The Way Things Were by Parajake32

Steve, a 19 year old with newly acquired shrinking disorder, is forced to move in with his mother, the lovely 47-year-old Mary, as she tries to help him overcome his new condition.

Categories: Feet, Gentle, Humiliation, Slow Size Change, Breasts, Body Exploration Characters: None
Growth: None
Shrink: Doll (12 in. to 6 in.)
Size Roles: F/m
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 5 Completed: No Word count: 9776 Read: 13970 Published: July 06 2023 Updated: July 17 2023
Chapter 2 - It Begins by Parajake32

Current height: 5'6

As I woke up that morning, a sense of unease settled deep within me. Something was different—off. I stretched my limbs, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, but as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, I realized with a jolt that they didn't quite reach the floor as they used to.

My heart pounded in my chest as I stood up, feeling a strange lightness in my body. I stumbled, almost losing my balance, and quickly realized why. Looking down, I gasped in disbelief. My eyes widened as I saw myself standing at a height that matched my mother's—5'6 feet tall.

It was as if my very identity had been shaken to its core. I had gone from towering over my mom to being her equal in height. How was this possible? Panic swirled within me, blending with a growing sense of vulnerability.

The room seemed to close in around me, and a mix of emotions coursed through my veins. The realization of my shrinking size weighed heavily on me, casting a shadow over my sense of independence and self-assuredness. Suddenly, I found myself yearning for the comforting presence of my mom.

As I made my way to the bathroom, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me looked like a younger version of myself, with newfound fragility etched upon his face. The image before me highlighted the vulnerability I had been feeling—my diminishing stature mirrored in the depths of my eyes.

A wave of embarrassment washed over me as I noticed the dampness around my waist. It took me a moment to comprehend what had happened. I had climaxed during the night, during that dream. The shame and humiliation pierced through me, leaving me feeling exposed and small, both physically and emotionally.

''What is wrong with me?'' I thought. How could I be turned on by a such surreal dream?

The combination of physical shrinkage and the involuntary loss of control reminded me that I was becoming increasingly dependent on my mother. I had always prided myself on my independence, relishing in the freedom that adulthood had granted me. But now, it seemed that my shrinking body was paralleled by a growing reliance on the woman who had cared for me since I was born.

As the weeks passed, my shrinking seemed to have stop, for now. But I couldn't get that dream off my head, and more often than not, caught myself staring at my mom's foot, remembering those images. But most of all, the sensations it gave me, and the guilt that came with it.

One afternoon, I found myself sitting on the couch, lost in a sea of thoughts. My mind was swirling with a mix of acceptance and frustration, trying to come to terms with my diminishing stature. It was then that my mom entered the room, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

"Hey there, Shorty!" she exclaimed playfully, a teasing smile curling at the corners of her lips.

I couldn't help but chuckle, her attempt to lift my spirits shining through her playful words. "Shorty, huh? Well, at least I'm not the only one who needs to adjust their perspective now," I retorted, gesturing towards her taller figure.

Mom laughed heartily, her laughter filling the room with warmth. "Touché! Looks like we'll have to start seeing eye-to-eye, quite literally!"

As we bantered back and forth, I couldn't help but appreciate my mom's lighthearted approach. In those moments, her teasing became a way to bring levity to the situation, a reminder that even in the face of uncertainty, we could find moments of joy. It was as if her playful banter was a shield, protecting us both from the weight of the circumstances.

However, as we shared these light-hearted exchanges, I couldn't help but notice a peculiar preoccupation growing within me. Whenever my gaze met my mom's, my eyes would inevitably drift downward, drawn to her feet. I couldn't shake the memory of my dream, the image of her giant foot about to descend upon me. It was as if that dream had imprinted itself on my subconscious, coloring the way I perceived her feet in reality.

Though I tried to divert my attention, the sight of her feet, clad in socks or shoes, held an inexplicable fascination for me. They seemed massive, even more so now that I had become smaller in comparison. I found myself fixated, studying the arches and curves, as if seeking answers within their very form.

The conflicting emotions continued to swirl within me—an odd mixture of awe, vulnerability, and a lingering sense of fear. While I appreciated my mom's humor and support, a part of me couldn't escape the reminder of my own shrinking stature and my newfound reliance on her.

Amidst the teasing and the foot-gazing, the bond between us grew stronger. I realized that our connection extended beyond the physical changes and the uncertainties we faced.

One night though, I had another strange dream:

In the dream, I found myself standing before my mom, who appeared larger than life. Her feet, clad in brightly colored socks, towered before me like twin mountains. I couldn't tear my gaze away from their enormity, marveling at the intricate details that I had become so fixated upon in my waking hours.

My mom, catching on to my entranced state, couldn't resist the opportunity for a playful jab. With a twinkle in her eye and a mischievous grin, she wiggled her toes, causing the socks to dance before my eyes.

"Well, well, well, look who's got a thing for feet!" she exclaimed, her laughter echoing through the dreamlike landscape. "Are my big ol' feet simply irresistible to you, my tiny adventurer?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement flooding over me. "Mom, it's not like that!" I protested, trying to regain my composure. "It's just... I mean, in the dream... they seem so big, and..."

Before I could finish my sentence, my mom burst into laughter, the sound ringing in my ears. "Oh, come on, sweetheart!" she interjected, still chuckling. "I'm just teasing. Dreams can be funny and strange, and sometimes they reveal things we never thought about before. But don't worry, I won't let my big feet stomp all over your delicate sensibilities."

Her playful banter brought a smile to my face, dissipating the remnants of embarrassment. It was moments like these, even within the confines of a dream, that reminded me of my mom's ability to inject humor and lightheartedness into any situation.

As the dream unfolded, my perspective shifted. I, the miniature version of myself, found myself climbing the mountainous terrain of my mom's feet, navigating the ridges and valleys, like an explorer discovering uncharted territories. The dream became a whimsical adventure, full of laughter and joy. My mom's giantess persona had transformed into a figure of wonder and awe, rather than apprehension.

Yet, even in the midst of the dream's playfulness, a part of me couldn't help but ponder the significance of this fascination with my mom's feet. Was it merely a quirk of my subconscious mind, or did it symbolize a deeper desire for security and comfort? I couldn't deny the sense of safety I felt, even in the face of my shrinking existence, whenever I thought about my mom's feet—those feet that carried her through life, that were always there to support her every step.

As I awakened from the dream, I noticed that I was noticeably shorter than before, and wet again. Before I could get up to measure myself, my mom came into my room, and I realized that there was no need to measure up. I was now smaller than her. I quickly tried to hide my wet shame as she approached me.

''Oh, sweety... she said, her voice full of worry and affection. Being just around 5 feet tall, she easily grabbed me for a hug. I didn't resist though. I needed that show of care right now. But noticing her tower 6 inches above me was an odd experience. She seemed so much bigger now. Not only bigger, but powerful too, like an amazon or greek goddess.

As the days went by, I found myself turning to my mom more and more as I shrunk. I couldn't stop the intense feelings that those dreams about being tiny brought me, and with each single dream, I woke up a little smaller. She stepped into the role of caregiver with unwavering love and patience, just as she had when I was a child. She helped me with everyday tasks that had become increasingly challenging—reaching for items on high shelves, tying my shoelaces, etc. Each act of assistance left me with mixed emotions—gratitude for her unwavering support and a twinge of helplessness as I realized just how reliant I had become. I felt a sense of submission, like a child once again, seeking solace in the arms of a mother who was now my towering protector.

One morning after having a vivid another vivid dream, at the end of the week, I was only 4 feet tall. Not only that , but I had climaxed while sleeping once again, this time my sheets were largely covered with my wet shame, even my pillowcase got some of it! Looking at the mirror, I couldn't take anymore, and I started to cry on my bed. The once-familiar space I called home had transformed into a landscape of giants, where I was but a tiny figure looking up at a towering presence. The sense of intimidation loomed over me, casting a shadow on my already diminishing self-assurance. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I hunched over, my body curled into a small, vulnerable ball. I felt a mix of shame, shyness, and a lingering sense of intimidation whenever I stood beside my mother.

Suddenly, a playful voice broke through the silence. "Oh, come on, little one! No need to be all mopey and sad," my mom called out as she entered my room, her voice filled with lightness.

"Mom, please..." I groaned, but secretly, I was glad that my mom was trying to make me feel better.

My mom walked over to me and ruffled my hair playfully. "Don't worry, sweetie. We'll get through this together. And hey, think of all the things we can do now that you're smaller!"

''Mom, it's just that..'' I started, my voice trembling a little ''I've been having these dreams... where I'm very small, like the size of an ant... and you're so big, like a mountain...''

‘’Did you just call me fat, little man?’’ my mom asked in a serious tone as she squeezed my feeble arms with her long, powerful fingers. She was clearly just fooling around, but I was so agitated, my head spinning with questions and insecurities about my future that I’m didn’t pick on that. I’ll admit, I was a little intimidated by her size and stern eyes.
‘’No ma, of course not… that’s not what I me…’’ I started to justify myself.
‘’You know who’s also big, fat and scary?’’ She asked making a big, dramatic pause before continuing. ‘’The TICKLE MONSTER!!!’’ she suddenly shout. Without any warning, her long fingers started to make way to both my armpits and wiggling them!
‘’Mom, wha… UHAHA… Mo... sto AHHUAHUA, STOP IT!’’ I started to plead but with no avail. I tried to stop her but was no match for her newfound strength and relentless attack. She also knew all of my weak spots, which made her sudden ambush so effective. I managed to make some room for myself and tried to escape and make my way to the corridor out of my room, but she grabbed my left arm and, with relatively ease, resumed her attack. But this time, she went for my groin, which was one of most sensitive areas, and she knew! I started laughing hysterically and in my clumsiness, managed to fell down on my carpet floor. Seeing my vulnerability, my mom then gave all she had in a final relentless attack, kneeling besides me and ticking all over my stomach and groin. During that, she had the cutest smile on her face, loving the fun we were having. Eventually she got up to her full height. For a few moments I just stood there, looking at her loving what just happened. She seemed like a smiling angel or goddess from this perspective. We haven’t done this since I was a little boy, probably the same size I was now, and that was a long time ago. She was also looking at me with an adorable smile and still laughing a little from the whole thing.

‘’Ahahaha… come on sweetie, let me help you get up’’ and with that, she bent over, and with an unexpected strength, she pulled me from the floor. Looking up at her, I noticed that the top of my head was only up to belly buttom now! I started to look down, feeling depressed again.
‘’Mom, I think I just shru…’’ I couldn’t finish as my mom unexpectedly grabbed my cheeks with a beautiful hand almost the size of my entire face, and gently lifted my face to look up at her.
‘’I know, honey, I know.’’ She said calmly. ‘’I can’t imagine how this is been for you, Stevie. I know I look big to you now, but you shouldn’t be afraid of anything, especially me! I’m and always be you mother. And you are my sweet little angel’’ she said with all the warmth she could.
‘’You just HAD to put the ‘’little’’ in there somewhere, didn’t you’’ I asked jokingly.
‘’Oh honey, you always were my little angel! And I will be here for you no matter how small you become. You know that right?’’ She asked with confidence. I nodded my head as she headed downtairs to work on her laptop.

One thing that puzzled me was why had I shrunk a few moments ago. Maybe my mom's tickle attack was sufficient to start a shrink spurt on me... but she watched the news with me that other day, so she knows strong emotions may trigger the virus... does she not care? Did she forget about that?'' my mind raced with thoughts, causing an extreme sense of anxiety.

I returned to my room, where I spend most of my time nowdays, wandering about what was happening to me, and what the future may bring.

Current height: 3'7

End Notes:
Yeah, that was a big one I think. The shrinking got a little faster because I'm not that good on imagining scenarios between 5 feet and 4 feet in height. But from now on I will try to slow Steve's change a little bit. Again sorry if there is some inconsistencies and grammar errors. I will try to correct them in time. For now I'm focusing on the story itself.
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