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.

''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

Current height: 3'7

As my fascination with my mom's feet grew, it became increasingly difficult to conceal. Their mere presence seemed to command my attention, pulling me into a realm of curiosity and submission. However, this newfound captivation also carried a weight of shame and insecurity, reminiscent of the dreams that had haunted me.

One afternoon, as I sat on the couch, my gaze inadvertently fixed upon my mom's feet. The intensity of my scrutiny did not go unnoticed, and a sly smile played upon her lips.

"Hey, Steve," she said in a soft voice, "Why don't you come and sit on my lap? You're so small now, and I'll bet it'll be cozy."

I looked up at her with a timid expression, but crawled into her lap anyway. Mom wrapped her arms around me tightly, pulling me close. She couldn't believe how small and vulnerable I was, but she tried her best to hide her worries from me.

She stroked my hair gently and sniffled back a tear. "Remember when you were little and we used to do this all the time?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

I smiled warmly at her. "Yeah, I remember. It feels nice," I said, snuggling further into her embrace.

Mary's heart swelled with warmth as she held me against her chest. She could feel a sense of dominance beginning to stir inside her. I was so little now, so helpless, and she couldn't help but feel like I needed her more than ever.

As the minutes ticked by, mom found herself lost in thought. She had always been a caring and nurturing mother, but now that her son was so small, she couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of power and control over me. It was a peculiar feeling, but she couldn't shake it off.

Looking down at me, she realized that he had fallen asleep on her lap, snoring softly. She smiled softly down at me, her heart full of love and protectiveness.

A few minutes later I woke up, still laid on my mother's lap. My whole body was envelop by her, with my tiny legs resting on top of her thicker and stronger legs. As I sit there, I couldn't not look to what lied at the end of her expansive legs, her immense feet. Her toenails painted in crimson red paint, which matched really well with her bronze, tanned skin tone.

"You know, Steve, you've been staring at my feet quite a lot lately," she remarked, her voice filled with playful mischief.

I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck, my cheeks turning red. My mind raced, trying to conjure up an explanation, a diversion from the truth that lingered in my subconscious. But before I could respond, my mom continued, her voice teasing yet strangely inviting.

"I must admit, my feet have been aching lately. Would you be a dear and give them a little massage? I bet it would help alleviate some of the discomfort."

The request hung in the air, a challenge that I both longed for and feared. My mind swirled with conflicting emotions—desire mingled with a sense of unease and submission. The dreams of being small, of being dwarfed by my mom's feet, flashed through my mind like haunting specters.

Reluctantly, I nodded, unable to resist the pull of her request. It was as if an invisible force guided me toward her feet, my hands trembling with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. I got out of her embrace, and sank to the floor before her, a position that emphasized my shrinking stature and further accentuated her dominance.

As my fingers made contact with her feet, a surge of conflicting sensations coursed through me. The touch of her skin was soft, delicate, contrasting starkly with the size and power they represented. Each stroke and caress revealed intricate details—the arches, the curves, the tiny lines that told the story of her every step.

I marveled at their size, how they seemed to envelop my hands, dwarfing them effortlessly. The vulnerability that coursed through my veins intensified, reminding me of my own diminished stature. And yet, a part of me found a strange solace in this submission, a twisted pleasure in succumbing to a role that mirrored my dreams.

As I continued the massage, I couldn't help but notice the way my mom's face transformed, her eyes closing in blissful relaxation. The sound of her contented sighs filled the room, resonating in my ears like a melody of satisfaction. Each sigh was like a sweet symphony, a note of her pleasure and comfort.

Those sounds, like a spell, fueled my desire to pamper her even more. I yearned to hear more of those contented sighs, to be the one who brought her solace and relaxation. It was as if her satisfaction became intertwined with my own sense of purpose, as if my shrinking stature found purpose in tending to her needs.

In that moment, I relinquished the remnants of resistance that still clung to my spirit. The surrender to my mother's feet grew, entangled with a profound longing to please and care for her. I became consumed by the desire to serve her, to devote myself to her every comfort and desire. Still, I felt that I shouldn't be doing this. Deep down, I yearned for my independence.

But no matter what was wrong with her son, my mom vowed that she would always be there to protect and care for me, even if it meant making hard choices.

As the days wore on, my shrinking began to manifest itself in new and unexpected ways. Simple tasks that were once second nature became increasingly challenging, and the act of eating, in particular, became a source of frustration and anguish.

One evening, as I sat at the dinner table, I found myself struggling to grasp the utensils. The once-familiar tools felt awkward and unwieldy in my diminished hands. Each attempt to bring food to my mouth ended in frustration as my coordination faltered, and morsels slipped from my grasp.

My mom, watched with growing concern. Lines of worry etched upon her face as she witnessed my struggle. The combination of her worry and my own mounting frustration created a volatile atmosphere, ready to ignite at the slightest spark.

"Steve, please, you have to eat," Mary pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. "You're shrinking, and you need to keep your strength up."

The weight of her words bore down upon me, a reminder of my ever-shrinking existence. Yet, instead of evoking empathy or understanding, her concern stoked the embers of anger within me.

I looked up at her with a hurt expression. "I'm trying, Mom. It's just hard because I'm so small now," I said, my voice quivering.

But as I continued to struggle with my food, mom found herself growing increasingly annoyed. She didn't understand why I was having so much trouble, and she couldn't help but feel frustrated.

"Come on, Steve, you're taking too long. Just eat your food!" my mother snapped, her patience finally wearing thin.

My face fell, and she could see that I was getting angry. "I'm trying, but it's hard when you're yelling at me all the time!" I shouted, my voice cracking with emotion.

''I don't need you constantly reminding me!" I snapped, my frustration breaking through the surface. "Stop treating me like a baby!"

The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and resentment. The look of hurt that flashed across my mom's face cut through me, but I was too consumed by my own anger to fully acknowledge it. My sense of pride, my longing for independence, had become entangled in the web of my shrinking, leaving me feeling trapped and stripped of control.

As the tension escalated, I felt a wave of rage surge within me, building like a tempest. In a moment of impulsive defiance, I pushed myself away from the table, attempting to storm out of the kitchen, to escape the suffocating atmosphere. But my mom, fueled by her own frustrations and concern, stood in my way, blocking my path.

"What do you think you're doing, young man?" Mary's voice resonated with a mix of authority and disappointment. "You can't just walk away from the table like that!"

The sight of my mom, towering over me with an anger I had never witnessed, sent shivers down my spine. My diminished stature made her seem even more formidable, her presence casting a shadow of intimidation upon me.

"I-I just need some space," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't handle this anymore."

Mary's eyes narrowed, her frustration boiling over. "You think this is easy for me? Seeing you struggle, watching you shrink? I'm doing everything I can to help you, and all you can do is push me away!"

As her words reverberated through the room, I felt my body convulse, a strange sensation of shrinking overpowering me once again. I looked up at my mother, now towering over me at a height of 3 feet, my own diminished stature rendering me even smaller in her presence.

Fear mingled with my anger, a potent mix of emotions that threatened to consume me. The world seemed to close in, the walls closing in on me, as I shrank further and further. How could I ever stand up to her when I was reduced to a fraction of my former self?

In that moment, the realization of my vulnerability hit me like a tidal wave. The feeling of helplessness intensified as I witnessed my mother's anger directed at this shrunken version of myself. I had become a mere speck, insignificant and defenseless, in a world that now seemed larger and more imposing than ever before.

As I stood before my mother, diminished in stature at a mere 3 feet tall, a stubborn defiance still burned within me. The clash of emotions, the anger and fear, churned inside, fueling my resistance against her attempts to guide and care for me.

But my mother, Mary, was determined to prove her point. She saw my defiance as a cry for help, a sign that I needed her support more than ever. With a stern expression on her face, she seized the opportunity presented by my most recent shrink spurt.

"Steve, listen to me," Mary's voice resonated with a mixture of concern and authority. "You can't continue like this. You need to eat, and you need to respect me. You're my son, and I'm here to help you through this, but you can't speak to me that way."

I crossed my arms, a gesture of defiance, determined to resist her attempts to assert her authority. The feeling of being babied, of having my independence stripped away, gnawed at me, fueling my rebellious spirit.

"I don't need your help! I can take care of myself!" I retorted, my voice tinged with both stubbornness and desperation.

Mom's eyes narrowed, her frustration mingling with a hint of sadness. She stepped closer, her larger frame casting a shadow over me, a visual reminder of my diminishing stature.

In my anger, I spilled some of my food to the floor, in a futile rebellious tantrum.

''Clean this mess up right now, Steve. And don't you dare spill anything again," she barked, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

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"Steve, I understand that this is hard for you, but you can't do it alone," she said, her voice unwavering. "You're shrinking, and you need support. I'm here to provide that support, whether you like it or not."

With a swift motion, she reached down, her strong hands wrapping around my shrinking form. Before I could react, I found myself lifted off the ground, suspended in the air, my tiny body held within the grasp of her larger, more powerful hands.

I squirmed, a desperate attempt to regain control and break free from her grasp. But my mother's strength and determination were unwavering. With each movement, her grip tightened, grounding me with an undeniable display of her physical superiority.

"Enough, Steve!" Her voice carried a firmness that left no room for negotiation. "You need to learn your place and understand that I am here to take care of you. You can't continue defying me like this."

My struggles subsided, replaced by a sense of defeat. I was a small, helpless figure in the grasp of my mother's strength, a stark reminder of the power dynamics that had shifted as my body diminished in size.

With a determined expression, Mary carried me to my room, gently setting me down on the bed. She stood before me, her stature still towering above mine, an embodiment of authority and care.

"Steve, I love you, and I want what's best for you," she said, her voice softened with a mix of tenderness and sternness. "But you have to understand that right now, you need my help. It's not a sign of weakness to accept that support''.

I looked up at her, the feeling of intimidation and submission weighing heavily upon me. In that moment, I realized that my defiance, my longing for independence, had led me down a path of isolation and vulnerability.

She quickly stormed out of my room, closing the door behind her. The thunderous sound of the door crashing made my spine shiver.

The realization washed over me, a bittersweet surrender. The walls of my room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a reminder of the boundaries that confined me.

Current height: 3'0

Current Height: 3 feet

As the echoes of our clash still reverberated within me, I stood there, a mere 3 feet tall, consumed by a storm of anger and frustration. The confrontation with my mother had left a bitter taste in my mouth, igniting a fiery rage that threatened to consume me. In that moment, I sought solace in punishment, a twisted desire to inflict pain upon myself for my perceived failures.

My eyes fell upon my mother's discarded black flats, resting on the floor as a silent reminder of her presence. An idea took hold, like a dark whisper in my mind. I reached out, my hands trembling, and grasped the shoes, feeling their cool leather against my skin.

As I held them, a wave of perverse fascination washed over me. I begin stroking myself furiously. The image of myself being tiny, dwarfed by my mother's immense size, nestled inside her shoe, danced in my daydreams. It was a fantasy born out of my anger and despair—a desire to experience the full weight of my mother's dominance and power.

I closed my eyes, allowing my imagination to run wild. I pictured myself shrunken down, no larger than an inch, peering out from the depths of the shoe. The scent of the leather, mingled with my mother's essence, enveloped me, fueling a strange mix of fear and desire.

In this daydream, my mother's towering presence became even more daunting, her every movement magnified to colossal proportions. I could almost feel the ground shake beneath me as she walked, each step reverberating through the shoe, a reminder of her immense strength and control.

But as my emotions surged, my body responded in kind. A tingling sensation coursed through me, intensifying with each passing moment. I opened my eyes, a sudden realization dawning upon me—my anger, my emotional turmoil, was accelerating my shrinking, causing me to diminish even further.

Panic gripped me as I witnessed the world closing in, my body rapidly shrinking from 3 feet to a mere 2 feet in height. It was as if my punishment, my desire to be subsumed by my mother's power, was taking a physical toll, distorting my very existence.

In that moment, the twisted allure of my daydreams faded into insignificance. The stark reality of my diminishing stature, the loss of control and agency, hit me with an overwhelming force. I had longed to understand the depths of my mother's dominance, but now I was faced with the harsh reality of my own vulnerability and insignificance. The sense of vulnerability and helplessness intensified, leaving me yearning for solace and reconciliation. My clothes were now way to small for me to wear, and I was now practically naked. I quckly scanned my room for something to wear, but could only found my mother's large, black discarded stockings. She was quite a messy person and would often leave random things at random places. I picked up her stockings and used to make myself an improvised toga.

With a heavy heart and tears still staining my cheeks, I made my way to my mother's room. The magnitude of the fight we had engaged in weighed heavily on my conscience, and the need to seek forgiveness and comfort drove me forward.

In the dim light of the room, I approached my mother, her form a towering presence in the darkness. The sight of her, now even larger than before, sent a mix of awe and trepidation coursing through me. But in that moment, my longing for connection outweighed any lingering fear. She was wearing a dark red nighty, which come only to her knees.

"M-Mommy," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry for the way I acted earlier."

Tears welled up in my eyes once again as I wrapped my arms around her leg, seeking solace in her familiar presence. The word "mommy" slipped from my lips instinctively, a reflection of the deep vulnerability that had taken hold of me.

My mother's touch, her warmth, enveloped me as she knelt down, her expression a mix of understanding and compassion. She gently stroked my hair, her touch a balm to my troubled soul.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's okay," she whispered, her voice filled with a tenderness that eased my troubled heart. "I know it's been hard for you, and I understand your frustration. I'm sorry too, for pushing you too hard''.

Her words held an essence of forgiveness and understanding that washed over me, offering a glimmer of hope in the midst of my emotional storm. The realization that my mother, too, carried her own burdens and regrets, allowed empathy to bloom within me.

As I stood before her, my eyes were drawn to the expanse of her legs. From my diminished vantage point, they appeared thicker, more prominent, a physical manifestation of her strength and nurturing nature. It was as if my shrinking had brought a new perspective, a heightened awareness of the details that had previously gone unnoticed.

Feeling a surge of exhaustion and emotional exhaustion, I gathered the courage to make a request, born out of a deep yearning for comfort and security.

"Mom, can I... sleep in your bed tonight?" I asked, my voice small and hesitant. "I just... I need to feel close to you, to know that you're here with me."

Without hesitation, my mother extended her hand, inviting me onto her bed. With a mixture of gratitude and relief, I climbed onto the bed, curling up beside her, my body fitting perfectly within the space she provided.

As I lay there, the sound of her steady breathing acting as a lullaby, I found a sense of solace and reassurance. In the vastness of her presence, I discovered a safe haven—a place where I could surrender to my vulnerabilities.

As the night passed I slept peacefully beside my mother. Her immense, amazonian body next to me. I was sleeping with my back turned to her, as she held me in a warm embrace. But something woke me. A deep pain formed on my stomach, which was now growling - It was hunger. I haven't eaten nothing the day before, and that what started my fight with mom. But now, during the middle of the night, I was hungry. I laid there besides mom, not knowing what to do. ''Should I get up and go to the kitchen? No, probably not. I'm too small now to reach certain things. Should I wake up my mother? Also no... she was already tired from fighting me the other day, I don't want to give her any more trouble'' I thought to myself.

With my increasing hunger and stomach pain killing me, I turned back, facing my mother. But then what  I saw, and what was about to do, would change everything from this point on: Her breasts. As I turned, my eyes were met by her immense breasts, one of which was partially standing out from her fancy nighty.

Guided my instinct and a sleepy mind, I approached them carefully to no wake up my mom. My belly started to growl even louder, as it was saying that there, at the tip of that enormous breast, lied the food I needed. All boundaries and norms were lost to me at that moment, as I instinctively started feeding on them. After a few minutes pumping her nipples with my mouth, I took another shock, as her breast was actually lactating. I fed on her thick, creamy milk enthusiastically. Each drop not only satiating my hunger, but also my deep feelings of loneliness and sadness, as I was getting a feeling that I can only describe as true love and belonging.

Questions of how and why quickly appeared on my head. How was this possible? Was her body doing this because of my shrinking? Maybe her maternal instincts were so strong that even her body now was changing to supply my needs.

All these questions faded from my mind however, as I was feeding, enjoying my warm meal, I was again struck by the shrinking sensation. I quickly dwindle 5 inches, making me 1'5 now. My improvised toga was now too loose for me to wear, so it just became a blanked for now.

Even as I was shrinking, I couldn't stop feeding that delicious milk. In my sorry and infatuated state, I also became rock hard. As I fed, my tiny erection, covered only my my mother's stockings, was leaning, along with the rest of the lower part of my body, against my mom's soft and warm stomach. Waves of pleasure from my drinking and from my lower parts were almost overwhelming to me. I was having some intense feelings to be as close with my mom as possible, almost as to become one with...

My thoughts were interrupted as I heard a light moan coming from my mom's mouth. I looked up, only to see her awake, looking at me with a sleepy but radiant, maternal smile down at me.

''Hi, sweety...''

I looked at her giant smiling face with terror and guilt. I immediately stop what I was doing and tried to explain myself, but failing miserably.

''M..mommy... I, I was just...''

''Shhhhh'' she whisperd, cutting me of my feeble attempts at communicating . ''It's alright, sweetheart'' her voice ever so gentle. ''This is meant for you'', she said, pointing to her breast. ''My body was giving those signs sometime ago. I was afraid to tell you, but this is how things were, remember...? I know this is being so hard on honey. But you're still my baby, and always will be. Everything you're feeling is completely normal... she said, quicky glancing at my hard on, but trying not to make me feel bad. ''Please, don't be scared, let me take care of you'' she said, her hand, almost the size of my entire back, scolding my little body next to her again. ''M, Mommy, p, please, I'm sorr...''

''Shhhhhhhhhhh'' she shushed me again, this time, her enormous hand, way bigger than my tiny head, easily enveloped my entire head on her palm, making me feed on her again.

As I fed however, the amount of pleasure, warmth and caring that I was getting, was simply too much for me.

And I came. Twice in a row.

Sudenly, I begin shrinking again, a lot faster this time.

My mother saw this, but kept firmly holding me against her chest. I tried my best to struggle, but she was just so much stronger than me now.

''It's alright Stevie, it's all right.'' she said as I dwindle wet in her arms. As I shrunk however, I was presented by a sensation of relief, as if her growing figure, her almost godlike presence, towering over me with so much maternal care, and her words of affirmation, had released me from some of my anxieties. I continued to fed on her as I shrunk, now totally succumbed to her will and presence. But in a way, I was now more free than ever.

Current Height: 10 inches

It was almost morning as I woke up, naked and cuddled on my mother's breast. I was very tired, as if I had worked out intensely. My eyes started to open, and the images of the night before came to me. For a moment I thought It was another dream, but seeing my gigantic mother besides me, with her hand almost as tall as me pressing me into her chest, I knew that there was no dream.

With great effort, I managed to wiggle out of my mother's strong arms without waking her up.

I climbed onto her chest and belly, marveling at how gigantic she seemed now. She looked like a goddess to me in the dim light of the early morning. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for everything my mother had done for me and a desire to pamper her. As a way to thank her for her support, I decided to wake her up with a gentle early morning foot massage. Her feet were almost the size of my entire body, knowing how much my mom love foot massages, I couldn't let this opportunity pass.

As I massaged her feet, I noticed her making small, contented noises before she slowly awoke. Mom opened her eyes groggily and focused on the tiny figure on her belly.

"Steve? What are you doing?" she asked, surprised.

"Good morning, Mom," I said softly. "I just wanted to thank you for being there for me last night and always."

Mom was touched by my gesture. "You're welcome, sweetheart. But you didn't have to do this," she said, her eyes filling with tears.

"I know I didn't have to. But I wanted to.'' I said, looking at how distant I was from the rest of her body, and how her legs seemed so long and thick, almost like tree logs. ''You look almost like a giant goddess now mommy, and it just felt right," I replied.

We stared at each other for a moment, both trying to process the changes caused by my shrinking, until mom finally spoke up.

"I love you, Steve. No matter how small or big you are, you'll always be my son."

"I love you too, Mom," I whispered, my eyes filling up with tears as well.

As I continued massaging mom's feet, she smiled and decided to get a little playful with me. She looked down at me adoringly and said, "So, I'm a giant goddess now, huh?"

I blushed at the comment but nodded, affirming her goddess-like status in my eyes.

Mom couldn’t help but giggle before teasing me a bit with her foot. She wiggled her toes and gently nudged me, moving me around as I held on. "Well, if I'm a goddess, I should have some fun with my loyal subject," she said playfully.

I felt a mix of intimidation and excitement throughout this interaction. As his mother moved her foot playfully, i couldn't help but feel a thrill at her newfound power over me. It was a strange feeling, but deep down I found comfort in the love and trust I had for my mother now.

Mom continued playing with me, enjoying our bonding moment. And then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she decided to take the playfulness a step further (pun intended). She gently placed her foot over me and affectionately pressed down, acting as if she was stepping on me for a brief moment.

Surprisingly, I didn't resist. The sensation was both scary and exhilarating but I knew that my mother would never hurt me. Mom lifted her foot and couldn't help but laugh. "So, how did it feel to be under the foot of a goddess?" she asked teasingly. I couldn't help but grin. "It was a bit scary, but I’ll admit I loved it," I confessed, feeling a little embarrassed.

''Oh, you silly little thing'' my mom said, as she suddenly grabbed my head with her toes. I felt powerless as she effortlessly lifted my doll like body on the air. She had more strength on one of her feet than my with my entire body.

''M..mom! What are you doing??'' I screamed, my puny legs dangling into the air. To me I was what seemed  a good 10 feet tall from the ground that was my mom's bed. Even in her age she was very flexible. Seems her yoga lessons were good for something.

''I'm just giving my little explorer a good view from above!'' she said laughing.

''Mo, mommy'' I said weakly, ''put me down please!''

''Sure thing sweety'' she said, grabbing me with just one hand! She then stared at me for a moment, marveled by the size of her tiny son on her hands.

I was scared and tense of what just happened, as I have fear of heights. My mother saw my scared face and with a pout on her mouth, said ''Aww, does mommy scared her little angel? You're so worked up Steve!'' She said in a mocking tone.

And well, it seems you little friend also got a little spooked up'' she said, looking down at me. At first I didn't know what was she talking about, but then I saw. My penis was rock hard! I was not necessarily aroused, but the sheer adrenaline rush from being lifted on a humongous foot should have something to do with it.

My face became red as a tomato, as I tried to cover my genitals with my tiny hands. Seeing my despair, my mom quickly followed: ''Oh sweety, you don't need to feel embarrassed or scared. It's just the good old me, just a little bigger'' she spoke as a way to make me feel comfortable, as I still laid on her palm.

''But you know what should you be scared of?'' she said, her tone and huge face becoming more serious.

''The TICKLE MONSTER'' she yelled! ''Oh no, not again'' I thought as she, still still holding me with one hand, mercilessly attacked me with the other.

''Mo, mom! ahuahahah! Mom, mommy, stop!!'' I tried to beg her. I couldn't move a muscle as she held me with big well manicured hands.

''Tickle monster, tickle monster, tickle monster!'' she said repeatably as I laughed and gasped for air.

As we continued our playful bout, I began to feel strange as if the shrinking process hadn't stopped. I was now shrinking on my very mother's hands! She held as I reached 7 inches in height. I also noticed that also had ejaculated while laughing, making me washed with shame.

"I... I... I shrunk again, mommy," I said quietly, looking up at her with saddened eyes.

Mom frowned. For a moment, her heart ached for her son and his predicament. Then, she remembered the laughter they shared moments before, and she decided there was only one way to bring those smiles back.

"Alright, little guy, I see how it is," mom said in a playful yet concerned tone. “If you're going to shrink further, that means I'm becoming an even bigger goddess, and you have to worship me even more!” she said as she lowered me, this time, to the ground, making her look even bigger compared to my sorry frame.

She placed one foot ever so gently over me, pinning me down as she pretended to exert her power over me. “Now, be a good worshipper and massage this giant goddess’s feet,” she commanded, her voice tinged with teasing.

I played along, my sadness momentarily forgotten. I began to rub her majestic feet again, even though they now seemed overwhelmingly large. Mom felt grateful, having managed to bring some happiness back to her son for a short while.

''Oh Stevie, you feel so sticky!'' She said as she stepped on me. ''We should get you a really nice shower!'' she spoke, grabbing me again with her dexterous, tan skinned toes, and picking me up with her right hand.

Feeling totally like her little doll, we made our way to bathroom.

Current height: 7 inches