Nail Polish Prison
Your Life......Smaller
chapter 13
by
copier
· original author:
tfwnogiantgf
December scratched at her blonde locks, miles and miles in the air, each thicker than your torso. Together, they became a golden sea of dread and confusion, their swishing like mighty sonic booms. "Come on, help me! Give me a sign!"
If your arm wasn't glued hard by even layers of nail polish, you can think of a few signs you'd give your planetoid sister. You wish you didn't wake up on this March morning - stirred from your box room and thread bed by her face and tweezers. How could you predict you'd be stranded on this ditz's stadium-sized little toe?
Her mountainous digits drummed the sandal's surface in thought. This mere fidget sent you rocketing to the sky, and crashing down with meteor force. The pressure would send you flying, were it not for the rock-hard paint keeping you lodged in place.
"I should get you out, bro..." Her voice alone made your body bounce within its keratin confines. "...But I can't ruin your masterpiece! You poured your eensy-weensy heart into this job!"
She honestly appeared choked up about this. Her throat bulged. You groaned, knowing she couldn't hear: "Only because you told me to..."
You lifted again, higher to the ceiling sites. Your sister paced in circles, scratching her head harder. Your heart stopped with every STOMP - large enough to crush a city beneath it, and powerful enough to crack the planet's core. Even the slap of her sandals against her heels was terrifyingly loud. "And I told you to paint them... this is the labor of siblings' love! The expert stroke of your tiny hands! My feet as the canvas, my hair as the brush, and my brains as the guide!" She lifted the foot up by the sole, giving you a panorama view of her glowing, bulbous eyes. "I'd be a bully if I messed that up!"
You quivered at the blink of her eyes - the lashes were windy forests that you could lose yourself in. "But you had no problem bullying me into doing your nails... Or polishing you jewels..."
"Buuut, then agaaain..." Without warning, the goliath slammed down and shuffled, now rattling your innards side to side. "It'd be nice for you to do other chores!... Uhm, uh, I mean... Nice for you to learn more thingamajigs through experience!" She clapped. "I'm sure I can save you without scratching my nail! Alright, the Brother Rescue Operation is in effect!"
At this declaration, she put her hands to her forehead, rubbing hard for a good idea to pop out. You took this rare moment of stillness to test, basking in the magnified scenery. It didn't matter of it was for her own self-interest, or that you had more banal tasks in the future. You'd been so shaken by her mountain-moving fighting; so puzzled following December's train of thought on its rickety rails; and gotten so tired of seeing foothills in each direction. Anything that'd free you from this titanic idiot's shadow would be worth it.
Your humongous sister pulled her ankle from the sandal - the landscape of worn rubber with the skyscraper strap flying out of view. You ascended, as if on a rocket ship - looking at landscapes of leg, shirt, and face pass by. She held her small toe to her lips, giving you a close-up perspective of its intricate, wet folds. Soon, they parted, and her deafening boom echoed: "First attempt! I'll blow you out!"
You barely recovered from the attack on your ears, when she puckered her massive mouth, and began puffing. Tropical storms couldn't compare to the power of this girl's breath. The heavy, humid winds flapped your shirt and hair so much, it was as if they'd fly right off into the air. Microscopic globs of spittle doused your teensy face, and the crimson fields around you; but the continual hurricane instantly dried them off. Her lungs wouldn't give out, barraging you with a force more powerful than a locomotive.
You quietly promised to never again say she was "full of hot air". It might tempt fate.
When Hurricane December quieted, you panted heavily. Your hair went puffy. Moving your head, trying to straighten it, you found your neck stuck even firmer!
"Waaait... Hah..." your would-be liberator thought, panting herself. "Blowing on things... hah... just dries them up, right? Aw, shoot!" Your sister punched herself in the forehead. Standing only on one heel, it made her lose balance, and tumble over - and you came crashing down with her. You shook in a cacophony of sound and motion as her backside hit the floor.
If you had a free hand, you would facepalm. "You idiot..."
"Well, long as we're here - second attempt! I'll wiggle you off!" She declared.
Your heart sunk.
Her unbelievably large fingers descended upon the digit, grabbing the phalange on both sides. The skin folded back to accommodate the monumental tips. And soon, she shook it. "This little piggy went to... uh, where was it?"
Upwards, and downwards - you rocketed to the heavens, and descended to Hades, in one split second. The platform of polish flew haphazardly, jolting you in new directions without a modicum of effort. The room was a shapeless blur. Heck, your joints felt as if they were losing shape, lost in the inertia of ascent, re-entry, and centrifuge all at once.
And worse - when it ended, you STILL couldn't budge a micrometer! "It's not working..."
December squinted intently at you through magnifying glasses, groaning. "Didn't want to do this, but here comes Plan C. Rubbing you out!"
You already hated Plan C.
The smallest toe on her other foot - beautified by your labors - descended on top of the other, and started brushing the nail. Hills and valleys of your sister's supple skin smothered you, sliding on your diminished form again and again. No matter where you looked, there was a whole sky of rolling flesh.
Faster she rubbed, filling your senses with her flesh. She drove you deep into the joint, sending you hurdling over vistas of detritus. You shut your eyes to prevent the salty surfaces from stinging; but that did little to help the incredible friction racing across you from scalp to shoes and back to your scalp.
By the frustrated "Hnnng" above, it was clear December wasn't having much fun, either. "No good! I'll have to try harder!"
Now, the ditz put her sole into it. Her entire sole, stretching out miles - you didn't know how many. It was impossible to see the monster in its entirety, from thundering heel to wiggling toes. Still, you felt every inch of the surface, bit by bit, as she dragged her nail across it. Vigorous pressure beat on you from every side. The keratin slid and kneaded the flesh, flakes of it flying off. It was like a small country had decided to rise from the sea and give you a full-body massage.
She ground, squeezed, and rubbed, quicker, harder, deeper. Eventually, her ankle became sore, and her skin turned raw. You'd thoroughly explored every detail of your big sister's wrinkles - and they had thoroughly explored you. Nothing. The two of you were hopelessly glued together, sweltering from the effort.
December put on her intense "thinking" face anew. "Urgh. What if I have to keep you on here for a days? How would you poop or shower?" Her forehead creased. "How would -I- poop or shower? There's gotta be another way. Maybe if we have spare pills, we could shrink shrink you small enough to wiggle out..."
She wanted to shrink you MORE?A vision passed in your head. You, trekking endless mountains of a continent-sized toenail; fending off bacteria; listening to an omnipotent voice booming a lesson about the famous scientist Alfred "Al" Gebra...
You screamed, and thrashed an arm in panic.
The red polish didn't hold it back.
One of your limbs had just escaped.
"Huh?" December peered to your free arm, the magnifying glasses shaking in her hands. "I... I liberated an arm! But how...?"
A flash of electricity sparked in her eyes, similar to a computer waking up from Sleep Mode. "Of course! They taught this in The Book Of Cartoon Science!" She beamed. "Like, if my toe gets hotter and wetter, the paint will put up less resistance! I'd better get some extra socks on!"
This day just kept getting better and better.
After a few terrifying footsteps, a veil of dark threads covered you; followed by another. And yet another. Sweat dripped over you. The musty sock barricades cut off your air. To make matters worse, you thought you saw a minuscule rip in the thread above you, about the size of your "bed"...
She finally stuffed on her fifth sock. The sauna of residual heat wafted on you. The ground beneath was practically melting.
Suddenly, a terrifying slosh. There was a flood of perspiration racing for you! You shivered, shook your head, struggled against the red surface...
...And tore yourself loose! You stumbled through the sock, bumping on the crisscrossing threads. Thankfully, you'd shrunken enough to slip between them; otherwise, you'd have to travel for hours simply to get to the sock's mouth. You landed on solid wood, at last.
December took her foot from the sock, and called to it. "Still there?" She pointed the magnifying lens at the ground, and grinned. "Yay! Brother Rescue Operation: success! You can thank me later. Right now, I gotta show off this polish!"
She stomped off, causing earthquakes - and leaving you on the floor, sighing. "Sure, you go, hero... Live your day to the fullest." She'd left you on the ground without any support.
Soon, someone approached...
If your arm wasn't glued hard by even layers of nail polish, you can think of a few signs you'd give your planetoid sister. You wish you didn't wake up on this March morning - stirred from your box room and thread bed by her face and tweezers. How could you predict you'd be stranded on this ditz's stadium-sized little toe?
Her mountainous digits drummed the sandal's surface in thought. This mere fidget sent you rocketing to the sky, and crashing down with meteor force. The pressure would send you flying, were it not for the rock-hard paint keeping you lodged in place.
"I should get you out, bro..." Her voice alone made your body bounce within its keratin confines. "...But I can't ruin your masterpiece! You poured your eensy-weensy heart into this job!"
She honestly appeared choked up about this. Her throat bulged. You groaned, knowing she couldn't hear: "Only because you told me to..."
You lifted again, higher to the ceiling sites. Your sister paced in circles, scratching her head harder. Your heart stopped with every STOMP - large enough to crush a city beneath it, and powerful enough to crack the planet's core. Even the slap of her sandals against her heels was terrifyingly loud. "And I told you to paint them... this is the labor of siblings' love! The expert stroke of your tiny hands! My feet as the canvas, my hair as the brush, and my brains as the guide!" She lifted the foot up by the sole, giving you a panorama view of her glowing, bulbous eyes. "I'd be a bully if I messed that up!"
You quivered at the blink of her eyes - the lashes were windy forests that you could lose yourself in. "But you had no problem bullying me into doing your nails... Or polishing you jewels..."
"Buuut, then agaaain..." Without warning, the goliath slammed down and shuffled, now rattling your innards side to side. "It'd be nice for you to do other chores!... Uhm, uh, I mean... Nice for you to learn more thingamajigs through experience!" She clapped. "I'm sure I can save you without scratching my nail! Alright, the Brother Rescue Operation is in effect!"
At this declaration, she put her hands to her forehead, rubbing hard for a good idea to pop out. You took this rare moment of stillness to test, basking in the magnified scenery. It didn't matter of it was for her own self-interest, or that you had more banal tasks in the future. You'd been so shaken by her mountain-moving fighting; so puzzled following December's train of thought on its rickety rails; and gotten so tired of seeing foothills in each direction. Anything that'd free you from this titanic idiot's shadow would be worth it.
Your humongous sister pulled her ankle from the sandal - the landscape of worn rubber with the skyscraper strap flying out of view. You ascended, as if on a rocket ship - looking at landscapes of leg, shirt, and face pass by. She held her small toe to her lips, giving you a close-up perspective of its intricate, wet folds. Soon, they parted, and her deafening boom echoed: "First attempt! I'll blow you out!"
You barely recovered from the attack on your ears, when she puckered her massive mouth, and began puffing. Tropical storms couldn't compare to the power of this girl's breath. The heavy, humid winds flapped your shirt and hair so much, it was as if they'd fly right off into the air. Microscopic globs of spittle doused your teensy face, and the crimson fields around you; but the continual hurricane instantly dried them off. Her lungs wouldn't give out, barraging you with a force more powerful than a locomotive.
You quietly promised to never again say she was "full of hot air". It might tempt fate.
When Hurricane December quieted, you panted heavily. Your hair went puffy. Moving your head, trying to straighten it, you found your neck stuck even firmer!
"Waaait... Hah..." your would-be liberator thought, panting herself. "Blowing on things... hah... just dries them up, right? Aw, shoot!" Your sister punched herself in the forehead. Standing only on one heel, it made her lose balance, and tumble over - and you came crashing down with her. You shook in a cacophony of sound and motion as her backside hit the floor.
If you had a free hand, you would facepalm. "You idiot..."
"Well, long as we're here - second attempt! I'll wiggle you off!" She declared.
Your heart sunk.
Her unbelievably large fingers descended upon the digit, grabbing the phalange on both sides. The skin folded back to accommodate the monumental tips. And soon, she shook it. "This little piggy went to... uh, where was it?"
Upwards, and downwards - you rocketed to the heavens, and descended to Hades, in one split second. The platform of polish flew haphazardly, jolting you in new directions without a modicum of effort. The room was a shapeless blur. Heck, your joints felt as if they were losing shape, lost in the inertia of ascent, re-entry, and centrifuge all at once.
And worse - when it ended, you STILL couldn't budge a micrometer! "It's not working..."
December squinted intently at you through magnifying glasses, groaning. "Didn't want to do this, but here comes Plan C. Rubbing you out!"
You already hated Plan C.
The smallest toe on her other foot - beautified by your labors - descended on top of the other, and started brushing the nail. Hills and valleys of your sister's supple skin smothered you, sliding on your diminished form again and again. No matter where you looked, there was a whole sky of rolling flesh.
Faster she rubbed, filling your senses with her flesh. She drove you deep into the joint, sending you hurdling over vistas of detritus. You shut your eyes to prevent the salty surfaces from stinging; but that did little to help the incredible friction racing across you from scalp to shoes and back to your scalp.
By the frustrated "Hnnng" above, it was clear December wasn't having much fun, either. "No good! I'll have to try harder!"
Now, the ditz put her sole into it. Her entire sole, stretching out miles - you didn't know how many. It was impossible to see the monster in its entirety, from thundering heel to wiggling toes. Still, you felt every inch of the surface, bit by bit, as she dragged her nail across it. Vigorous pressure beat on you from every side. The keratin slid and kneaded the flesh, flakes of it flying off. It was like a small country had decided to rise from the sea and give you a full-body massage.
She ground, squeezed, and rubbed, quicker, harder, deeper. Eventually, her ankle became sore, and her skin turned raw. You'd thoroughly explored every detail of your big sister's wrinkles - and they had thoroughly explored you. Nothing. The two of you were hopelessly glued together, sweltering from the effort.
December put on her intense "thinking" face anew. "Urgh. What if I have to keep you on here for a days? How would you poop or shower?" Her forehead creased. "How would -I- poop or shower? There's gotta be another way. Maybe if we have spare pills, we could shrink shrink you small enough to wiggle out..."
She wanted to shrink you MORE?A vision passed in your head. You, trekking endless mountains of a continent-sized toenail; fending off bacteria; listening to an omnipotent voice booming a lesson about the famous scientist Alfred "Al" Gebra...
You screamed, and thrashed an arm in panic.
The red polish didn't hold it back.
One of your limbs had just escaped.
"Huh?" December peered to your free arm, the magnifying glasses shaking in her hands. "I... I liberated an arm! But how...?"
A flash of electricity sparked in her eyes, similar to a computer waking up from Sleep Mode. "Of course! They taught this in The Book Of Cartoon Science!" She beamed. "Like, if my toe gets hotter and wetter, the paint will put up less resistance! I'd better get some extra socks on!"
This day just kept getting better and better.
After a few terrifying footsteps, a veil of dark threads covered you; followed by another. And yet another. Sweat dripped over you. The musty sock barricades cut off your air. To make matters worse, you thought you saw a minuscule rip in the thread above you, about the size of your "bed"...
She finally stuffed on her fifth sock. The sauna of residual heat wafted on you. The ground beneath was practically melting.
Suddenly, a terrifying slosh. There was a flood of perspiration racing for you! You shivered, shook your head, struggled against the red surface...
...And tore yourself loose! You stumbled through the sock, bumping on the crisscrossing threads. Thankfully, you'd shrunken enough to slip between them; otherwise, you'd have to travel for hours simply to get to the sock's mouth. You landed on solid wood, at last.
December took her foot from the sock, and called to it. "Still there?" She pointed the magnifying lens at the ground, and grinned. "Yay! Brother Rescue Operation: success! You can thank me later. Right now, I gotta show off this polish!"
She stomped off, causing earthquakes - and leaving you on the floor, sighing. "Sure, you go, hero... Live your day to the fullest." She'd left you on the ground without any support.
Soon, someone approached...
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June 6
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