"You know, Lewis," you say as you snatch him up into your left hand. You switch him over to your right hand, so that your fingers can wrap around his arms, and pin them to his side, "This little plan of yours, where you were gonna shrink me to the size of a doll, and keep me as a little butt slave... Well, it was actually pretty clever!"
Your brother looks up at you in panic, and fear, trying to understand what you're thinking.
"You almost had me, too, you were real close," you say. "And, yeah, I could just grow you back, or I could even just keep you this size and teach you a lesson until mom and dad come home, buuuuuuuuut... Your plan is just too good not to put into use."
"What?!" Lewis yells.
"Yeah, I mean, hey, I get to be an only child, and have a devoted pocket-sized butt slave? That's just too good of an opportunity to pass up," you laugh.
You grab the blue dust as Lewis begs and pleads for you to reconsider.
"Please, Ash, I'll do anything, please don't, stop!" Lewis wails, fat tears streaming down his face.
You unscrew the cap, and gingerly bring the vial of blue dust to to Lewis.
"You're gonna be living the rest of your life in big brother's butt," you say, almost to yourself as you eye the levels of dust in the vial. You stick your tongue out into the corner of your mouth as you begin to tip it over, "You're gonna be waist deep in my asshole, you're gonna eat the shit out of my hole, and you're gonna smell these farts like the dutiful little butt slave you were always meant to be."
You close one eye as the dust gently pours out of the glass, and expertly lands on Lewis' nose and mouth.
You quickly set him down onto the counter. Lewis grabs his neck as he struggles to breathe through the dust, coughing, and sputtering, spit flying out of his mouth, and snot out of his nose. You pour a little more blue dust on him as he takes in more breaths, just for good measure, and for an even better measure, you add a little more gray dust to the scene. You cap everything, and put everything into a shoebox, where you neatly store it on the shelf in your closet.
You come back the kitchen to see Lewis huddling himself, shivering, almost looking like a tweaker. He looks up at you with sad, puppy dog eyes. Wow, that stuff works fast, you think to yourself.
"Ash," he rasps. His voice sounds as if he hadn't had water for months. "H-help... Me."
"Aw, does my little brother need a fix?" you ask.
"N-nooo," he whispers hoarsely. His face crinkles into that of disgust, but his body goes against him, and he nods.
"Let me take care of you, my little dingle berry," you say.
How should you take care of him? Give him a fix, and fart in his face? Pull your waistband back, and slide him down your slimy butt crack? Or should you sit and fart on him while you finish your untouched breakfast?
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