As the sisters get to work on the kitchen, your presence on her wrist is all but forgotten. Bored, you struggle to escape the bonds, but while you manage to make a bit of room for yourself, it's nowhere near enough to escape. At the same time, Grace's skin begins to produce sweat, and you too become wet and sticky. She stops moving around the room, and her voice grows more strained and wheezy - evidently the labour has caused her to heat up, and your suffering grows at the same rate as hers. Before too long, the skin under her bracelet starts to get itchy. Still, Grace concentrates on the task at hand, and ignores the incessant itching.
Before long though, she's at the end of her tether, and the young teen's scratching at her wrist, the flesh of her fingers pressing around the bracelet and yourself. At last, her curiosity takes hold, and the fingers push away the sleeve, revealing your distressed form.
With the air on your body you gasp with relief, and Grace smiles mischievously at you. The bracelet rolls as she pushes her hand up, bringing it before her face once again.
A sparkle twinkles in her eye. Before you can think of how to respond, a gigantic tongue rises to loom above you, a mountain of red flesh. It hovers there, too huge to ignore, then dips toward the back of her wrist.
Wet, slimy, hot - you jerk your head at the contact, and the girl's tongue brushes over the wrist bracelet, over you. Your entire front is slathered in a thick layer of girl-spit, your hair so sodden you look bald. Your entire outfit is drenched in saliva, the overpowering odour making you gag. It's disgustingly hot, and makes you feel so sticky...
The towering pink hill of her tongue rears back into her mouth, and the girl smacks her lips with an audible pop. Above, Grace's eyes meet yours, and she giggles.
"Sorry," she says, not a hint of apology in her tone. "But you're making my wrist kinda itchy. Did you know spit can make that stop? Weird, huh?"
"Grace!" Olivia barks. "There's stuff that needs packing here!"
The girl rolls her eyes in your direction, and squeezes the saliva-soaked wrist bracelet. "Okay!" she calls back, before leaning forward to whisper in your ear.
"Let's hope this works and you don't itch anymore - otherwise I might just have to lick you again." Giggling, she returns to work, and hides you under the jersey sleeve once more.
An hour passes.
With every passing second, you grow increasingly impatient, trying to squirm your way out of this stifling wrist prison, to no avail. At the same time, Grace has been forced to continue to work alongside her sister, the constant labour turning her to a wheezing, panting wreck, the itchiness of your bindings becoming a burden that Grace can no longer ignore.
Once, twice, thrice... with increasing regularity Grace's face rises in front of you, and you are licked by a colossal teenaged girl. Over and over again. Every time, you try to squirm away from her saliva-coated, slimy tongue, but she reaches you, drenching you once more.
What began as a means of controlling an itch soon becomes Grace's favoured pastime. As she packs various kitchen items into cardboard boxes, her mind wanders from the task, and her attention is returned to the tiny boy, you, tied to her wrist. With a roll of her eyes, she tugs back her shirt sleeve, to reveal you. Sure enough, your whole body is a sticky mess, the glimmer of spit, dried and otherwise, coating your body and your clothes.
Her huge head dips in, blotting out the room light, as her tongue looms, already oozing its slimy excretions, preparing to further slather your struggling form...
With all your might, you jerk your body away from the gigantic slab of meat descending towards you, freeing yourself just a little more. Her tongue is mere inches from you, a sticky string of her saliva breaking from its tip and already beginning to coat the hair atop your head, when the girl's movement is arrested. It hovers, teasing and repulsive, right before you, the breath escaping its slaver-ridden cavern making you retch from the putrid stench.
"What are you doing there?"
The tongue retreats, the blinding glow of the bare light bulb of the kitchen bringing an end to your nightmare of giant girl's mouth. You, and Grace too, turn your heads toward the source of the question. Olivia stands just beside her little sister, frowning at the odd, swaying tongue her sister seems to have taken a fancy to displaying. This time, it's Grace's turn to freeze, caught in the act of licking her sweat-covered wrist - or rather, the tiny boy tied to that wrist. She looks to you in a panic, but your tied body is in no position to do much in the way of helping.
"Um... licking my friendship bracelet?" Grace mumbles, quickly trying to shove her hand up her sleeve, to hide you from view. "Uh, a goodbye ritual or whatever. To Shannon..."
Olivia's left eyebrow rises, a combination of confusion and annoyance written on her features. "Okay," she states. "So we are both in agreement that what you just said and did was really weird and stupid?"
Blushing, Grace's gaze drops to the floor, her hand and the precious contents contained therein fully shielded by her jersey sleeve.
"Yeah."
Olivia's irritation melts in the face of her sister's sheepishness. "All right. Just, I dunno, try not to be such a dork, sis."
Thankfully for Grace, Olivia wandered off and allowed the two of you a moment of privacy. Once free from her, Grace moves to another room of the house. For a moment, you wondered where she was going. Then, with dawning dread, you see she is headed into the bathroom.
Lifting up her shirt sleeve, Grace brings you before her eyes, and you can make out a change in her expression.
"Sorry." Her gaze is soft, almost affectionate, but also somewhat tense. There is something she wants, but also does not want to tell you. You remain silent, and her eyebrows arch further, her frown deepening.
"I really need to go." She breathes out the words, clearly mortified. "So I'm going to use the toilet and... uh, yeah."
You get the idea, but you have no idea where this is going. "Just a second!" you say, and the girl holds you before her as you consider your next move.
How do you wish to handle Grace's need to relieve herself?
"So you need to... okay. Then just put me somewhere. You can come back for me, and no-one has to watch anybody else on the toilet. We all get to keep our dignity."
"Sorry, Todd. You've got too good a chance of something happening if I put you down. You're coming with me, like it or not."
"Come on, Grace! Just leave me alone. Put me on the table or something."
"Just... close your eyes, okay? Keep them closed until I say to open them."
It sucks, to be sure, but in order to keep you safe you'll need to stay with her for the rest of today, at least. So long as she has you, no-one can snatch you up or threaten you!
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