The first thing you notice is chipped nail polish, sparkly pink,a series of them the size of dinner plates. They cap soft pink fingers, each one a couple feet long, which grip you for just a second as they settle you by the left hip of an enormous girl. She carries your twin forward and down, and you have just long enough to get a sense of your owner. She is wearing plain white panties and matching training bra, which is covering breasts which barely deserve the name, though they are quite large compared to you. You don't get a good look at her face right away; you do see a mass of wavy red hair, which swings back as she rises, exposing a generally pretty pre-teen, probably sixth or seventh grade.
You're simultaneously grateful that she at least put on underwear before you, and embarrassed that she's only put on underwear.
But you don't have time to dwell on it as she's already grabbing you with a hand that's as big as you are. Her fingers are probably slender, but to you they're vicelike, especially as she brings you across to her other hand, which grabs on to you and pulls on you, stretching you out. It isn't painful, exactly, but it is uncomfortable.
You are realizing as you drop that you can move your senses around your form. You try to look up at her, and realize to your chagrin that she isn't even returning your gaze; she's looking off at something else as she lifts her right foot towards you, and you towards it.
And then you lurch forward around five toes, which slide inside you as you slide around them. You can taste and smell them - fortunately, they taste only a little salty, like she had just left the shower. Her skin is soft, and it's almost pleasant as she lets go of you and you snap into place.
Then the foot and you drop. You land on carpet, and get a brief glimpse under her bed. Then, she rises.
It is both painful and pleasurable. The weight of her is definitely significant, even though from this angle you can see that she's fairly slim. But while there is pain in the weight, there is also a sense of being complete. This is what you were made to do.
The girl walks over to her dresser, each step jarring on good and bad levels. She already has her clothes set out. She's grabbing....
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