wonder I felt so tired. I had barely slept for 3 hours, and that too after one of the most physically and mentally harrowing days of my life. Why did she have to wake up so early? With a start I realised that my original plans of going to my friends’ before she woke up were out of the window. I figured that best course of action would be just to go along with her demands quietly until the opportunity to escape presents itself. Then, I registered her instructions, and went over what seemed like an impossible task once in my mind. I was about to protest, but it died in my throat as I registered her threat and shout. I know you think that I’m a loser, but trust me, when someone, anyone, who’s capable of beating the shit out or you, and has demonstrated that time and time again, threatens you, you won’t be able to stand up to them too!
I flinched at her shout and ran out of the room, working purely on adrenaline. I only had 13 minutes. I literally brushed my teeth, while on the pot and then took of my clothes. It hurt. I looked in the mirror to see that the bruise on my belly had turned raw, and now hurt with the slightest stretch of the skin. I wanted to put something on it but didn’t have the time. I also noticed the hand prints on my cheeks were still visible. Just wonderful. I couldn’t throw my pants into the laundry so I just threw them on the floor and showered for
10 seconds. My back hurt really bad but the adrenaline was still going strong. Getting out of the shower, I took my pants hid them under my bed, put on new clothes and checked the time. 6:15. I was hysterical. I ran to her room and thankfully found a dry towel lying there. Grabbing it I ran to the kitchen, grabbed her water bottle, and filled it, spilling water all over the place in the process. I didn’t have the time to deal with that for now. I didn’t have a watch on me but seeing as she hadn’t “dragged me out” yet I must still have time. I ran out the front door.
Lyza was standing there in the same workout clothes, smiling at me.

“Before time! Good boy. Continue this behaviour and we won’t have any problems.”

Her words caused a sensation within me that for a second felt alien. It had been so long since I’d come close to feeling it.

Pride.

Why though? Had my threshold for pride lessened to such a degree over the past few days? Was I such a big loser that I felt proud for not giving my much younger sister a reason to beat the crap out of me? Or did I feel proud because I had compelled Lyza to offer me the same praise she would to a dog for obeying her?  (Then again, I had also obeyed her to the letter) Both of those options were pathetic, but it did feel good getting approval from my otherwise cruel little sister.

“I’m gonna warm up by running 10 laps around the block. Try to keep up as I might need water in between.”

Hadn’t she proved already that she was faster than me? However, hell bent on appeasing her, I started running at her side. My bruise hurt with every step, and the adrenaline was wearing off now.
I managed to stay at her side for a grand total of 5 seconds before she got ahead. From behind her I could see those diesel legs pumping with power. Her calves exploded with every bounce while her thighs somehow seemed bigger than my torso. Of course I had firsthand experience of her thighs from when she had knocked me out with them the previous night. My head still hurt from being effectively crushed.
I tried to keep up but the distance just kept on increasing. Eventually she must’ve realised that I was falling behind, so she turned around and said,

“Hey, slow poke! I thought I told you to keep up!”

It still amazed me how quickly our roles had changed. She seemed to be completely fine with calling me names and giving orders, it came naturally to her. I, on the other hand, could think of nothing scarier than making her mad. Not wanting to provoke her, I started running as fast as my battered body could carry itself.
It didn’t really work. She kept going farther and farther away, an no boost of energy from my side seemed to close the distance between us. For my part, I really was trying as hard as I could, on the off chance that she turned around, saw that I was not putting in effort and decided to dish out one of her fists.
Eventually I saw her turn and disappear from my view. I still kept up my speed.  She had to tire, going that fast. I was sure that she would stop to rest and I’d catch up with her soon enough.
I made my first turn too. Surprisingly, I couldn’t see her. Had she entered one of the houses? Or was she resting at the next turn? I wasn’t sure I would be able to keep running at this speed until the next turn. My legs were killing me at this point. They hadn’t really been okay ever since my sister had tortured them in front of her friends. Combine that with 3 hours of sleep, and they weren’t really ready to run in the first place. As such, my speed started decreasing. I kept trying to will my body to keep going forward, huffing and puffing, but my legs started rejecting me. In my mind I was running with all my might, but in reality you could barely call my pace a jog.
Just when I felt my legs were about to give way, I saw my sister running beside me. For a second I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. Perhaps this was another dream. I blinked twice to get rid of it. Try as I might, I could still see her running beside me, almost poised to overtake me again. My eyes widened as I came to terms with what had happened. My sister had completed an entire lap of our block before I could complete half of it! And she wasn’t even breathing hard! The only thing she had to show for her effort was the sheen from the layer of sweat that now covered her muscle packed body. This just made her look all the more beautiful and radiant! She kept jogging next to me nonchalantly. Did she not know the magnitude of what she had just accomplished? Especially considering I had beaten her in a race just a few days prior.  Her “no big deal” attitude annoyed me. I wanted to say something. Tell her how amazed I was at her feat.  Make her acknowledge how she had creamed me. Basically make her say that she still thought of me as a big brother, and that it made her happy to have destroyed me again, instead of treating this situation as nothing out of the ordinary. The latter implied that she didn’t consider me as competition, or even equal.
However I was at a loss of words. Saying anything could only lead to two things:
Me looking pitiful and ashamed by praising my sister for decimating me and/or me getting pulverised because of saying the wrong thing. So I stayed silent.
Eventually she said, louder than necessary,
“Stop.”
My grateful legs happily obliged.  I was feeling vindicated as well. Finally, she had gotten tired, that’s what happens when you begin a jog that fast. Catching my breath, I looked at her smiling face. She looked so cute, yet I had begun to fear that smile.

“I should have known you wouldn’t be able to keep up with me. You don’t have these after all.” , she said in the same loud over the top voice, the way kids do when trying to act.  Then she slapped her mammoth thigh, causing me to look at it, and cringe involuntarily.
It looked so silly to see her behaving like the 9 year old she was. Except, as her thigh display reminded me, this 9 year old had the body most 20 year olds would die for, and pointing out her silliness might trigger her enough to use that body. Anyway, I knew she was just saying it because she couldn’t go on herself and wanted to pin the blame on me. I didn’t mind that as long as we were resting.
Then she said, in a tone that was something between exasperated, disappointed and comical,

“Well, I guess I have no choice.”

I didn’t get what she meant by that. Then she did something truly strange. She got in front of me and bowed down, with her back to me. Was this Gymnasts’ way of resting their legs? Looked uncomfortable to me.

“Get on.”

I gasped as I realised what was happening. I couldn’t believe it. Did she really want me to get on her back? After being so tired by running around the block at full speed? I thought that this was another one of her childish games to impress me with her strength. Well she might’ve been strong, but as the more mature person, I knew she wouldn’t be able to support both of our weights on her tired legs, and both of us could end up getting hurt in the process. So, I stayed put, wondering what to say so as to not cross her. Then, she turned around, giving me one of her classic “I could destroy you without breaking a sweat” looks, and said,

“What’s the delay? Don’t you know how a piggyback ride works? Grab hold and don’t make me ask you again.”

That did it. At least we’ll both get hurt if I get on her. Plus, any injury caused by falling on the Tarmac would be better than what she would do to me otherwise.
I wrapped by hand around her neck. Before I could figure out how to wrap my legs around such a small body, she stood up with my bodyweight. Instinctively, not wanting to fall, I wrapped my legs around her hard torso, which didn’t give an inch.
Satisfied with her load, she took off.
I kept waiting for her to fall down out of sheer exhaustion but she kept going! In fact, she was actually running faster than I had when no one had been on my back.
I, on the other hand, was scared shitless. You know the feeling when you’re a little kid riding a motorcycle, and the driver speeds up just to scare you? Imagine that, but 5000 times more uncomfortable. For one thing, the hard lumps of her back muscles constantly kept brushing against my bruise, thus causing a steady infliction of pain. Secondly, while she didn’t show any signs of slowing down, I was afraid of losing my grip and falling on the Tarmac. I was sure she would keep running even if it meant dragging my limp body along on the ground. So, I held on with both my arms and my legs as hard as I could. Neither her neck nor her abs gave way, but I was sure I was hurting her. I had never squeezed anyone as hard as I was then, and I was afraid of what she’ll do to take revenge for this once I get off.

Holding on for dear life, and groaning from the pain in my belly, I watched as she completed a lap. Soon, it became 2. What kind of powerhouse was my sister? She didn’t even acknowledge my weight, or even talked while she ran, as if this was just her usual morning run.
2 became 3, then 4, then 5 and soon, faster than I could ever dream of doing it, she completed a full 10 laps with me on her back. Needless to say, it was both humiliating, and awe inspiring.

When were at our house, she grabbed hold of my legs, and I feared that she was going to punish me for squeezing her too tight. Instead, she unwound the hardest hold I was capable of applying, like it was putty!
Then she said,

“Time to get off!”

Without hesitation, I got off. It felt so nice to have my feet touch stable ground that I almost didn’t notice her hold her hand out and demand a towel. She didn’t say “Please can I have the towel” or even “Give me the towel”. Instead she just said the word , “Towel.” 
Somehow that made her look more intimidating. Of course, after what she had just done, intimidating was sort of her thing.
Even though it hurt to move, I quickly got the towel out of my pocket and handed it to her, timidly. She seemed so haughty, standing there in her revealing clothes, sweating all over the place.
Then, she proceeded to wipe herself off. Now, usually, I wouldn’t have given it much thought, but in my current state of mind, I thought that this display was for my benefit, and watched intently. She began with her face, going downwards. She made sure that she rubbed each and every muscle on her body dry, and I was mesmerised by the way her muscles resisted any movement. As she rubbed her abs, you could see them twitch and change patterns to push out more sweat beads for the towel.  Then she towelled off each of her legs, one by one. The enormous hand towel took 3 wipes to cover the entirety of one of her thighs. 
By the time she was done, the once dry towel was completely soaked with sweat.
Without warning, she threw the towel at me, and it landed on my face. Immediately I was engulfed in the musky and pungent odour of her sweat. Instead of being revolting, it somehow felt right. Like a lesser mortal like me was fortunate to be able to breathe in the sweat of my goddess of a little sister. This nine year old’s body could produce more sweat in a 20 minute run that my pathetic body could in a month.
I took off the towel, to see her holding out her hand for water. As I handed over the bottle, I realised that my sister had just run 10 laps around the block without even asking for water. I wondered if she had any limits. Holding it over her head, she  proceeded to drink at least a litre of water in one go, right in front of my eyes. Transfixed, I kept watching as she did something that would’ve definitely looked undeniably hot if she wasn’t a preteen. She crushed the bottle with one hand, and in the process, sprayed herself with a shower of water, all the while swaying her head from left to right. To her, it might’ve been a way to cool off. To me, it just made her newly wet muscles shine under the sunlight, thus amplifying the goddess appeal.
Then I saw the bottle coming at me.
Without time to react, I barely registered my own open mouth the bottle hit me on my left eye. Although it seemed like she hadn’t put any effort in the throw, or targeted it in any particular way, it stung like hell. I wondered if I had just received my very first shiner (I hadn’t, yet.)
I started rubbing my eye with my hand, trying to ease the pain. (I didn’t realise it at the time, but this was the first time I’d ever stop blaming my sister for hurting me and just accept it as a fact of life. Those occurrence would become more and more common later.)
Her consequent comment perhaps hurt more than the injury itself.

“Pick that up, it needs a refill.”

The sad part is, instead of dwelling on the fact that she didn’t acknowledge what she had just done, I just simply bent down and picked the now crushed bottle up.

As I stood up, she had me locked in one of her penetrating gazes. She said,

“You have two minutes. Meet me in my room with a fresh towel and a full bottle. Now leave.”

Once again my brain went into overdrive. My first reaction was, obviously, shock at her desire to workout more  after what had just transpired. For most people a quarter of that run, with no extra weight, would be considered a pretty gruelling ordeal. Of course, my sister wasn’t most people.
After her most recent, apparently, not-meant-to-be-display of strength and superiority, I was basically a bag of nerves in her presence. Disobedience was out of question. Something else worried me, and I couldn’t leave without consulting her. But as I looked at her, my throat became incapable of producing sound, and I just stood there, thinking what to do.

“What” she said forcefully, almost making me jump.
Her aggressiveness meant only one thing, I had to speak.
“Uhhh Lyza actually ummm”
What the hell was wrong with me? It was valid concern and I just had to voice it.
“Yeah?” I could see her getting angrier by the second, and her face turned the same shade it had during our ‘abs punching competition’.
I HAD TO SPEAK!!!!!!
““Umm I actually......don’t know where to......ummm find a new towel.”
Hearing this she suddenly stepped towards me. Terrified, I jumped back, and considered the quickest way to escape in the next second.
However, instead of attacking, she just said,

“In the laundry basket. You can keep them in your room from now on, you’ll be carrying them after all.”

I did recall a pile of towels in the laundry basket. “Stupid! There was no reason to bother Lyza with your question” I thought to myself. Then I felt ashamed of thinking it.
Of course there was also the other problem. You see, bumping up and down on hard rock like muscles for 20 minutes straight can errrr stimulate your bladder. This one was going to be much harder to explain. Then I saw Lyza beginning to walk towards the door.
Probably sensing something wrong, she turned around and, looking more impatient than ever, said,
“Now what?”
Nerve wracking as it was, I had to tell her.

“Oh umm I actually uhh”

WHEN DID IT BECOME SO HARD TO FORM A PROPER SENTENCE?

Lyza’s face turned a shade of purple, and she finally pounced. Moving lightning fast as she always did, she came closer to me, grabbed my collar and shoved me down so I was looking straight into her eyes. I saw pure rage in them.

“Cut that out. You actually what? And I swear to God if I don’t get an answer straightaway I will forget that you’re my brother. ”

It’s funny the kind of thoughts you get when you are about to be killed by your little sister. My first thought was ‘So you mean, these past few days you’ve been treating me like a brother?’

Of course I didn’t say it.
Instead, as a last ditch attempt to save my life, my body finally said the words I had been willing it to say since the beginning.

“I have to pee.”

Letting go of my tshirt, she started laughing hysterically. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out why. The idea that her older brother was asking her to go to pee was obviously funny to her, as it would be to anyone, except for the brother in question of course.
Calming down, she said,

“Didn’t you already do it in bed? How much peeing do you have to do? You were given two minutes. You’ve wasted one with your stupid question. Leave this second and use this minute wisely. It won’t be cool for you if you’re late.”

Oh shit, she had started the countdown after her first order. It seemed beyond impossible to do everything I needed to. Adrenaline kicked in again, survival instinct is a magical phenomenon. My brain mapped out the best possible route to do all tasks.

Running faster than I thought I could, or probably faster than even Lyza could (though I wouldn’t put it past her) I ran down the stairs to the basement and, knocking over the laundry basket, grabbed a towel and rushed back up. I could hear Lyza ascending the stairs above me. My bladder was on the verge of bursting. Trying not to think about that, I ran to the kitchen, almost slipping on the spilt water. I quickly grabbed one of the already filled bottles and carried both of them up the stairs to the bathroom. I reached and pulled down my pants just in the nick of time as the urine burst out. Of course there was no way to pee faster, so I used this time to transfer the water from the filled bottle to the newly crushed one. Leaving the second bottle in the bathroom, I reached her room, breathing heavily. I was fairly certain that I hadn’t been able to make it, but at least I’d tried my best. Muttering prayers under my breath, I entered. There was a moment of hesitation because of the prospect of an ass whooping and/or the lack of knocking. I decided to waive both of those concerns off as doing it any other way would just ignite her wrath further.
She looked visibly disappointed. For a moment I thought I was a goner. Then, without a word she turned around and started walking. I was over the moon! Not only had I made it on time, but she had also forgotten about punishing me for not knocking! Strangely, almost ironically, this fact made me feel lucky.
She went under that wretched bar and stood under it. Of course I knew what to do, the memory from yesterday will probably always be fresh in my mind.
I kept the bottle and towel down and went over to her to give her a boost.
Making sure she was hanging on her own, I let go of her and went back and picked up my items.
As I stood watching (what else could I do? Look at her “my little pony” posters?), she fished out 30 pull ups and chin ups. For any other person, this would‘ve been super impressive. For Lyza I knew that this was nothing.
Then she did 30 neck raises. Once she was done she held the last one a little longer, and turned towards me. Did she always do this after neck raises? The sight reminded me of the first time she’d ordered me around by herself. It seemed like so long ago, even though it hadn’t even been 24 hours.
I naturally looked down, not able to match her superior gaze.

“Keep an eye on the clock. Let me know when a minute has passed.” I heard her say.
Immediately I looked at her Disney princess clock and made a mental note of the time. How could she be so girly yet so dangerous? Of course in contrast to all the girly stuff were her shelf full of hundreds of gymnastics medals and trophies.
Saying that, she pulled herself up with just one hand and held herself there. I knew, from taking Lyza to gymnastics practice, that this was called a lock off. I always assumed that this was easier for little girls because of their bodyweight. Recent experiences had made me revise that opinion and the feat seemed much more impressive. I told her as soon as a minute had passed.
Then, she did the same with the other arm, not asking me to keep track of the time this time.
Once she was done, she said, loudly and dramatically,

“This is too easy! I need a challenge.”

I didn’t get what she meant by a challenge. Then she turned towards me, again and looked me up and down, as if sizing me up for meat. Then she beckoned me towards her. Not knowing what she had in mind, I did as she said. Then, she commanded,

“Now, jump and grab on to my torso.”

Internally, I debated my next move. Hanging on to her would surely result in tragedy. On the other hand my sister needed to know her limits, so maybe I should make this sacrifice. In any case, disobeying her would result in an even bigger tragedy so I didn’t have a choice really.
So, I jumped and grabbed on. It must’ve looked silly, a much taller guy hanging on to the abdomen of a much smaller girl, completely at her mercy.
Incredibly, she didn’t immediately let go! Instead of falling flat on our faces, we kept hanging, with her supporting both of our weights using just her arms. As I was counting the seconds before she finally let go, she said,

“Now hold on tight and don’t let go, no matter what. I don’t want you screwing this up for me.”

I was flabbergasted. Not by what she said, I wasn’t going to let go anyway. It was how she said it. Her voice sounded so calm and steady, as if she was speaking while taking a walk in the park. Was my weight really so light for her? Moreover what did she mean by screwing this up?
How long did she intend to keep hanging like that?

Then she did something that I hadn’t thought was possible, in my wildest dreams. I saw her arms tighten even more as her muscles contracted. Seeing the grip she had on the iron bar, I thought that she would end up denting it. Then I got that thought out of my head, realising how stupid it was. That’s when I looked down, and saw the ground getting further and further away. My heart started pounding as I processed what was happening. My sister completed one whole smooth pull up (that’s one more than I could under normal circumstances) with me hanging on for dear life. I couldn’t take it. Involuntarily, my entire body started shaking, in awe and fear of the power that my little sister had. I wanted to let go but my body no longer obeyed me. My sister, in that moment, had complete control over all my actions. So I held on.
Still not tired, my sister kept going. Up, down, up, down. She was cranking out pull-ups as if I was nothing more than the clothes on her back. While she was “working out” I made a quick mental calculation. Combined, she was basically lifting 100 kgs with her arms.
I didn’t count how many she did, but it felt like 5 or 6. Then, she stopped and told me to get off. Immediately, this time out of respect more than fear, I obeyed. Amazingly, her voice still didn’t sound tired, it was more like she was disappointed by something.
I stood there staring at her godly form as she still kept hanging there. Then, in one of her classic gymnastics manoeuvres, she did two round thingies on the bar, and flew off, doing a back flip midair before landing. I was in a trance. To me, I felt like she had graced the ground by landing, and she could indeed have kept flying if she had needed to. She had executed the move so elegantly and flawlessly, it was hard to believe the kind of strength she had.
My sister on her part didn’t look at me. Her arms looked extremely pumped after the gruelling workout they had just endured, and she noticed. Still not looking at me, she slowly flexed her arm. It rose and kept rising and rising and rising. It was the biggest muscle I’d ever seen on a person in real life, let alone a preteen. It was definitely bigger than when she had made me measure it. I resisted the urge to fall down to my knees and worship it, just like she had made me the previous night. Why was she doing this? It had to be go scare me! Or did she always do this after a workout? I had no idea. Then I imagined how she had put me in a headlock last night. If she decided to do it again, now that her bicep was this big, I wasn’t sure my skull could survive. The thought made me gulp, loudly. If my sister heard it, she didn’t let me know.
Instead, she brought her arm back down and started speaking. A moment later I realised she was addressing me.

“You know, you should really think about my suggestion of eating more, if you are to be of any use to me during these workouts.”

Her words felt like needles. Why was she so hell bent of humiliating me? I knew there was no way that she hadn’t struggled under my weight, no matter what she said or how she acted. But then again, she had amazed me every single time I had thought that there was a limit to her power. Maybe I wasn’t so sure...
“Until then I will have to think of something else. You know, people at the gym told me that a punching bag was great for an arm workout. It’s a pity we don’t have one at home.”
The image of my sister punching away at full strength terrified me. I didn’t think any bag could stand that onslaught.  She continued
“Unless...”
She suddenly turned around and gave me that same “size me up” glare and smiled. I flinched just looking at that smile.
“A human punching bag could be a great replacement. What do you say?”
Suddenly the image in my mind changed, and this time instead of the bag, it was me.  Frail, defenceless me. I had already been victim to just one of her fists, and if she was serious about this, I couldn’t think of more painful way to die. My eyes watered and I started trembling again. This time purely out of fear.  Before I knew it, my legs gave way and I fell down. She was still staring intently at me. It felt right somehow, lying at her feet again.
When she saw me fall down, she started laughing again. Her laughter sounded so innocent, yet had such sadist motivation behind it. Of course I didn’t do a thing, survival was the only thing on my mind at that time.
Composing herself, she said,
“Oh you sorry wimp! I was just kidding! Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you unless I have to.”
I felt my breath slow down and I realised that my heart had been pounding again. My relief must’ve been visible because she started laughing again. (I know I didn’t address the “sorry wimp” part. That’s because I’d gotten used to the names by this point, as if they suited me. I barely noticed it.)
I just lay there, in apprehension of what her next words would be. As always, my sister didn’t disappoint.
“Hey you know what’s unfair? I am standing here, almost naked, with basically all my body visible for you to see. You on the other hand, are wearing those baggy trousers and full sleeved T-shirt. This makes me feel inadequate.”
Now I’m not an idiot, despite what my sister says. I knew what she wanted but there were a few problems. First of all her acknowledging her small clothing just diverted my attention to her body again. The “inadequate” part couldn’t be more of a lie and she knew it. She was a miniature Adonis for God’s sake. Also even my little sister using the word “naked” in front of me made me cringe. As her confidence grew, she seemed to lose any and all filters of speech she might’ve had.
The second problem was much bigger. The fact that she wanted me to take my clothes off meant that she noticed how I was always covering up for her. Also this whole situation was so eerily close to my dream! Had she somehow read my dream too? No that was ridiculous, But the memory of my dream didn’t do me any favours.
Just then, I was reminded of a third problem. My bruise started burning again, as if to draw my attention. Or had it always been hurting? It was amazing how old wounds turned numb when there were bigger problems to deal with. If I took off my shirt, my sister would obviously see it, it was impossible to miss. I knew that she would connect 2 and 2 and figure out what had happened. Wonder what ideas that might ignite in that crafty head of hers. Plus, I really didn’t want her to see it. Me Knowing what she could do to me was hard enough, her knowing it too was infinitely worse for my self respect. As such I kept laying there.
All this while she had been looking expectantly at me. Finally, looking annoyed, she spoke up,
“Stand up at take off your clothes.”
Not wanting to annoy her more than I absolutely had to, I stood up with a jolt. Taking off my clothes however, was out of question.
I kept waiting for the inevitable beating, but it never came. Instead, she smiled sweetly. I felt hope engulfing me. Then she said,
“You know I could take it off of you myself if I want”
The image of her holding me hanging upside down with one leg and undoing my clothes came to mind. I knew that she was more than capable of it and I wouldn’t be able to stop her. She could hold me in any position she wanted and even tear my clothes off if she felt like it. That would’ve been even more humiliating. So, reluctantly, I obliged.
In a few moments I stood standing in front of her in nothing but my underwear, a vivid recreation of my worst nightmare. Fun!
I saw her examine me with her eyes. She didn’t say anything but I knew that she was genuinely shocked by seeing my figure. I felt grossly inadequate. Then her eyes landed on the bruise. She didn’t seem surprised, but her expression softened a bit. Her eyes, which had until now been shining with cruelty and superiority, changed. Was that guilt I saw in them? A second later, her expression hardened again, and she went back to her haughty self. Maybe it had been a delusion. Finally, she spoke,
“You might wanna put some ointment on that. It’ll only get worse if you don’t.”
She said it like she couldn’t care less either way, but there was something else.
With a start I realised that this was the first time that morning that my sister had addressed me without having her own interests in mind. Honestly, I felt grateful.
I couldn’t bear to keep looking at her body, now that she could see mine too. Hence, I bowed my head and tried to find something else interesting.
Then, I heard her voice,
“Don’t you have something you want to say to me?”
I honestly didn’t know what she wanted that time. If she wanted her muscles praised again, I’d do it, no problem. But she hadn’t asked me for that yet.
“Get over here.” She said aggressively.
Taking baby steps, so as to get more time to think about what she wanted, I slowly made my way to her.
Once I was there, she grabbed my hand so tightly it hurt, and then shoved me to turn sideways, facing her mirror.
I really didn’t want to look at the image in the mirror, it was too hard, so I started inspecting my own feet again.
Seeing this, she grabbed me by the chin and forced my head up. Then she demanded,
“See with your own eyes big brother.”
She said “big” like it was an insult. And looking at the mirror, I had to agree that it was. In real life, the difference was even more pronounced than I had previously thought.
Barely reaching my chest in height, my sister dwarfed me in every other way. Her neck was a thick and corded, while I was the ambassador of the world pencil necks society. Her pecs were broad and striated, while mine looked small and squishy. Her shoulders were like two miniature bowling balls, while mine had no growth to them whatsoever. Moving down, her abs, I decided not to look too deeply into them, as they had a history of traumatising me. The bruise which she had caused on my stomach was as big as her entire abdomen. The difference was while mine was raw and leathery, hers was hard and defined.
Moving further down, her thighs, as I finally found out for sure, were twice my size. No wonder she had creamed me anytime we had competed legs.
All in all, it was a pathetic sight. Her skin was richly tanned while I was painfully pale. Her entire body was thick and hard and sinewy while mine was skinny and flabby.
The biggest difference though wasn’t in our bodies, but our faces. She was smiling with pride and radiating confidence. I looked aware of the pathetic mess I was and ashamed of the same. My face constantly carried the “about to cry” expression.
She looked absolutely perfect, like she had no flaws, while I, with my bruise and red marks, looked beat up and battered. Any onlooker would’ve thought I wanted to run away as soon as possible, which was true. What they wouldn’t have known is there was no escape for me.
My sister was enjoying herself thoroughly and was in no mood to end my humiliation. Speaking in almost a whisper, she commanded,
“Flex, big brother.”
I hadn’t done that before. Without a word, I awkwardly brought my arm up and tried to remember how Lyza does it. I closed my fist and brought it closer, but of course nothing happened. I had no muscles to speak of. Truth was, the only body part that got any exercise were my fingers, which worked furiously everyday on the keyboard. My biceps weren’t great. To be honest, they weren’t good either. More like they weren’t visible.
Then I saw Lyza flex. She didn’t just flex her arms, she FLEXED. Muscles all over her body twitched and became harder and more defined. If she had been rock before, now she went to titanium. I was sure people would pay money just to see this display, and she could do it at will. Of course, I gawked in marvel. Then I realised that she had wanted me to do something that I hadn’t done and my awe turned to horror, which then turned to panic. Then she asked,
“What do you see brother?”
I don’t know what I would’ve said but I wasn’t given the opportunity. Immediately, she continued,
“You know what? I don’t care what you see. Let me tell you what I see. I see two people. Let’s call them Weakling and Mistress. Mistress could break the Weakling into tiny little pieces without breaking a sweat. Weakling knows this very well. Now tell me, if Mistress is gracious enough to take pity on Weakling, and offer a solution to his pain, what should Weakling do?”

I didn’t have to be a genius to guess who Weakling was and who Mistress was. By calling herself mistress, was she saying that I was her slave? Felt strangely appropriate. I wanted to answer her, to appease her. But, and this is good advice for anyone out there, if your little sister ever talks about breaking you into little pieces while flexing muscles that would put adult men to shame, don’t try to speak, as it won’t happen.
She continued,
“I’ll tell you. Weakling should thank Mistress for her graciousness and kiss her feet for her immense generosity. If Weakling fails to follow such basic courtesy, is Mistress wrong to be very, very angry?”
Her tone grew darker by the time she reached the end of the sentence. I was scared for my life. I might’ve peed my pants again, I didn’t realise. I now knew what she’d wanted me to do. I cursed myself for not figuring it out sooner. Then I did the only thing a reasonable person in my situation would do. I fell down to my knees so that I was eye level with her, and said

“I’m so sorry for my impudence. Thank you for your generosity. You’re the kindest person I know.”

I looked into her eyes to see any signs of pity. Instead, all I saw was cold rage.
Using the same eyes, she signalled towards her feet. Immediately, I dropped down even further and started pouring her feet with little kisses. I want to tell you that it was humiliating or that there was reluctance or hesitation on my part. But the truth is, all those things didn’t matter at that time. All I knew was that my sister was angry at me and this was the way to appease her, so I did it. And I did it with all the dedication I could manage, covering every toe, ankle and sole of her bare feet. I vaguely remember that the tasted salty because of the sweat, and that there were veins lining all over them. I didn’t know for how long I did it.
Then I heard an alarm ring somewhere above me. My sister brought up one of feet and kicked the side of my face. Although it didn’t seem like there was any effort behind the kick. (It was probably her legs’ “way to tell me to stop”), it generates a lot of force. So much that I slid across the room on the floor and banged into the wall, hurting my back. I didn’t have time to check for injury, (although I was sure there was footprint to match the palm print on my cheek) as my sister instantly asked for water. Getting up as fast as I could, I ran towards her. Strangely, it no longer mattered to me that I was basically naked. All that mattered was my sister’s satisfaction.
As she drank the water I was ready to catch the bottle this time. However, she just tossed it without thinking and it landed at my feet. I picked it up and stood at attention, waiting for instructions. My sister paid no heed to me. Instead, she dropped down and started doing push ups, her arms still functioning somehow. She was going so fast that I lost count, but I think she did around a 100.  Then, she transitioned to one armed push ups. Honestly nothing surprised me anymore. After doing 10 with each arm, she spread out her arms in what is called a diamond push up. She did 20 of those.  Then she told me to get on her back. Without hesitation, I did as she said. I knew by now that she was more than capable of handling my weight. She did somewhere around 40 push ups supporting my weight. With the last push up, she stopped after going up and held that position. I wanted to get off but hadn’t been told to yet to stay put. Seconds passed and I didn’t know what she was upto. Then I realised that she was trying to plank with me on her back. My plank record was 35 seconds, so i assumes my sister would do about a minute with me on her back. She did 4.
At around 3 minutes and 30 seconds, she told me to stand up. I didn’t know what she was upto now, but as it stood, she was the one in the position to get hurt, so I happily obliged.
At exactly the 4 minute mark, she told me to jump. Without thinking I did. As I did, I saw two feet coming towards me from down below. Apparently my sister had already turned around and lifted her feet. My first thought was that she was going to scissor me again, but she had other plans. Holding me in a scissor position, her mammoth legs prevented me from touching the ground. Then she removed the leg on my back, supporting my entire body weight on just one leg. As I started to tip over, the now free leg was used to balance me.
Finally,  I was lying down midair, supporter just by the two legs of my sister. This would’ve been painful anyone, but I had additional problems. You see, the centre of gravity for my body in this position, was right in the middle of my bruise. Hence, my sister’s insanely strong legs were digging right into my bruise. I wanted to scream out in pain but didn’t want to give her that satisfaction. Also any movement and I had the risk of falling down. So I had no choice but to try to endure the pain until my sister let me down.
In my direct line of sight were her abs, which were captivating as always, especially after the plank. Then my sister, as if unconcerned with supporting my weight with her raised legs, started doing crunches. Flexing, relaxing, flexing, relaxing, I once again was mesmerised by her abs, forgetting about the bruise for the moment. She must’ve done hundreds of those crunches, because by the time she stopped, I could feel her legs on the insides of my back! I hadn’t really felt anything there ever, so this was an entirely new, and extremely painful sensation.
Placing one hand on my chest and the other on my bruise, my sister removed her legs, now supporting me with her arms. Then, she stood up slowly, so that she was lifting me overhead! For a moment I thought she was going to throw me down to the hard floor. From this height, that would’ve resulted in anywhere between a concussion at the very least to straight up death from cracking my skull at most.
Thankfully, she asked me to climb down to her shoulders. Making a mental note to thank her for her mercy later, I happily climbed down. Compared to the previous hold, her shoulders were as comfortable as a massage chair. With their sheer size, I had ample place to sit comfortably without fear of falling.
Then she started squatting with my weight. She’d done this before so I had no problem. Then she started walking. She exited her room and soon entered mine. (I know she should’ve asked, but do you really think I was going to say that?)
Without a word she lifted my dumbbells, still set at 14 kgs each and handed them to me. (Now I know I had specifically told her to stay away from my weights, but that seemed like so long ago, maybe she’d forgotten, so I let this one slide). Obviously I was not about to hold 28 kgs all on my own. Thankfully, between her giant shoulders and traps, I had no trouble finding space to rest them down, while she continued her exercise. I continued going up and down and up and down. A funny thought entered my head. I never had to pay for going to the amusement park again, my sister could just simulate all the rides for me. Finishing her squats, 75-80 I’m assuming, she started doing walking lunges around my room. Was this workout ever gonna end? I didn’t think she was capable of getting tired. While doing the lunges we passed my mirror and I realised how strange we looked. My legs, hanging at her sides, reached below her knees. It looked cartoonish almost.
Suddenly she stopped. Without warning she reached up and grabbed my butt! I felt so violated, but couldn’t do anything. Pushing up, she literally tossed me like a basketball, and I landed on my bed. Not able to gain control in time, I ricocheted off the bed and onto the floor. As my feet felt stable ground beneath them, I realised this was the first Time I’d supported on my own weight since I got on her back. I almost forgot her throwing me down for fun, as I was relieved to be on the ground again. It’s true, humans are indeed terrestrial creatures. Then I concentrated on what had just happened. My sister had completed almost all of her arm workout, her entire ab workout and her entire leg workout, supporting my weight. The leg workout was in fact too easy for her, so she added another 28 kgs brining the total up to 128 kgs. I doubts three of me could lift that much together.
She asked for water and I handed it over. She drank all the remaining water in the bottle and threw it back.
Then, she turned towards me and said,
“Change your sheets and hide these. You will wash them yourself later. Mom shouldn’t find out about your little accident, she’ll have follow up questions. Is that clear?”
I hated how she didn’t even acknowledge how she’d thrown me down or the fact that I’d done everything as she had said. I deserved some praise for that. All I really wanted was for her to stop treating me like I was insignificant.  Was that too much to ask? Thinking all this I forgot that she’d asked a question.
Looking agitated, she said
“From now on, if I ask you something I need an answer. Consider this your final warning. Now I’ll say it again.  Is that clear?”
As chilla engulfed every fibre of my body, I shouted, just to be sure that I’d find my voice this time, “YES”
My sister immediately covered my mouth and stood their silently for a few moments. I could tell she was angry as she was squeezing my jaw too hard and her fingers were digging into my cheeks. I would’ve screamed from the pain if I could.
Thankfully, she removed her hand. As I looked up at her again, I saw her palm whistling towards me. Her slap echoed for several seconds, and the ringing would last for at least an hour. This was the first time my sister had actually hit me since when she had woken me up. Obviously it was enough. The slap carried so much force behind it that I almost lost me balance. The entire right side of my face throbbed with pain. From my good ear, I heard her say
“Listen you piece of shit. Talk like a human being, not a fucking Gorilla.”
She had never talked like that to me! Also when had she started saying fuck? Mom had a strict no swearing policy in the house. Of course seeing how infuriated she was, I decided to keep that information to myself for that moment. I could see her trying to compose herself. So it was true! She actually didn’t want to hurt me unless she had to. And seeing how angry she was, she could’ve done much much worse than one slap. Seeing her calming herself down made me relax a bit too. Taking a deep breath, she quietly said,
“Once you’re done with the sheets, I want you to sit down at your desk and wait. When mom comes in to wake you up, make up some excuse about wanting to play one of your stupid games. We don’t want her getting suspicious now do we?”
Remembering her earlier warning, I said “No” with a squeak. I was impressed by how much thought she had put into making me her assistant, or who are we kidding, slave.
She replied,
“Good. You learn fast.”
I strangely felt vindicated, garnering praise from her, even if it had been at the cost of a devastating slap.
She continued,
“Now remember, when I say ‘sit at your desk’ I mean just sit. No playing games. At least not until I feel you’ve earned some time on your computer. That would depend both on your behaviour and on my generosity. Right now, I’m unimpressed.”
She was literally taking over my life and I could do nothing about it. My games were my only escape from her and she was forbidding me to play them. Not taking them away from me, just telling me not to play them. She knew I was too scared to disobey her and play, so she was forcing me to, by making me stare at my computer and not play games. I knew in my heart that that was exactly what I would do, and she did too.
Also what was with her being unimpressed? What more could I do? I had followed every order, suffered every torture and sat through every humiliation without complaint. I decided right then that I’d be the best slave there can be, if that’s the way to get my games back.
She turned and walking towards the door. Then, stopping as if she’d remembered something, she turned around and said gravely,
“Screw any of this up and you’ll know what real pain is.”
I was sure I knew more about pain than she did, but I didn’t voice my opinion.
Then she smiled her sweet smile again, and in her baby voice said,
“Good morning, big brother. See you at breakfast.” And blew me a kiss. She knew I found it gross when she did that, so I was sure it was going to be a regular occurrence from now on.
Then, she left the room, leaving me pondering why it hurt so much when she called me her big brother.

[giantgirl7foot2]

Words can hardly describe how much I'm loving this story.

Love all the little things you put in, love how Lyza is everything but little. Love the absolute subjugation of her older brother and how dominant the young girl is. Love both of their thought processes.

Can't wait to read next chapters of this epic tale!

  and K+!

[lardbutt1]

What an amazing story! Hopefully this stern, yet gentle, domination continues and things heat up between Tommy and his sister! Great Stuff.

[wowser1016]

I am thoroughly enjoying this story. Sister/brother stories are my favorite anyway but you are really doing a bangup job. I can hardly wait to see where you take their relationship and how extensive Lyza's subjugation of her brother becomes. I love all of the mind games she is playing and how she is keeping her brother completely off balance and intimidated. More please. K+