Walking softly, you make your way upstairs to Emily's bedroom and stand in front of the closed door, heart pounding in your ears. After years of aggravation, your little stepsister will finally be useful for something. You close your hand around the doorknob and give it a turn. Despite her age, the girl has a large collection of stuffed animals and plushies littered about the room. Emily is sprawled out across the pale blue bed sheets, her tank top pulled up to the undersides of her plump breasts, exposing her slightly doughy midsection. You approach the side of the bed and pray that your heart doesn't leap up out of your throat.
"This is it," you think to yourself, your thumb hovering over the shrink button. "You're the one going down this time."
Seeing her sleeping face, surreally cute and innocent, you pause to reconsider. You don't necessarily have to shrink her. Enlarging the girl, even a little bit, would prove just as much, and it would be quick and easy to put her right back to normal. She would never have to know. Then again, the thought of a blown up Emily running around, wreaking even more havoc than usual, is unnerving, disturbing, and more than a little exciting.
What should you do?
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