Domination Of The Family

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Ethan had turned 18 and was going to college. He had many dreams and plans for his life. He was unaware of what would happen to him when the day came when everything would change.

Ethan was devastated as he watched his older sister, Olivia, approach him with a cruel twinkle in her eye. He had always known that she was capable of anything, but he never could have imagined that she would stoop so low as to shrink him and then torture him for her own twisted pleasure.

As she towered over him, Ethan could see the rage in her eyes. She had always been jealous of him, and he knew that the shrinking powder had only given her an excuse to vent her anger. But he had never imagined that she would go this far.

"Beg me to let you go," she sneered, grabbing him with her huge, pointed nails. He struggled vainly in her grasp, but she only tightened her hold. She was like a monster, a giantess wielding her power over him.

Feeling completely at her mercy, Ethan could only plead with her to let him go. But Olivia was not satisfied with mere obeisance. She wanted him to grovel, to serve at her feet and beg her for mercy. And when he refused, she became even more enraged.

"How dare you defy me!" she shrieked, as she lifted him even higher. Ethan could feel the points of her nails digging into his delicate skin, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before she would break through and tear him apart. As she lifted him above her head, Ethan could see the excitement in her eyes. For her, this was a game, a game in which she had all the power and he had none. She was a god, and he was a mere toy to be played with and then discarded.

And as she lowered him toward her outstretched tongue, Ethan knew that there was no end to the torments that she would inflict upon him. She had made him small, and now she intended to make him her slave, her plaything, her pet. And there was nothing he could do to resist.

For the rest of his days, Ethan would be at the mercy of his older sister. He would be her plaything, her toy, her victim. And all he could do was hope and pray for a way to escape her cruel and inhumane treatment.

As Ethan struggled in his sister Olivia's grasp, he couldn't believe what was happening. He had never thought in a million years that she would shrink him and then treat him like this. It was almost as if she had always wanted to have power over him, to dominate and control him.

Olivia seemed to revel in torturing her smaller brother. She was like a predator playing with her prey, enjoying every moment of his fear and despair. She would taunt him, mocking his small size and his inability to defend sich. And now, she was using her big, pointed nails to tear him apart, one shred at a time.

Ethan tried to beg for mercy, but Olivia only laughed, her eyes sparkling with delight. She seemed to take pleasure in his pain, as if it were somehow a validation of her power over him. And when he refused to serving her feet, she only became even more savage.

As she continued to tear him apart, Ethan could feel his consciousness slipping away. He had never thought it would end this way, never thought that his own sister would be the one to kill him. But in this moment, he knew that he was going to die at Olivia's hands.

And just as he was about to slip away, Ethan heard something that made his heart stop. It was the sound of footsteps approaching, the sound of someone coming to help him. He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe that someone had found him.

As Olivia's grip on him loosened, Ethan saw a figure appear in the doorway. It was their mother, and she had a look of fury on her face. She had seen everything, had seen Olivia torturing her smaller son, and now she was going to put a stop to it. "What have you done?" she shouted, her voice echoing through the room. Olivia looked up, a look of shock on her face, but she knew that it was too late. She had gone too far, had let her sick desire for power and control get the better of her.

Ethan watched as his mother approached, watched as she picked him up and cradled him in her arms. He knew that he was going to be okay, that he was going to survive. And as she carried him out of the room, he knew that he was finally free.

Ethan wasn't sure what to think when his mother picked him up and carried him away from his sister's clutches. He had always known that his older sister had a nasty temper, but he had never imagined that she would try to tear him apart. And now, here he was, in his mother's arms, feeling her warmth and tenderness as she nuzzled him.

But as she carried him to her bedroom, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He had always known that his mother was jealous of his sister, that she coveted her power and control. And now, as she lay him down on her bed and reached for a leash, Ethan knew that he was in for another round of cruelty and mistreatment. "Please, mother," he pleaded, as she wrapped the leash around his neck and tightened it snugly. "Don't treat me this way. I'll be good, I promise. Just don't put that leash on me." But his mother only laughed, and Ethan knew that she had no intention of treating him well. She saw him as a toy, a plaything to be controlled and broken. And now, he was going to be her pet, her slave, her victim. Suddenly, Ethan felt the leash tug on his neck, hard, and he was dragged off the bed and onto the floor. He watched in horror as his mother began to treat him like a dog, ordering him to sit, to lie down, to roll over, to lick her feet. He could almost hear the joy in her voice as she humiliated him, as she treated him like a creature less than human.

As he crouched at her feet, Ethan knew that he was in for a long night of torment. His mother was enjoying this too much, enjoying her power and control over him. And he knew that he would have to find a way to resist, to break free, or else he would be her slave forever.

Ethan's heart sank as he heard the sound of his father's car pulling into the driveway. He knew what was coming, knew that his night of torture was about to get even worse. As he heard the door open and the sound of his father's footsteps approaching, he tensed up, bracing himself for the worst.

And as his father entered the room, he saw the grim expression on his face, the determination to put Ethan in his place. But what Ethan didn't expect was to see his mother and sister standing next to him, grins of anticipation on their faces.

Suddenly, Ethan was grabbed and thrown into the toilet, the cold water shocking him as it splashed against his skin. He tried to stand, but he couldn't, the sheer shock of what was happening too much for him to process. And then, as if it couldn't get any worse, he felt his father's hand on his shoulder, pushing him down into the water. Ethan closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest, as he felt the hot liquid splashing against his face, his body, his whole being.

"You're nothing, Ethan," his father muttered, his voice filled with contempt. "You're less than nothing, less than a dog. You're just a pathetic little creature, and we're going to show you what we think of you."

And then, as if on cue, Ethan felt his mother and sister joining in, as if they were one being, one entity, with a single goal: to break him down, to destroy him. They all began to ridicule him, to spit on him, to mock him.

"This is what you deserve, Ethan," his mother growled, her hands reaching into her mouth, her fingers pulling out a glob of saliva, her arms stretching out, hurling the sticky blob with ruthless accuracy at Ethan's chest. And then, as if it couldn't get any worse, as if he had endured enough, Ethan felt the sting of urine on his face, of his father's bladder emptying on him, of his mother and sister's ridicule reaching a fever pitch. But even in the midst of this horror, Ethan knew that he had to resist, that he had to find a way to break free, to break the cycle, or else he would be destroyed. And as he lay there, covered in urine and spit, he swore Ethan tried to block out the chorus of voices that were hurling abuse, insults, and curses at him. He couldn't believe that his own family was capable of such depravity, such cruelty. But still, they kept going, their words cutting into him like a thousand tiny knives.

His mother was the most vicious, the most relentless. "You're a loser," she sneered, "an absolute disappointment. You're nothing, nothing but a burden to me." The words echoed in his ears, her voice dripping with disdain, her eyes filled with contempt. His father wasn't far behind, his voice booming, his face red with anger. "You're a pathetic excuse for a son," he spat, "a waste of space, a worthless little creature." The words stung, the sound of his voice stabbing into Ethan's heart, leaving him feeling hollow, empty. Then there was his sister, her voice sharp, her words cutting like a blade. "You're an embarrassment," she hissed, "a constant reminder of my own failures. You make me sick." The words were like poison, seeping into Ethan's mind, his heart, leaving him feeling violated, defiled.

And as the three of them continued to berate him, to abuse him, Ethan felt himself being crushed under the weight of their words. He wanted to scream, to fight back, to do something, anything, to make them stop. But in that moment, he felt completely and utterly powerless, helpless against the sheer force of their hate. Ethan knew it was coming. He could feel it in the air, in the eyes of his family members as they surrounded him. And then, suddenly, it was happening, as if they had been waiting for this moment, as if they had been planning it for months, for years. His father was the first to move, his foot swinging out, connecting with Ethan's side, knocking him to the ground. And then his mother was on him, her heel coming down, crushing his chest, breaking his ribs, as if he was nothing but a bug, a disgusting little creature.

And then, as if to show their disdain, the whole family joined in, raising their feet, using them to crush Ethan like the bug they thought he was. Ethan screamed, he begged, he cried, but it was all in vain. They were enjoying this too much, enjoying their power, their control, their ability to inflict pain and suffering.

But as Ethan lay there, his body broken, his soul shattered, he knew that he would not give in, that he would not give them the satisfaction. He would fight, he would resist, he would survive, or he would die trying. Ethan looked up, his eyes wide with fear, as he saw his mother striding towards him. He knew what was coming. He had felt it in the air, in the way that she was looking at him.

And then, without warning, her foot came down hard on his head, the stiletto heel of her high heels impaling his skull like a spear through a melon. He screamed, he writhed, he tried to get away, but it was all in vain.

She took a step back, her foot coming off his shattered skull with a sickening sucking sound. And then, without missing a beat, she stepped forward again, her foot coming down on his head a second time, then a third time, then a fourth, as if she was trying to grind his brain into paste.

Ethan's vision was starting to blur, the blood pouring from his shattered skull like a river, as he faded in and out of consciousness. He heard his mother's laughter, her words ringing in his ears.

But as his consciousness began to slip away, Ethan made one final act of resistance, one final act of rebellion. He raised his hand, his fingers crooked into a fist, and with the last of his strength he gave his mother, the one who had destroyed him, the finger he had never given anyone before. And then, with a final twitch, Ethan's body went limp, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, as his final act of defiance rang out into eternity.

The End...

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