My 13th birthday begged the question out of me that I knew other unfortunate late-pubescent boys had. The stool that gave me the boost I needed each and every morning to reach the mirror, and ask; "What's wrong with me?"

From there, every birthday brought the same question, until it numbed me. I would be stuck in my pre-pubescent, child like state for the rest of my life. I was a wonder to doctors, how I never evolved in the slightest; my soft skin, present cheeks, and boyish hair. It all stayed the same. There were no signs of a deformity in me; not in my blood, my bones, my genes. It was like my age had paused completely.
I struggled to learn to accept it, and that only became harder upon the death of my father-- of old age ironically. He was a rich man, and was no stranger to the young women he spoiled; my mother being his final example.
Monica was only 22 when she married my elderly father and became pregnant with me. Despite her young age, she already had two kids; a set of fraternal twin daughters, Allison and Alyssa. My father was so enticing to Monica, as he promised her college, and followed through with that promise, quickly buying her way to the top of the biological research food chain. To be blunt, her and her daughters treated me the way I always felt; like the runt of the litter.
As much as it doesn't pain me to say, I never knew my father that well. We were more like acquaintances, than a family. He was always away on business, if not cooped up in his office. Which is why-- this may be insensitive to say, but-- his death could not come at a better time in my life: my escape to college.
But that escape was shortlived. Fitting in was hard enough as a college student who looks like he's seven years young. In an unhealthy method of coping, I turned to drugs; specifically cannabis. The way that goddamn THC sticks to your body for a month is what got me kicked out, as my desired field of study-- medical-- required a drug test, unbeknownst to me.
So of course, mom had to pick me up due to my inability to drive at this size. The car ride stayed quiet, as I hoped it would, until she spoke up, "I can't believe you, Ethan."
I didn't respond, keeping my eyes out the window in the backseat, (as I can't legally sit in the front seat at this height).
"You know you're going to have to find a job if you want to live with us," she explained. "Money's gonna be tight with your father gone, so everybody's gonna have to pull their weight."
To which I replied in a bitter sigh, "Okay, mom," not even worrying about who the hell might hire a (seemingly) seven year old boy.
Any and all interviews I booked laughed me out of the room. The one establishment that took pity on me gave me a drug test, which I still could not pass.
I'd return home to find Allison and Alyssa lounging by the pool-- y'know, pulling there weight like mom stressed.
Allison peered from behind her sunglasses. "Hey kid," she often mocked me with that nickname, "Mom wants to see you. Dad's office."
Alyssa chimed in, "Mom's office now!" and laughed with our sister, as I sulked to the office.
The long hallway felt eternal as I approached my dad-- sorry, my mother's office where she actively boxed away his old books; the last of his belongings in this house. My footsteps carefully met the polished wood floor, as I snuck for no other reason but dread.
"M-mom?" I muttered in the doorway. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Ethan. I wanted to hear about your interview," she requested, sitting in the leather seat my father once sat, waving me to take one of the seats opposite of her at the desk. "I understand you got a bit farther with this one."
"Yeah..." I avoided eye contact with her, kicking my feet that dangled over the chair. "I didn't pass..."
Mom was dumbfounded, "Didn't pa-- you mean you failed ANOTHER drug test?!"
"Y-yeah..." I shamefully answered. "B-but I just don't understand how! I should be past the month it takes to flush out of your system!"
"Well obviously," mom concluded that, "you're still going out partying."
"That's not..." I knew she wouldn't believe me, "that's not what I did!" she never believed me.
"Oh I'm not dumb. I was your age once. I played dumb and partied. I drank like kids your age do, I had sex like kids your age do." I shifted in discomfort at the info my mother decided to share with me. "I can't even imagine the disgusting women who would sleep with you!"
It hurt my feelings, but I got what she meant; what woman my (actual) age would want to sleep with a seven year old boy? If not a real one, an adult that looked like one.
"Mom," I pleaded, "none of these things are happening. I'm not going out partying and sleeping around. I should have passed that drug test!"
"Oh really?" mom questioned. "Well then, why don't you put your money where your mouth is?" She shuffled through the desk drawer to pull out a little plastic jar, "If you REALLY believe you should have passed that drug test, then show me. I have one right here, good and ready."
"Okay, I will!" I snatched the cup and hopped off the chair to walk out.
"Hang on, Ethan," my mom stopped my exit, "I'm not done."
I turned to see my mother standing, opening another drawer. "If you refuse to take the test, I want you out of this house."
She stunned me with her audacity; threatening to kick out her only son. "I'm gonna take it, mom."
"If you're sure," she shrugged, toying with something in the drawer, hidden from me, "But you better be damn sure, because if you fail..." a pink, plastic tube with a lock was placed on the desk, unfamiliar to me.
"W-w-what's that?"
"Oh this?" she held it up and fondled it as if to inspect. "This is what we women who know how to discipline a man call a chastity device."
The shape of it started to clear up for me as she toyed with it in her fingers. "W-what uh... what does it do?"
"You don't know?" I didn't. "Well... pass the drug test and you won't find out."
I gulped at the possibilities this device could hold. "And if I don't I-"
"You'll have to find somewhere else to mooch." She smiled wide enough to squint her eyes, and tilted her head to the side, "Understood?"
I weighed my options, darting my eyes from the device to the cup in my hand. But I was confident that I could pass a drug test, and that my failure at the interview was a fluke. So I decided, "Okay, mom... I'll go take it."
Her voiced pulled me back in, keeping me from walking out with an, "Ah, ah, ah... come back here, young man." She curled her finger to direct me back in to the office, "I obviously can't trust you to take this test in private. You'll take it right here, right now, with me watching."
"A-" I turned bright pink, "are you serious?! I-I don't want to take my dick out in front of my mother!"
"Watch your mouth, young man!" she snapped at me. "Don't go thinking I haven't seen your little peepee before. After all, I am your mother."
The pink in my face darkened to red. I closed the office door and didn't speak, nor did I make eye contact as I unzipped my pants to take this drug test.
Which I failed.
I expected her to scream, but instead, mom gently, "Tsk, tsk, tsk,"ed at me as she circled to the other side of the desk. With the chastity device in her hand, she crouched down to my level, unbuttoning my pants and pulling them down.
"M-mom!" I protested.
"Do you want a place to stay, or not?"
"M-maybe I can just stay with aunt Paige!" I pleaded, crossing my knee to pathetically hide my dick from the device.
"She'll send you right back to me. I guarantee it," my mother negated my offer and took my dick in my hand, "Now, hold still while we start your punishment."
Even being the smallest size available, there was still some space in the device, due to my pre-pubescent state I was stuck in.The intricacies of this device's design equally amazed and worried me; that somebody at some point went to such great lengths to create the perfect prison for a man. It made me fear what else was out there.
The click of the tube and the clink of the key made me jump like a horror movie. My mother tapped it with the key to tease me. "There... that's perfect." She very inappropriately cupped my balls, ensuing excitement in my member that would never be fulfilled. I closed my eyes and tinged at the sensation, tearing up over what I'd gotten myself into. "That's the proper state of a hard-working little boy in this household."
"H-how long are you gonna make me wear this?"
"Until you can pass a drug test. No matter how long that takes. So for now..." she peered over her shoulder at the jar of my failed urine, not actually able to check anything from here but eyeing it as if to run a calculation in her head, "it's looking like you'll be locked up for a month."
My lip quivered at the reality I faced. While her assumptions of me being some sort of hardcore-sexed up partier were inaccurate, and while my aging seemed to stop before puberty, that didn't mean I didn't have needs; needs that I could fulfill on my own. That is, until today.
"This is..." a single tear dripped down my soft cheek, "this is so humiliating."
My mother stood from her crouched position in front of me, and swayed to her desk. "Well, you shouldn't have to worry about humiliation from anybody other than me-- well, and your sisters--" (I tried to interject here but she kept going), "because there will be no more partying for you. No more going out, unless I say so."
"B-but... but how am I supposed to find a job?!"
"Find a job?" my mother barked, "Ethan, you've proved to me that you CAN'T find a job! You need to detox, and you need to keep the possibility of failing another drug test out of your plans. And the only way we can do that, is by keeping you home."
"So what am I supposed to do then?! Wait around the house for a month with my dick locked up until I've detoxed?!"
A hard slam of mom's fist on the table made me shut up and jump as she demanded, once again, that I, "Watch. Your. Mouth. Young man." She took a deep breath in the collect herself, and bring her temper back down to zero, "There's plenty of work to do around the house. And with me and your sisters out working-- actually making a living-- it's only fair that you keep up with the chores while we keep up with the bills and what-not."
"Chores?" I prodded, dreading the idea like an aggravated child, "What kind of chores?"
"Well," my mother started, "with your father gone, we couldn't afford the maid service we had."
"Maid service?!" I protested, "Nuh-uh, I am NOT going to be the maid of the family!"
"Aw, what?" mom teased as she stood, "You don't wanna get all dolled up in a frilly French maid outfit, and dust all my books?" With her high heel raised behind her, she pretended to feather dust the biology books that would take over my father's former bookshelf.
I looked to my feet, unable, but trying to ignore the bulge of the chastity device from my pants, "Please don't make me do that..."
She stepped over to me and place her hand on my head, pulling me in for a half-assed hug that acted more so as a display of power. "Don't worry, son. I won't make you do all of that." Relief came and went over me as she followed up that comfort with, "If you're good."
My heart sunk deeper, well-beyond worrying over what she might put me through as I spiraled into desperation for sexual release.
"You'll be a good boy from here on out," my mother questioned, looking down at me, "won't you?"
I paused, but answered, "Y-yeah, mom..."
"I like mommy better," she smiled, "Call me mommy from now on, okay, son?"
I gulped down my fragile pride and obliged, "O-okay... m-mommy."
"Hm," she brought a finger to her chin in thought, "no. Try 'Yes, mommy,'" she demanded in a childlike tone.
I begrudgingly obliged, "Y-yes, mommy..."
"No, no, no," she was still displeased, "Daintier. Nicer. Sweeter."
I looked up at my mother, then back down to my imprisoned member. I took a deep breath, in almost a reverse sigh and in a sweet, colorful tone I uttered, "Yes, mommy," so excited and innocent.
She pat my head, "Good boy. Now," she took a step back to display her high heeled foot to me in an attempt to display her power, "kiss mommy's foot, son."
My jaw dropped, and quivered at her request, realizing what my role in this family would be now. Mom really was going to turn me into the new maid if I was bad, I just knew it. Her impatient eyes and just the tilt of her head toward me made me drop to my knees in fear, and debase myself toward my mother.
"That's it," she cooed as I kissed the top of her foot visible out of the high heel. "Now, say thank you. Always be sure to thank your mommy for everything she does for you."
Awful what-ifs passed through my mind, putting me into a sort of autopilot that made me say; "Thank you, mommy," as I kissed her feet, in a symbol of all my power being passed on to her.
I remained on my knees before her, hands in my lap, tears down my face, composure well kept in fear as I answered, "Y-yes... mommy..."
"Good boy," she responded. My mother strolled to her desk, where she took out two pills, one red and one blue. She approached me, and commanded me to, "Open."
I was hesitant, and had to ask, "W-what are you going to do to me?"
"Oh, calm down," she scoffed as she pinched the blue pill over my face in two fingers, "this is going to help the detox process."
I still questioned her request, but ultimately obliged, opening my mouth for her to drop the pill into my throat. I eyed the red pill she held, assuming that was coming next, but was surprised watching her take it herself.
"I want you to understand something, Ethan. Everything is going to be a privilege for you from now on. You no longer have any rights in this house, so long as you remain," she pressed her foot against the chastity device, "grounded." She smiled at my cringing face before crossing her arms and walking away. "Now, when I say that everything is a privilege, I mean it. Your sleep, your speech, your clothes, your food," she turned back to face me, "even your height."
With that, I began shrinking-- clothes and all. This is when I started freaking out; when my grip on reality shifted, and warped under her control. My mother shrunk me down to an inch tall, and stomped over to me fallen back on my ass, looking up at the awful wonder that was my mother. My gigantic mother. She looked like a skyscraper to me.
What'd you do?!" I shouted from what felt like miles beneath my mother. My tiny scream barely met her ears.
"Don't you know, Ethan? Your mother's one of the top ranking researchers of molecular biology." She lifted her foot, looming her high heel over me, casting me in a shadow. "And I've been experimenting." Her foot lowered, summoning a blood-curdling scream from me as her foot pressed me to the ground, slowly applying more and more pressure. Only my chastised penis was safe.
"I'm excited to see the first trial of a new drug I've created work so well," she continued, "You're going to be mommy's guinea pig. But before I can further my experiments on you, I have to test your durability." The pressure from her foot increased immensely. "How does it feel, Ethan? Does it hurt? Does it feel like you're gonna die?"
I screamed as well as I could with the little air I had left in my lungs, "Yes! Yes... Please... mommy..." For a moment, I thought I was going to die. For a while, I wanted to.
She lifted her foot, and stared down at me to see how well I could get back on my feet. Sure enough, I could. No broken bones. No burst organs. I was fine.
My breath shook, in and out as I tried to process what just happened. When she realized I was alright, my mother pushed the envelope further. "Time for test two," and lifted her foot to stomp onto me. She smashed me down so fast, I didn't even have time to scream before my world went dark, and the pressure jumped from zero to a hundred.
But again, her foot rose to reveal my undamaged form, weeping.
"Aw, what's the matter, Ethan?" mon cooed as she crouched to get a closer look at me. Her bent legs looked like behemoth structures unconstructable by any means. "Does it hurt?"
The pain subsided quickly, but, "Yes! It hurts so bad!" I wept and fell to my knees, "Please don't crush me! Please!" I scrambled to her heel and began kissing her foot, "I'm sorry!" and kissed, "I'm sorry!" and kissed, "I'll be good, mommy!" and kissed, "I promise!"
Mom pinched me by my shirt and lifted me up to her eye level. My body rose high off the ground in a matter of seconds like an amusement park ride. I screamed at the sensation.
"That's what mommy wanted to hear," she cooed with her red lips encompassing my entire field of vision. I felt her warm breath and she spoke, "So you understand now, don't you?"
"Yes!" I screamed, "Yes! I understand! I'll be good! I'll be good!" I wept through my cries of anxiety.
"You're going to do everything mommy says now, aren't you?"
"Yes, mommy!"
"And your sisters?"
"Yes, mommy! I'll do anything you say! Please don't hurt me, mommy!"
Her pearly teeth emerged through her curly, red smile. "That's mommy's good boy."
And with that, I grew back to my normal height; traumatized and ready for obedience.
"Now, come along," she gestured me to follow her out of the room, "it's time to fill your sisters in on your punishment."
I stood to follow until she stopped me.
"On your knees," he commanded, dropping me back down to crawl behind her. "Good boy."

 

I followed her down the hall, down the spiral stairs, and into the living room where she summoned the, "Girls!" to "Come in here please!" They had to have known what was going on, as they excitedly rushed to the living room to find me humbled on my knees before the couch, where my mother asked them to, "Take a seat."
Allison and Alyssa sat side by side with me in between, eagerly smiling to watch their (not-so-seven-year-old) brother knelt before them.
Alyssa asked, "Did you put it on?"
And Allison added  "Let me see," and pressed her foot against my groin to check for the chastity device. She laughed, "Oh my god, she did," and gushed with Alyssa.
"Did you give him the pill?" Alyssa asked, making me wonder how long they had this planned.
"Girls," my mother interjected, "calm down, we'll get to that in a moment. Now, you both know that I only have one spare key to his chastity," she took the spare out and held it up before them, "And I need to decide which one of you will take it."
"How are we going to choose?" Alyssa asked, eagerly.
"I want it first!" Allison barked.
"It's not up to you!" Alyssa argued.
"Girls!" my mother stopped them in their tracks. "I think that Ethan should decide."
She lowered the key down to my level; the key that could free me from this cock prison. "M-me?"
"Don't give it to him!" Allison said, "He's gonna take it!"
"He wouldn't do such a thing," my mother said, placing her hand on the back of my head, "Would you, Ethan?" and firmly clenched my hair.
And I knew what she meant. As I pinched the key to my chastity, quite literally surrounded by my family, considering my size could be at stake, I knew I didn't stand a chance, despite how close I was to freedom in that moment. I had to respond, "N-no, mommy..."
My sisters laughed at my use of 'mommy.' Even though I looked the part of a little boy who would refer to his mother as such, they knew their little brother was surely an adult.
"See?" my mother said. "Now go ahead, Ethan. Give your chastity key to one of your sisters."
I looked up at Allison and Alyssa, who could hardly contain themselves in hilarity of my situation. I truly felt pathetic bowed down before them, not at all willing but ready to pass off the key to my freedom to one of them.
It really didn't matter to me, I knew I'd be miserable either way. So I closed my eyes and held it out until my mother interjected, "No, no, son. Open your eyes and choose who will take your spare chastity key."
I begrudgingly obeyed with a, "Yes, mommy." 
My sisters both held out their hands, ready to take my key away. No doubt I'd undergo the most humiliating of tasks in order to reach any hope of freedom, no matter who I gave this key to. So I considered in my head with an 'eeny-meeny-miney...'
"Alyssa..." I said at the end of the rhyme in my head.
Alyssa pumped her fists in a cheer, squeezing the key in her palm, while Allison groaned, "Aw, what?"
"Don't worry, Allison," Alyssa teased, "I'll share him." I felt like an object at her remark.
"Not so fast, Alyssa," mom cut in, "it's going to be Allison who will be doing the sharing, first."
An open-mouth smile widened on Allison's face, as both Alyssa and I objected, "What?!"
"You all heard me," mom explained, "He needs to learn how to serve without reward. Because this is a punishment, and it shouldn't matter who holds the keys to his little weenie," my mother mocked, looking down at my blushing reaction and shifting discomfort with a smile as the girls giggled. "Ethan has to learn how to serve all of us, equally."
I spoke up, "But-" and was quickly cut off by my mother.
"Shush, Ethan, I didn't give you permission to speak." She continued, "Allison will keep him tonight while Alyssa and I write up a list of chores for him while we're all at work tomorrow. Allison, text me anything you need done that Ethan can't do for you tonight."
Allison grinned in response, "I don't think he'll have time to do ANY of my chores tonight."
With that, I started shrinking again, looking around in fear, up at my mother for comfort and answers. I turned my gaze to my new captor, Allison, who gave me such a look that answered my question for me. My sisters must have already taken their red pills.
I dwindled enough to sink into the carpet fibers, nearly reaching my knees. My sisters gushed at their newfound power over me, Allison remarking, "I can't believe this," plucking me from the ground, "This is so awesome."
Alyssa pouted on the other side of the couch, while my mother offered some comfort, "Don't worry, Alyssa. Remember the upper hand you have over your brother." She took out her key, now dangling from a chain on her neck.
Allison squeezed me in her hands, my shoulders up emerging from her fist. "You're all mine tonight, bro," she said with a threatening smile.
She stood from the couch, and bolted to her bedroom. I felt sick to my stomach as she sped through the house at her behemoth size-- at my point of view. I closed my eyes, which made the motion feel greater with one less sense to take my concentration from. So I reopened my eyes before I got sick, and watched the blur of the gigantic world around me.

The door closed behind us, with Allison's back braced up against it. She opened her palm to cradle me, toying with my body with just her finger. "You're so... so little..."

My body shrunk smaller, instilling more fear into me. I could easily run laps in her palm were it not for her hand lines deep enough to trip me at this size. She closed her fingers around me, "Like a cage..." she muttered in amazement.
I shivered in fear at the corner of my fleshy "cage," nearly weeping at the nightmare that was happening to me. My chastity was the least of my worries at this point.
Allison opened her palm back up to bring me to her eye level, amazed at my minuscule size in her hand, no bigger than her pinky nail. "My god... I can't even believe this is happening." Her batting eyelids sent a breeze my way. "I wanna let you in on a little secret, Ethan." She brought me lower from her eyes, down to her lips; supple and towering over me. I wasn't even taller than her lower lip.
She whispered, soft, breathy, sultry, and demented, "I want to kill you." Her smile only added to her twisted desires. Her teeth filled me further with fear. I could easily fit inside any of them.
My footing fell as her palm tilted toward her gaping mouth. "Allison!" I screamed, (I mean SCREAMED) "No! Plea-"
I was cut off when she closed her mouth on me. There I rested in the darkness, lying upon her tongue that stretched like two California king mattresses. There I wept, assuming my genius mother didn't take getting eaten into account with my invulnerability.
I stumbled and rolled about as Allison spoke, "I taste something salty." Her voice boomed around me. "Are you crying in there?"
I struggled between covering my ears or holding on for dear life as I answered, "Yes!" weeping and wailing. "Please don't eat me, Allison, please!"
"Why not?" she questioned, rolling me to and fro each cheek, "It's not like you'd die." I grabbed on to a tooth for dear life until she bit down, crushing my hands with such massive, sharp pain. "I bet it'd hurt though. Feeling the acid of my deep, dark stomach burn your skin to break it down, only for it to last through the pain." Her tongue maneuvered me closer to the back of her mouth-- closer to potential doom. I gripped her inner cheek for dear life. "Imagine sliding out of my nasty asshole, caked in the shit you were destined to become." She cackled, nearly bursting my ears, "Such a shame you wouldn't be. But I bet you'd be tucked away in a big nasty turd. I bet I wouldn't be able to even see you come out. Like a cocoon." She nearly couldn't finish her threats through her laughter.
Allison's tongue slid me further down, just barely touching the point of no return. I screamed, loud enough that it hurt as the opening of her mouth left my field of vision as I nearly slid all the way down.
Nearly.
I suddenly felt myself fire out of her mouth, spat onto her desk, covered in her saliva. I turned around to find Allison, seated at her desk, gazing down at me with lustful eyes.
"Let's get these wet clothes off of you," she said as she pinched my tiny shirt and yanked it up. I learned, very quickly not to fight.
"Don't take it personally, Ethan," she said as she forced my pants and underwear off, revealing the pastel pink cage around my cock. "It's not that I want to kill YOU specifically." She leaned in close, her haunting mouth approaching me, reawakening the trauma she set into me, "I've just always wanted to play with little people like you, and find all the different ways I can end them." Her massive tongue lapped up my entire naked (aside from my chastity cage) body.   I laid on my back, dreaded what would come next. Allison rested her chin on one hand while the other tapped a finger onto my trapped member. The sharp pain I felt upon impact knocked the wind from me every time.
"I wanna help mom with her experiments on you. Test your limits."
Her arm stretched out to her computer speaker, and turned it on with a click. "Was it loud in my mouth?" she asked.
I merely nodded my head, yes.
"So everything's louder at your size?"
Again, I nodded, yes.
Allison brought me to my feet with a pinch, and increased my size to bring me face to face with her speaker. A single finger nudged me closer, to which I obliged, as if I had a choice.
With a few clicks of a mouse, she turned on some music; incredibly bassy EDM, that shook my world. I fell to the ground and backed away, to which Allison so easily lifted me back to my feet and poked me closer to the speaker. The music was so loud and painful that it became indiscernible. I'd never heard a sound so loud that it made me weep. I tried to back away subtly, so she wouldn't notice, but again, she nudged me closer, so easily with a single finger.
She spoke behind me, but I couldn't hear it. I picked up on the word, "Fascinating," but that's about it.
The music stopped so suddenly that I fell to my knees in fatigue. "Seems like your senses are more... uh... sensitive," she laughed to herself on the inside, "I wonder how else you respond to other-- even just mild-- sensory input."
I never felt the need to catch my breath from loud music until today. Those sounds truly took my breath away-- and not in the beautifully touching way that music does. This was torture.
Allison stood and went to her closet. I thought about trying to escape, but the drop from her desk to the floor intimidated me, even though I knew I'd survive. The fear of falling kept me from possible freedom.
My sister emerged with one of her black, leather, high heeled boots. She plucked me from the desk and sat on the floor, legs outstretched with me in between. I felt her shrink my body back to the minuscule size that her pinky nail even triumphed. I sunk shoulder deep into the dirty, unvaccuumed carpet. Allison laughed at my struggle.
"Okay, bro," Allison started, "these are the-" she sniffed into the boot and grimaced, "ew... smelliest pair of boots I could find." Oh, did Allison love her boots.
With a pinch around my head, I was pulled from the fibers like a turnip. Allison laid the boot on its side, leaving the top open like a massive, dark, smelly tunnel.
She set me down inside the boot, right at the rim of the boot, and instantly, I could-- more than smell-- feel the hot, sticky foot funk in the air. It felt like its very own climate, foreign to her bedroom.
In a fight or flight response, "Oh god, Allison," I flew, scrambling back out of the boot, "No.. n-" falling and sinking into the carpet, trapped before the rancid cavern.
Allison picked me back out and placed me back where she wanted me, shining her phone into the hole to catch my reaction. Two gentle pokes, followed by a hard drive into my back knocked me over, deeper in the to foul cavern.
I propped up my my knees and looked back, "Allison, no..."
"That's not an option for you right now, Ethan," Allison said so matter of fact. "Now walk into my stinky boot, and take a nice big whiff when you reach the bottom."
I thought I could maybe feign the action, so I held my breath as I hesitantly crept deeper into her boot. My shadow on the insole acted as an awful reminder of the state I was in, as it shrunk into nothing when I met the bottom, Allison's phone illuminated on me like a spotlight. I kept my breath held tight from the smell, hoping to get away with my lie. The air around me burnt my eyes, causing them to water like an onion would. I started to walk back to the opening, hoping that would be enough to get away with.
"No, no, no, no, no," Allison denied my exit with the shove of her finger, sending me back to the insole; my back pressed against it, feeling the damp filth of my sister's foot. "I wanna hear you, Ethan. Take a big, deep inhale of my foot funk."
My lie became too hard to keep up, and I realized the corner I backed myself in. I was fucked. I held my.breath for so long to avoid the stench, but it became my only option when I needed air.
"Are you..." Allison noticed my face change color, "Ethan!"
Her scolding voice startled the boot musk into me. My lungs filled with hot, sticky foot funk, and regret. Maybe I should have listened in the first place. I gagged and dry heaved, unable to vomit thanks to the pill I took. Never has a smell brought me to my hands and knees.
"Allison..." I coughed and gagged, "please let me out of here."
"Wow, you really hate that, don't you?" Allison remarked. I couldn't see her face because of the blinding phone. "There's just one last little experiment I want to try before I let you out."
"Please, Allison..." I begged through my heaving, "I can't take this."
"Noted," she responded, "Now, for our next experiment; your sense of taste." The amount of dread I felt for her next "experiment" overflowed from me. "I want you to lick the insole of my boot."
"Allison..." I begged with little hope.
"Ah, ah, ah," she sternly remarked, "You have to do it, Ethan. Otherwise you may never get let out of that chastity device."
I turned to face the insole before me. Allison's light didn't quite reach to the toe, but the heel itself was spotted with black stains, no doubt from her foot.
"If it were up to me," Allison noted, "I would never let you out of chastity." Butterflies went mad in my stomach at the thought. "You're lucky our mother is so generous. Now lick the insole, Ethan."
Amidst the smell I struggled to get used to, I leaned in to the rubber sole, tongue out, not at all ready to taste.
"Do it, Ethan," she murmured, just a hair under her breath.
My tongue met the insole-- just the tip, in hopes of making this hell a little less-- and instantly the salty burn of her decrepit foot filth took over my tongue, almost like it spread from the tip. More dry heaving and gagging commenced.
"What's it taste like?" Allison questioned.
"Bad," I managed to answer between the painful empty vomiting.
"Describe the flavor," Allison wanted more.
I tried to think of some way to describe it, but took too long for her patience.
"Maybe you should get another taste," she suggested.
"It's... it-it tastes... like..." I tried to bullshit an answer to avoid having to lick it again.
"Lick the insole, Ethan. Stop fighting me." Allison grew impatient. "Lap it up with your whole tongue, none of this pussy tip shit."
I wept at her demand, disgusted at the pathetic little man (to the world, 'boy') that I had become. I approached the sole and closed my eyes, stretching my tongue out, flat. I slowly leaned closer to it, hoping the ignorance I had in my closed eyes would lessen the blow. Frankly, it didn't. It made it worse. I didn't notice on my first lick, but the sole was still damp with sweat. I wretched and screamed as I licked it, bawling in torture and humiliation.
"Good, Ethan," Allison cooed, "you're learning. Now describe the taste to me."
I didn't have to bullshit, or think about it. The answer met with my tongue. "It burns. Not like spicy, but... salty burning. But not like a salty burn that... that dehydrates you," all of this is managed through my gagging and heaving, "b-because... because it's still wet, s-so... so it's like... BO, and vinegar, and saltwater."
"Wow." Allison sounded unimpressed. "That's disappointing."
"What?"
Before I could speak any further, the shoe tilted, toppling over and leaving me at the bottom. I gazed up the tunnel-- her boot that became a pit to me, one that I sat prisoner at the bottom of.
"I want you to love that smell-- that flavor. You're going to have to learn to, Ethan." Allison couldn't hear my screams for help and mercy. "I'm going to bed. And I'm going to leave you in there," she looked down at me from the opening, "all night long."
"No, no, no!" I shouted, "No, please!" but she walked away, "Allison!" leaving me there to wallow in her filthy musk.

Bacon and eggs felt like heaven to me after the night I spent in Allison's hellish boot. I stood on the step-stool I've had for years to help me reach the counter at my not-so-seven-year-old size. Cooking was something that I picked up on from a nanny of mine when I was (actually) a kid, and I'm lucky I did, as I never would have guessed I'd spend the beginning of my adult life acting as my mother and sisters' slave.
I served their plates to them as they talked amongst themselves at the table. I took a seat with them to enjoy mine.
"Excuse me?" Alyssa barked, "Should he be eating breakfast when he has work to do?"
My mother interjected, "Knock it off, Alyssa. He needs to eat. He's being punished, not starved."
I locked eyes with Allison, who gave me a devious half-smile after her evening with me.
"But," my mother added, "the help should not sit at the table with their employers."
I scrambled to grab my plate and hop off the chair, fearing being shrunk again. "Oh, I'm sorry, m-mommy..."
"If you must sit," my mother scooted her chair back, "sit under the table while we go over your chores for the day."
I only hesitated a moment, enough that I don't think anybody noticed. "Yes, mommy," I said as I crawled under the table with my breakfast.
"Say thank you," my mother demanded.
"Thank you, m-mommy."
"Good boy," she responded, scooting her chair in to trap me, surrounded by the legs and feet of my family. "Now, Alyssa and I spent the evening trying to recall everything the maid did when we had her."
"You don't know what you had until it's gone," Alyssa joked.
"That's right," mother continued, "Which is why making this list was so difficult. I'm sure there's plenty the old maid did that we missed," I hated her use of the word 'maid,' "but I think you'll grow to notice these things that need done and take some initiative."
There was silence from the world above me. Alyssa gently stepped her high heel into my food, no doubt to tease me. I wasn't sure if they were waiting for a response, so I answered, "Yes, mommy."
Mother continued, "Now, to the list. Today, we want you to keep up with the dishes-- I want NO dirty dishes in the sink, understood?"
"Yes, mommy," I promptly answered, swallowing a bite too soon to stay quick in response.
"Good boy. That's more of an all day task to keep up with. As for today's specific chores, you'll be vacuuming, scrubbing the floors, scrubbing the toilets-- just clean the bathrooms overall, tidy up the bedrooms, organize the recycling, take out the trash if needed-- if not, then at the end of the day."
"Yes, momm-"
She cut me off, "I'm not done," I assumed that was the case. "Skim the pool, check the filter if it needs changed, get the mail, organize the mail, do laundry-- that should be higher on the list... oh, and clean our shoes."
Upon that last chore, Allison placed her foot on my back-- no doubt to signal to me that this one was her bright idea. At the very least, I knew my senses would be back to normal at this height. I just hoped the smells weren't as bad.
In a display of bravery, to put a damper on Allison's power over me, I confidently (and extra daintily, as mother liked) responded, "Yes, mommy."
"Good bo-" the clash of my plate cut her off, as she accidentally stepped her red-heeled foot on the rim, tilting it and spilling it over. "Whoops, sorry sweetie." She didn't acknowledge the mess any further-- I assume because she knew she didn't have to deal with it. She stretched her leg out to avoid the plate again, resting it on my shoulder, "There we go," I'd assume she did all this on purpose just to mess with me, but it was her, "Oh, that's nice," that lead me to believe otherwise.
My sisters finished their meals, leaving their plates on the table. My mom continued to lounge, using me as her dinner-table-ottoman further. I did my damndest to ignore the darkness up her skirt.
Time felt like it dragged down here, so I had to ask, "M-mommy?"
"What is it, dear?" she answered.
"D-don't you have to go to work soon?"
"Oh, no honey. I'm working from home today."
Great. That puts a wrench in any plans I may or may not have had to escape these psychotic women I called family. "Then why are you dressed so nice?"
"A webinar I'm giving on the shrinking pill I developed," mother answered, "Gotta look the part, even if they don't see down to your shoes. Which, by the way, could you rub mommy's feet for her? These heels kill me."
She placed her heeled foot onto my lap, "Yes, mommy," I answered, hiding my begrudged emotion.
"Thank you. I may just have to go without those. Not like they'll see my feet anyway." Mother sat back to lounge as she conversed with me, so uncomfortably casually as her son rubbed her feet beneath the dinner table-- like it was normal. "I had a company I interned for back in college that would make us send a picture of what we were wearing whenever we worked from home. I think he just wanted a picture of your mommy cause she's pretty."
I listened, but kept my focus on her feet, not responding to her remark, and not expecting her to expect me to.
"Ethan," she sternly caught my attention.
"Y-yes, mommy," my voice clamored.
"I said I think mommy's old boss thought she was pretty. What do you think?" My mother teetered between fishing for compliments, and manipulating me.
"Y-yes, mommy... very pretty."
She cooed, and relaxed further, "Good."
All this time rubbing mom's feet got in the way of my time to get these chores done. The dishes from breakfast were still up on the table above me, not to mention the ones I used for cooking.
"M-mommy..." I spoke, timid and cautious.
"What is it, Ethan?" She didn't much acknowledge me.
"I should really get to my chores today..."
As careful as I spoke, the scrape of the chair against the hardwood floor made me jump, afraid of getting in trouble. But that wasn't the case, as my mother slid back and answered, "You're absolutely right, you have a lot to do today." She stepped on a bit of egg of mine she spilled on the floor earlier, causing it to stick to her nylon encased foot.
The foot delivered the egg to my face. I struggled to hide my grimace when mother suggested I take, "One more bite to keep that energy up. You'll need it."
Her eyes stayed locked onto me; her little eighteen year old son, trapped in a seven year old body, cradling her foot by the heel and pressing his face against her toes to eat the egg from them. I felt like a baby bird, and she was my mother who regurgitated my breakfast out for me.
When I finished, I knew what she'd want to hear; "Thank you, mommy."
She smiled, devious and triumphant, "You're learning so fast. Kiss mommy's foot before I get to work."
I obliged, and she stood to her feet to stroll upstairs to her office.
"I'll ring when I need you," she said as her voiced trickled off up the stairs.
Right away I got to work, cleaning up the dishes to avoid any sitting in the sink long enough for mother to notice. A subtle chime invaded my head, interrupting my scrub of Alyssa's plate. I could hear it from upstairs. I quickly realized now what she meant by "ring" when she needs me.
I clamored up the stairs to her office, where a little bell rested idle on her desk. "Yes, mommy?" I greeted so begrudgingly sweetly.
"I left my coffee downstairs," mother started, "go fetch it for me."
"Yes, mommy," I answered, cringing at her use of the word "fetch."
I got it and went back upstairs, only to be denied, "Stop," in the doorway. "I expect anything delivered to me to be on a silver platter with the lid. Go try again."
Silent irritation simmered in me, "Yes, mommy. My apologies."
I ran back downstairs, found the platter set she was talking about, and made my way back to her office as quick as I could while balancing the plate.
"Here you are, mommy," I spoke in the dainty tone she expected, revealing the coffee to have spilled over a bit.
"It's spilled," she stated so blunt.
"S-sorry, mommy..." I wasn't sure how to respond.
She rolled her eyes, "It's probably cold now anyway. Go pour me a fresh cup."
My irritation built, but I kept my composure, "Right away, mommy."
As I walked out she suggested I, "Keep your posture straight to keep it from spilling this time."
I obliged, poured a fresh cup, and returned, revealing the unspilled cup of, "Black?" coffee. "That's not how I drink it at all, son."
"I-" my patience grew thin, but I knew I couldn't argue, "I'm sorry, mommy."
Her hand pinched the chastity tube from outside my pants, "You're gonna have to learn these things if you ever want out of chastity," she explained, "how we like our coffee, how we like things organized-- hell, even our preferred shower temperature."
I listened intently, taking mental notes, now fearing the possibility of getting it wrong. "I'm sorry, mommy. Could you tell me how you like your coffee?"
"It's okay," she let go of the tube, "this time, at least. Two creams and three sugars."
And with the snap of her fingers, I took off to the kitchen to re-reprepare my mother's coffee, and return, upright in posture and careful not to spill.
I entered her office, heart pumping in hopes that I finally got her coffee right. She didn't say a word, anticipating the unknown. I lifted the lid of the platter for inspection. No spills, good color in the coffee. So mother took the mug for a sip.
"Perfect," she said, filling me with relief. "Now, back to your chores."
"Yes, mommy," I said, adding, "Thank you, mommy."
I finished the dishes, and started some laundry. Everything has always been a struggle for me at my height, so this line of work was difficult. But I managed, suppressing the anxiety of not finishing on time, already behind after my mother's post-breakfast foot rub and her coffee--
The ring of the bell summoned me back to her office to fulfill any request. I truly felt demeaned by this whole situation, but I believe it's just what she wanted.
"Yes, mommy?"
"Mommy's feet are cold. Could you fetch my shoes for me?"
It took me a moment to remember where she left them, but I recalled our breakfast, promptly obeying with a "Yes, mommy."
I fetched the heels and returned, only to be denied because, of course, mother wanted everything delivered on a, "Silver platter, remember?"
I backed out of the office, located the platter and lid, and returned to her office, feeling pathetic as I was about to deliver my mother's high heels to her on a silver platter.
Upon my return, mother already started her meeting with her colleagues. I was hesitant to approach, but she waved me on. I tried avoiding the line of sight on the camera, but mother coaxed me over, no doubt on purpose. I awkwardly stepped over, avoiding looking at her monitor as I didn't want to see my shame and all those who would witness it.
I opened the platter to reveal her high heels, prompting a response from a fellow researcher of hers, "Wow, look at you Monica!" and another remarking, "Yeah, you're like a queen over there," and a third person, "Who's that sweet little boy serving you?"
Mother laughed and answered, "This is my son," and leaned in to tell them, "he's grounded."
A choir of understanding, "Ah,"s turned me red, as another person in the meeting said, "So he's kissing up to get ungrounded, huh?"
"Well," mother started, "I'd like to think that that IS his punishment. But it's all a learning opportunity. I'm gonna teach my boy how to treat his momma," she winced in a smile as she pinched my cheek, generating a collective coo of affection from the online crowd. "Go ahead," she turned her attention to me, "put momma's shoes on for her."
I paused, but realized any protest would be useless, as these people have seen me in my pathetic state. I dropped to my knees, and placed my mother's heels on her feet.
One person remarked, "You're Cinderella, Monica!"
Mother laughed and added, "I think Cinder-Ethan might be more fitting."
They all laughed.
I stood back up, awaiting orders. "Good boy," mother started, "Now run along, back to your chores."
"Yes, mommy," I said, red in the face at what just happened.
Some people laughed at how I addressed my mother, some tried to contain it but couldn't. I walked out of her office wondering if they knew what she did to me. The meeting had to do with the shrinking pill, so they must know that she gave it to me, right? I would have thought somebody would have brought it up. Unless she didn't tell anybody. Maybe snitching on my mom was the key to my freedom. But I couldn't do anything about that now, with her right there speaking to them. After all... I have chores to do.
I took to the bathrooms for cleaning, scrubbed the hardwood floors, vacuumed the carpet, rotated the laundry, tidied up mother's bedro-
The ring of the bell summoned me again. This time, I had my platter ready. "Yes, mommy?" I said, a bit more carefully, weary that she was still in her meeting.
"What's that for?" she asked in reference to the silver platter I had prepared for anything.
"Oh, I just... brought it just in case," I lifted the lid to reveal the empty plate.
"Okay..." she seemed weirded out, "Well put it down. You only need it when I ask for something." I obeyed, and set the platter on a nearby table. "Besides, mommy needs your hands."
"My hands?" I questioned.
"Mhm," mother answered so short as she stood to deploy her shrinking gaze upon me. 
"W-wait... m-ommy...?" Fear filled me, "D-did I do something wrong?"
"No, honey " she said as she approached me as I shrunk, "Why would you think that?"
"B-because you're shrinking me!" I shouted, knowing I'd have to for her to hear me.
"Well yeah," mother responded, so matter of fact, "because I can."
Mother plucked my shivering body from the floor and placed me on her desk. "Momma needs a foot rub, sweety." Her high heeled feet rose and plopped onto the desk before me. I was nearly the size of the spiked heel itself. As I waited for her to take her shoes off, she grew impatient expecting me to. "Come on now, take 'em off. I have another meeting in fifteen."
I jumped at her command, and grabbed the heel to tug. I was able to pop the back of her foot out, at least, but had to use all my strength to lift the rest of the heel from over her toes. I felt the warmth of her nylon foot radiate onto me. My shrunken nose and heightened senses enhanced the musky odor. Not as bad as Allison's boot, but still unpleasant. The beads of sweat neared the size of my hands; which she needed, like she said.
"Get to it," mother ordered so matter of fact.
So I got to it. I was able to get used to the strong odor that wafted from her mighty feet, but kept my head to the side to avoid it as much as I could.
"Allison tells me you're more sensitive to sensory input the smaller you get," mother said, leaning back in her office chair to lounge. "Do mommy's feet smell at that size?"
I wasn't sure if I should answer honestly, or lie; but I figured a lie might be hell to keep up with in regard to mother's smelly feet. So I answered, "Y-yes, mommy... they smell."
She snatched up a heel, "Well, I don't smell anything," and brought it to her face for a whiff, grimacing, "Oh... never mind," and set it back onto her desk. "Maybe she was right to suggest you clean our shoes today."
I didn't want to agree, but she was right. If I was going to be stuck as their servant, de-stinkifying their footwear would benefit me. So I answered, "Yes, mommy."
"I kinda like the smell," she said with a devious grin, "Not the smell itself, but what it symbolizes."
My mother brought her feet to the floor, and grabbed one of her heels, placing it over my body like a tipped canoe. The sticky air of her rank shoe encompassed me, becoming the awful air I breathed. It was easier for me to keep my cool thanks to the quality of her shoe, and my (arguably) larger size. Still, my eyes watered as if I sat in an onion.
"That smell is hard work, son," mother explained. "Something you have to learn about. Something I am going to teach you about."
Muffled within her heel, I responded, "Y-yes," coughed, and said, "Yes, mommy..."
"Breathe it in, son. I want to hear you inhale, and appreciate the hard work I go through to support you."
I hesitated; not to process her request, not to protest, but to collect my strength needed to bring myself to huff in mother's awful foot air. I made a large, audible inhale within her shoe, coughing at the result, and gagging in response.
"That's it," mother cooed, "that's a good boy. Breathe in momma's hard work. I want you to thank me for working so hard for you."
I swallowed my pride, (running empty), and answered, "T-thank you, mommy..." I took in another big breath of her musk, held back a gag, and continued, "Thank you for working so hard to support me."
Mother freed me from the shoe, lifting it up off of me and rejuvenating the fresh air in my lungs. She placed her feet back on the table to, "Continue," her foot rub.
I placed my palms on her soles and kneaded the flesh. Massaging her toes was like massaging a foot at my normal size. The nylon felt damp, and stuck to her foot from the sweat.
"I think you really need to learn how to appreciate us, Ethan," mother started, "Accepting the smell from our hard working feet isn't enough." Mother was tying a knot in my throat with her words. "You need to learn to enjoy it."
I worried about what she meant, and asked her, "W-what do you mean," mindful to address her as expected, "mommy?"
"I think I'm going to have to condition you," she explained as she picked up the bell she used to summon me, "like Pavlov's dog," ringing it to tease me. "Only, I don't think a bell is going to work."
Mother commanded me to, "Disrobe," for her so she could grow me back to regular size and remove the chastity device before shrinking me back down. I dreaded every second of what was to come. The fresh air on my freed cock was enough to induce a mild arousal.
"Lean your whole body in to my foot, son," she demanded.
I obeyed, resting my cheek on the ball of her foot to avoid contact with my nose.
"Press your face into it," she said, "I want you to associate this freedom from chastity with mommy's foot smell."
"Mom..." I groaned, feeling so incredibly violated.
"Do not argue with me, son." Mother sounded stern, and impatient. "You are going to learn to love mommy's smelly feet, whether you want to or not."
I wept, holding back my tears to smell her foot. I was at a point that the scent didn't bother me as much as the overwhelming manipulation she instilled on me.
"Kiss mommy's feet, son," she demanded, "And tell me that you love my smelly feet after every kiss."
I kept my mind fixated on nothingness, trying to go into some autopilot state where I might be able to keep my dignity, hoping that it would keep her conditioning at bay.
With each tortured kiss I planted on her nylon sole, I stated, "I love your smelly feet, mommy," throwing in some, "Thank you for letting me smell your feet, mommy,"s in for variation. "Thank you," I kissed, "Thank you," I kissed, "Thank you for working so hard for me, mommy," and kissed, "I love your smelly feet, mommy," and kissed, "I love them."
My mother watched my tears stream down from her molestation of my psyche. "There, there, sweet boy," she said in a soft, comforting tone, "You're going to learn." She pet my head with the toes of her opposite foot as I kissed. "You're going to learn to love mommy's smelly feet, one way or another."
When her downtime was up, she increased me back to normal size, locked me back up into chastity, and let me put my clothes back on.
"Now, go back to your chores, son," she directed. "Mommy has some work to do," she said with a wink.
I wiped the tears from my face, "Yes, mommy," and returned to my housework.
Mother's constant requests from me throughout the day, in addition to the violation of my psyche, slowed down my work immensely. Laundry wasn't done, the pool wasn't skimmed, and their shoes weren't cleaned.
When my sisters returned home from work, I feared punishment.

"Please!" I begged, drenched in saliva, shrunken down to an inch, surrounded by my evil older sisters, "I'm sorry! I'll try harder! I'll clean them all tonight! I swear!"

I was being punished for not getting to my shoe cleaning chore today. I've been reduced to an inch tall and spat on to the point that any additional spit is just a display of power, and not a punishment. I knelt between Allison and Alyssa, begging for forgiveness falling to dead ears. Beads of their warm, bubbly spit trickle down from the air onto me. I swear, it moves slower than rain. And I'm expected to lay here, nearly drown, and take it or else be punished further.

"What's he saying?" Alyssa asked, unable to hear my feeble voice at my size.
"I don't know," Allison answered, "but it's your turn."
A foamy drop of saliva emerged from Alyssa's mouth, and stretched out of her mouth like a stretchy slime.
"Open your mouth, little brother," Allison demanded.
Having endured Allison's torment before, fear became my driving force in this house; knowing what these women were capable of doing to me. I closed my eyes, and opened my mouth wide. The glob of Alyssa's spit filled my mouth, choking me as well as covering my body.
"Swallow," Alyssa ordered in her stern tone.
I managed to choke down her saliva, swapping spit in a way worse than incest. They laughed as I gagged at the bubbly warmth that dripped from my sister's bodies onto me.
"Enough!"
Mother interjected, saving me from my wicked sisters. My body expanded at her control, bringing me home to regular size, though still soaking wet with my sisters' spit. The snap of her fingers and the point of her finger directed me to her, "Heel," like I was a dog, on my knees, cowering in fear behind her.
After a few moments of silence, my mother cut into the room, "Don't get me wrong, girls. I get a kick out of all this too." I blushed in shame at her "kicks" she got out of "this." "But this is a punishment for Ethan. Not a game for you girls."
Allison broke a few more moments of silence, feigning a genuine apology, "Sorry, mom."
Same with Alyssa, who added, "We only wanted to help."
And of course, mother always sided with them. All my life I'd been the runt of the litter.
"Ethan," mom directed, "go with Alyssa." A smile lit up on my sister's face. "It's her turn to have you tonight."
I started crawling to Alyssa on all fours; the closer I approached the further she seemed to be as she shrunk me the nearer I approached. The collective chuckles from my family made me feel smaller than Alyssa actively did. She stopped me at four inches tall, where I knelt before here with my head down, simply awaiting orders from my sister.
After a long pause, Allison asked, "Well?"
Alyssa didn't break her gaze on me as she responded, "Hm?"
"What are you doing?" Allison asked.
"I just like lookin' at him down there." Alyssa swayed in eager planning, "So helpless and at my mercy..." My sister cooed in excitement. "Come on, little boy," she pointed her foot out for me to, "hop on."
Balancing was a struggle on Alyssa's foot, but the sock helped my feet grip. I grabbed onto her pant leg for security, and she strolled away to her bedroom. I felt far less secure than I did when Allison bolted to her bedroom yesterday, but safer thanks to Alyssa's casual pace. The whole world terrified me at my size; watching my sister walk from the point of view of her foot was like watching a skyscraper actively move before you; unnatural, unnerving, and dangerous.
The hardest part was holding on while Alyssa got onto her bed to lounge. As her leg raised into the air with me holding on for dear life, I let out a terrified, "Woah..."
Upon landing, Alyssa smiled and asked if that was, "Scary?"

I nodded my head yes, now standing on her shin as her foot bested me in heigh behind me. I was afraid to do anything but await orders.
Alyssa's opposite foot rose, and pushed me against the bony top of her foot I stood before. The powerful odor of a day full of work surrounded me as a blanket and a mattress. My eyes stung from the odor that I found myself learning to accept. I didn't gag this time, nor did I heave like I did Allison's, or mother's. Maybe Alyssa was just cleaner. I feared the former and hoped for the latter.
She lifted her foot to give me some air, and commanded me to, "See if you can get my socks off at that size."
Before I waste your time; I couldn't.
The tips of her toes were too high for me to reach, and I simply lacked the strength to pull from the opening of the sock. The sweat that made them cling to her foot didn't help, either.
"Poor thing," Alyssa cooed; her gentle tone leading me to believe something awful. "I bet it's hard for you at that size.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered back.
"Looks like mom's been training you pretty well, today," she responded at my use of the word 'ma'am,' "but I'd prefer the word, princess. Can you call me that?"
I felt silly, but I obliged; "Yes, princess."
"Say it again."
"Yes, princess."
"Again."
I tried to sound as dainty and eager to please this time, wondering if that was what she wanted. "Yes, princess."
Alyssa shivered in the royalty I made her feel like. My height increased at her control, commanding me, "Off the bed," when I reached such a height to do so.
I knelt at the foot of her bed; my seven year old size only allowing my eyes to poke out from the other side of the bed frame.
"You're still such a shortie," Alyssa teased, "even at your normal height."
She wasn't wrong, so I responded, "Yes, princess."
"Is that all you're going to say?"
I wasn't sure if that was what she wanted or not. If she didn't, my rehearsed response would be the wrong answer.
I took too long to respond, and Alyssa noted that, "If that's all you say for the rest of your life, that'd be great," with another light chuckle.
So I responded, "Yes, princess."
I still had yet to remove her socks, so I finally went to do so at my regular size. But Alyssa stopped me before I could. "Before you do that, I have to ask; what's it like in there?"
I was confused, afraid to ask any questions per her desire to only hear 'Yes, princess,' from me.
But she saw the confusion in my eyes, adding, "Your chastity. Does it hurt?"
No contest, I knew the answer; "Yes, princess."
"Do you want out?"
"Yes, princess," I answered eagerly.
Alyssa took the key out, dangling from the chain around her neck. She held it up before my face, teasing me. "Your big sister has the power to let you out of there."
My gaze filled with such lust over a simple little key, watching it twirl and shimmer on her chain.
"It's so humiliating," Alyssa added, "isn't it, Ethan? Can't even so much as touch your cock to go to the bathroom without permission from your mommy or sister." She scooted closer to hold it up in front of my face. "You like sitting on the toilet to pee like a girl?"
Her knowledge of chastity made me afraid of what she was capable of. Watching the key hang so close to me made me ready to do unspeakable things for freedom, so I responded, "Yes, princess."
Alyssa smiled, understanding why I answered the way I did. "Are you at the point of desperation yet, that you'd do anything to get out of that cock cage?"
I was. It'd only been a day-- only a few hours since mother let me out-- and I was so desperate, "Yes, princess." The yearning for freedom stemmed from the fact that the chastity device was on me, causing me to fixate on the what-ifs, and all the things I could no longer do that fostered arousal in me throughout the day.
"You're so easy," Alyssa teased. "If you're this desperate now, I can't imagine how we'll have you at the end of the month. Wrapped around our fingers, no doubt."
"Yes, princess," I responded, humiliated and agreeing solely for the brownie points.
Alyssa laid back in her bed, "Go ahead and take my socks off."
I sighed internally, regretting how I reacted to Allison's boot stench yesterday; wondering if I would've avoided all this foot stuff if only I hadn't tried to weasel my way out by holding my breath in there.
I peeled Alyssa's black sock off, revealing a horror before my eyes, that no doubt I'd have to take part in; same within the other sock.
Tucked away beneath Alyssa's toes sat little candies; once fruity flavored, and now footy flavored. The sweat that accumulated from my sister's work day as a waitress discolored the candy to its pre-colored white. As she scrunched her toes for air, the candy clung to her toes as if for dear life.
"Honestly," Alyssa said, "You don't even have to eat them. You can just pluck them up and throw them away." She fondled the chastity key within her fingers, "It's your stomach. I'm not gonna force feed you. Just know who's got the key to your dick's freedom here. I may not see any reason to let you out if I'm not impressed at how eager you are to serve." Alyssa stretched, and lounged further, cooing in relaxation.
"Imagine it," she started, still toying with the key, "you meet a girl, you get her into bed, but you can't do anything. Not without permission from your mommy or older sister."
I gazed into the sticky, nasty candies in Alyssa's toes, absorbing her words that painted such a reality for me.
"You'll have to tell her; 'Oh, I-I'm sorry. I-I have to ask my mommy to unlock my cock before we have sex.'" Alyssa laughed at the thought. "Or better yet," she said through her hilarity, "You-you go, 'Hang on a sec, I have to go lick the sweaty, nasty candies sticking to my sister's stinky feet before we have sex.'"
Alyssa was nearly in tears, and nearly brought me to the same in a brother/sister duality of comedy and tragedy. 
When she collected herself, Alyssa continued; "So it's up to you. I'm not telling you to eat them off my feet. If anything, I'm telling you to clean them. I don't give a fuck how, just do it." Her toes spread to show just how hard these candies stuck to her, "Just be sure to impress me."
The opening and closing of Alyssa's toes struck disgust and amazement in me, as the sticky candy never let go of her.
Only my teeth could pluck the once sweet, now salty candy from her damp toes. I was relieved to find that the power of sugar trumps the power of sweat, but the flavor of her day of work lingered in the outer layer of the chewy treats.
"Oh my god," Alyssa smiled, watching me swallow her toe candy, "that was so easy." She bit her lip in excitement at the possibilities of torment she could put me through.
When the pieces of candy were cleared from her toes, I took a deep, shaky sigh of horror at my actions.
"My toes are still sticky," Alyssa hinted, wiggling them to show me how they stuck, covered in her sock lint and various debris. "Clean them for me." She held up the key, covering my face from her point of view, "And remember, I don't care how," and laughed.
I winced at the thought of what I knew she wanted. I could go downstairs right now and get proper soap and a washcloth and clean them. But she wanted me to impress her, and I wanted freedom.
So I closed my eyes, and ran my tongue across the crevice where her toes met her foot. I gagged upon impact, but kept my cool through deep, tortured breaths of her foot funk.
"That's it," Alyssa cooed, sticking her opposite foot to my face and pulling away to display the level of sugary residue left over on her, "Clean it all up."
"Yes, princes," I responded before bringing her toe into my mouth.
"Oooh," Alyssa cooed as I sucked the sweaty, sugary residue from her big toe; and the next one, and the next one, and so on, and so on.
"Wow," Alyssa said-- to my delight, sounding mildly impressed. She pressed her toes to my cheek some more, grading my work on her disgusting toes. "Not bad, Ethan. Honestly. I think you've earned a bit of release."
Tears built in my eyes as I so gratefully said, "Thank you, princess."
"Stand up," I obeyed, "Come here," she directed me to her bedside. The latch on her necklace fostered the excitement I felt to be free again. At my regular size, my plan was to book it out the door once this thing was off of me.
Alyssa undid my pants, pulled them down, and cupped my balls with her hand. "Wow," I wasn't quite sure what she was feeling for, "you feel like you really are desperate." She laughed as she brought the key to the tiny padlock that trapped me.
"Oh no," she said, instilling fear into me that nearly made me vomit, "the key's too big, Ethan."
"W-what?!" I said in awful astonishment, "I-I must be too small. I-I don't know if I'm regular size yet."
"Hm..." Alyssa feigned consideration, "You look fine to me," she shrugged.
"N-no, I'm not," I begged, "P-p-please, Alyssa, grow me back! Please! Please let me out!" I cried, falling to my knees, begging.
"I can't make you any bigger than your normal size, Ethan," Alyssa explained. "That's how the pill works."
"B-b-but..."
"Why don't you escort yourself back down to the foot of my bed and stick my big toe in my mouth?" Alyssa directed, returning the chain to her neck.
"But..."
Alyssa sighed, "You're not impressing me, Ethan. In fact, you're undoing all of my praise I felt for you."
Before another 'But...' escaped me, I sunk my head and crawled on my hands and knees to my sister's feet. No longer begrudging or hesitating, no longer worrying about the smell or taste, I wrapped my mouth around her big toe, and sucked.
Suddenly, I felt my body dwindle; shrinking away as her toe felt like it grew bigger and bigger in my mouth. When I (quickly) reached the point of no escape from Alyssa's (now gigantic) toe in my mouth, I panicked; eyes darting, legs kicking, arms pushing.
"Stop fighting, Ethan," Alyssa demanded.
Deep, panicked breaths lead the way for my body to go limp, as Alyssa's big toe overtook every part of my mouth. My ability to breath was hindered by her toe gag.
Alyssa stared at me a bit, smiling. She took her phone out for a picture of me stuck there. Putting her attention back onto me, she played, "Oh, Ethan! I didn't notice you there! Poor thing. You want big sister's toe out of your poor little mouth?"
Speaking wasn't an option for me at the time, but trust me, I tried.
"Well, if you're not going to answer me, then I guess you can stay there the rest of the night," Alyssa more than threatened, delivering her promise.
The rest of my night was spent with Alyssa's big toe invading my mouth, locking my jaw to her foot; even as she bundled up into bed for sleep.

Carefulness was becoming a permanent part of my psyche; always keeping me attentive of the world around me, especially when my family was in the room with me. Silence also started to become the norm for me, only speaking when spoken to, and more times than not being, "Yes, mommy," and "Yes, princess." I was quickly becoming the devoted, servant son any mom would be happy to have.
I got my sisters ready for the day with breakfast and a packed lunch, and cleaned up the kitchen as they left. I skipped breakfast today, as my jaw still hurt from my night spent with Alyssa's big toe filling my mouth.
When it came down to mother and I, now just the two of us in the house, she gulped down her orange juice and stood from her seat. I stood on my step stool at the counter, washing the dishes as she said, "I want you to come to my office when you're done with the dishes."
She strolled away before I could even say, "Yes, mommy," with her in the room.
I entered her office after the dishes were caught up, and knelt patiently at her deskside with my hands neatly placed on my lap, awaiting instruction as she finished a phone call.
It didn't take long for her to catch my attention with the ring of her little bell. I feared the person on the other line hearing it, so I was swift in response to follow her finger pointing to her feet in the ground.
I truly felt trained by my mother when I took to her feet beneath her desk without hesitation, removing her high heel to...
I looked back up at my mother for further instruction, only worried about the person on the phone hearing her say, "Foot rub," when the words left her mouth so clearly.
As I massaged my mother's feet, I felt my body start to shrink. I panicked internally, tearing up but keeping my composure. What was she to do with me? Why do I have to be small? I'm being a good boy.
To keep up with her good side, I didn't stop rubbing her feet, no matter what size I dwindled to. My hands shrunk against her sole that appeared to expand before me. Thank god for the morning; my mother's freshly showered so her feet don't stink. I can't say the same for the nearby high heels, but I was thankful that my hands were touching clean feet.
After a while of performing a foot massage with my tiny hands, the bell rang again. I dreaded it each time I heard, as I was certain the person on the phone with her was wondering what that was.
Looking up toward my mother's face from under her desk, I watched a wooden ruler make its way down to me, guided by my mother's hand who directed me to, "Grab on."
I obeyed as she lifted me off the ground, filling me with fear of falling. Mother placed the ruler on her desk for me to hop on. She lounged her feet, crossed up on the desk on the opposite side I stood.
A snap, a finger, and a "Kiss," directed my attention to scurry over to my mother's feet, relaxing on her desk as I kissed to her heart's content during her phone call.
The embarrassment of the person on the other end hearing her filled my throat. The hypothetical was confirmed when I heard her say, "No, sorry I was talking to Ethan." The way she used my first name hinted to me that whoever she was speaking to knew me. I dreaded the thought of anybody finding out about me.
"Oh yeah," she continued, "I've been putting him to work." They had to know. I started shivering at the humiliation. Dreaded what-if?s loomed further as she pleasantly suggested, "Oh yeah, we'll have to get together sometime... I don't care, here or there works for me... Yeah, same..." I wasn't sure if the topic was still on me at this point, but my mother's responses made me fear that it was, "I know how it goes, I always have to double check my calendar too." A laugh followed before, "Okay, love you, sis," confirmed she was speaking to aunt Paige. Why did she have to get roped into this?
The call ended as I continued to slave away at my mother's feet, suppressing any hypothetical for my future. I kissed her soles as if I heard nothing. My mother stared me down, and I pretended not to notice.
"So," my mother began with a sigh, "you never got to cleaning our shoes yesterday, Ethan."
"I'm sorry, mommy," was all I could say, still keeping my attention on the task she currently assigned me.
"You still have to get it done," she explained, "but I DO have to punish you, son."
Getting better at hiding my hesitation, I responded, "Yes, mommy," so quickly.
"Unfortunately," she looked at her wristwatch, "I don't think we have time for both. So," she took her feet from me, causing me to fall over as I was midway to landing another kiss onto her toes, "here's what we're gonna do, son."
I brought myself to my knees before my giant mother as she explained; "I'm giving you the whole day to get our shoe clean, okay?"
"Yes, mommy," I answered. "Thank you, mommy," I added.
"But you have to remain at this size," she added, filling me with dread at the, now seemingly impossible, chore she assigned me. "That way I can properly punish you while you get your chores done." As if chastity wasn't punishment enough. "Do you like that idea?"
I answered how I assumed she'd want me to; "Yes, mommy."
Mother laughed at my dishonesty, "Shut up, no you don't. I know when you're lying, son." A single finger pet me on the head. "But, I'll leave it up to you; you either spend the day cleaning our shoes at this size, or get another month in chastity-- whether or not you pass a drug test."
My mouth dropped open at her threat. Another whole month? For missing one chore? No contest, "I-I'll stay this size, mommy."
Red lips curled, revealing a hint of mother's pearly whites that bit down on her tongue in the slightest. "Good boy. You're really shaping up to be a fine, obedient little boy with that chastity device on," she tapped it from outside my pants with her long red fingernail, clicking so lightly at my tiny size, "you make it hard even consider ever taking it off of you."
My heart pounded at the thought of being trapped in this thing forever, at the whim and beck and call of my mother.
"But," she added, holding her hand out for me to hop on, "a deal's a deal." Mother lowered me to the ground and explained, "As long as you take your grounding like a man, and pass a drug test at the end of the month, you're on the path to freeing your poor little dicklet."
I responded, "Yes, mommy," by force of habit, even though I knew she couldn't hear me.
"Now run along," she waved her hand to shoo me away, "you have a lot of work to do today, little boy." And with that, she topped my embarrassment and dread with a cherry full of laughter.
Traversing down the hall didn't take nearly as long as I expected it to, so long as I ran. Fully sprinting just about equaled my normal-sized strides. I figured I'd start with mother's room and...
Upon reaching mother's room, I realized I didn't know what I was doing. I don't have so much as a rag, let alone soap and water. I caught my breath and scurried back to mother's office, where she was having a video conference.
"--and..." she noticed me standing there, and an annoyed look quickly took over her face, "Hang on," she spoke into the camera before directing her attention to me, "What?"
My size grew only enough for her to hear me; about a foot tall. "W-well... s-sorry to interrupt your m-meeting, m-mommy, but--"
"Come on, son, mommy's very busy. What do you want?"
"I-I-I-" I was truly afraid and regretted my decision to return for further questions, "I d-don't have anything to clean them with..."
"What do you mean, Ethan?" mother asked in a tone that made the answer seem obvious to her.
"W-w-well, I don't... I don't have anything like... like a wash cloth, or..."
"Just lick them clean, son," she said so matter of fact.
I froze at her demand, "You... y-you want me to..."
With that, I started shrinking again, "Just get it done, Ethan. Take your punishment and get it over with."
Before I could protest or argue my case, the point in which she could hear me was long gone. And to top it all off, she left me smaller than before.
Mother couldn't tell, but I cried at my awful, day-long chore before me. I left the office and, with tears in my eyes, got to it; my first stop-- again-- being mother's closet.
At the very least, her shoes were well organized and reachable. I started with the nearest flat that only further pushed the point home about the hell I was in.
Black toe prints echoed further proof that these shoes were old and rancid. In fact all of these shoes lined up in mother's closet were familiar to me. No doubt none of these neared any standard of "fresh" by any means.
My lungs filled with stale vinegar with each shoe I entered, burning from my mouth to my lungs and everywhere in between. An added sting built as my tongue lapped up the black sweat stains that shaped my mother's foot; nearly impossible to remove regardless of tongue grease (as opposed to elbow grease). My only real tool for removing this salty shoe gunk was time, as these stains did indeed come out after what felt like hours of licking.
I emerged from a once-visibly dirty tennis shoe of mother's. My teeth felt filthy from the dirt and mud that my punished little tongue picked out of the crevices of the rubber bottom sole. One closet down, two to go.
Two to go.
I started crying at the thought of going through that two more times. I wept at how used to the stench I became, overcoming the gagging that was once constant when first introduced to smell at this size. I sobbed at my dry mouth, unsure of how I would even tackle one other shoe, let alone two more whole closets of filthy shoes.
In a desperate cry for a drink, I returned to my mother's office where she groaned as she expanded me up to a foot.
"What is it this time?" Luckily there wasn't anybody listening this time around.
"I-I need a drink of water... m-mommy..."
Mother scoffed, "So, I take it you're putting that tongue to good use, hm?"
"Yes, mommy," I responded, ready to say anything to cleanse my palate.
She stared me down for a moment, leaving me wondering what could be going through her twisted maternal head. "Well," she started, "a drink does sound nice right now." Without growing me any further than the foot she left me at, she demanded, "Go fetch me a glass of water."
Really? None for me? I figured if I obey, maybe she'll give me some as well. After all, I'm teetering off her good side, and need to totter my way back.
So I answered, "Yes, mommy," and proceeded to the kitchen, not questioning my lack of size.
Even with my step stool, a mere glass of water was quite the task at my size. But I did it with a bit of extra work. The water looked so cool and tantalizing. I was mindful to return with the water in the silver platter my mother demanded I use. The plate and lid were comical being so slowly and carefully carried up the stairs by my little one-foot body. The weight nearly took my arms, but I made it.
"Wow," mother praised, making me feel good, much to my humiliation, "you remembered the platter. You really ARE learning how to become mommy's good little servant."
Even worse than the good feeling I felt from her praise, I felt it further; shining through my "Thank you, mommy," that emerged so enthusiastically and naturally-- almost like an instinct.
Mother took the glass of water and chugged it down, placing the now empty glass now on the platter. My smile didn't change on my face, but switched from genuine to forced. I was so desperately thirsty with my filthy mouth, dirty from the bottom of my mother's running shoe.
"Let's see now," mother directed as she cocked my head up so slightly with a finger, "show me your teeth."
I smiled with my teeth, revealing the filth still on them.
"Oh my," she said through a laugh, "you really are becoming mommy's good boy." My filthy teeth acted as proof that I didn't sneak a drink of water without her permission. "Okay now, go fetch mommy another drink of water, son."
Another? Really? None for me? Was this a test?
I responded, "Yes, mommy," and took to the kitchen to repeat the above steps.
Upon returning, mother checked my dirty mouth again, and pat my head with a "Good boy," of praise. "Now, come here," she said, pointing under her desk.
I approached, and as I walked closer, I watched her pop one of her high heels off-- now ripe from hours of wear-- and tip a glass of water over her warm, clammy bare foot to drip into the fragrant high heel like a coffee maker.
My eyes winced as I watched the drink of water that she'd expect me to swallow. The bits of fuzz and filth made the water cloudy. To my personal horror, it still enticed me.
Mother brought me to an inch tall-- to my delight, bigger than when I tackled her closet. "Drink up, young man," she directed, "You still have a lot of work ahead of you," and laughed as I drank from the nasty high heel like a puppy. She bit her lip at the sight of me swallowing it down with all the dirt left in my mouth from her shoe-- all without her direction. "Better get back to it soon, thirsty boy," she mocked, "the clock is ticking, and you still have your sister's closests to get to."
My feet met with the floor, satisfied and disgusted as I saluted with a bow, "Yes, mommy," and took to Alyssa's closet next door to mother's.
Lucky for me, Alyssa was fond of open footwear; sandals, flip flops, etc. The smell easily dissipated without anything to trap it in. That didn't change the difficulty of licking up the toe prints she left behind. The bottoms weren't so bad either--
A chime caught my attention. Really? Today? Now?
I returned to my mother's office, suppressing my irritation, but ready for instruction. When she brought me to my normal height, I asked, as rehearsed, "Yes, mommy?"
"It's lunchtime, sweetie," (thank god, still half the day left), "go make mommy a sandwich, and yourself something too..." before I could oblige, she added, "Unless your belly's already full," with a smile and a wink.
And it was, indeed, full of all the nasty, sweaty shoe funk and grime. So I made mother a sandwich-- did it wrong-- made it again repeating her preferences to myself to instill it into my psyche, and returned with the silver platter to deliver her lunch.
"Good boy," she praised, "now, rub mommy's shoulders while she eats."
"Yes, mommy," as much as I didn't want to get back to work, I wanted to get back to work so I may ensure that this punishment goes no further.
I kneaded her shoulders as she enjoyed the sandwich, and continued for the lunch hour before returning to an inch tall and my shoe-licking duties.
Upon completing Alyssa's closet, unnervingly confident in my debasing effort, I took to Allison's, passing what was once my bedroom not long ago. I stopped at the doorway and stared into the empty room. All my furniture was put into storage with the plan being that I would take it back when/if I found a place of my own before/during/after college. While I spent the last two nights under far-less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements, where would I sleep if I were a good boy?
The already cracked office door creaked open further, where my mother emerged to use the bathroom. The sound snapped me back into focus, running to Allison's room to start on her closet.
"Working hard, son?" my mother inquired.
"Yes, mommy," I answered, even though we both knew she couldn't hear me.
She laughed at my little, pathetic body, running into Allison's bedroom for the sole sake of performing this humiliating chore put in place for me. She loved seeing me like this.
Allison's closet was a nightmare. There was little to no organization in it, and worse of all; she had a wide collection of boots that really kept the horrid stench and flavor in. The darkness they brought with them didn't help me either, as I had no way of knowing how clean the insoles were. The only sense I could go off of was taste. Once I no longer tasted the hot, stale, vinegary salt flavor, I assumed I was done. I truly feared the consequences if I wasn't.
The stench that stayed trapped in these boots made me dizzy and hot. I thought I was going to pass out from the cloudy stench that surrounded me-- becoming the air I breathed more than oxygen. Was this all really an effect of my reaction to Allison's boot smell two days ago? All the shoe licking and foot worship? Are they putting me through this because Allison found out I hate it? Who wouldn't hate it?
When I reached the end, the mess that was Allison's closet attacked; my manipulation of the pile I maneuvered causing a disruption to the method of Allison's organizational madness. I found my little body sealed inside of a hot--and growing hotter-- musky leather thigh high.
"No, no, no, no no..."  I screamed, and tried to push the opening, pinched closed by the sole of another boot landing on it.
When hope was lost, I screamed louder for what felt like hours, "Mom!" fearing death by suffocation, "Mommy!" wondering if death wouldn't be so bad in my situation, "Mommy, help me!" then remembering that I can't in this state.

My screams were not futile, as I heard the closet door open and the world around me shift. The light of Allison's bedroom beaming into her closet blinded me when it reached the bottom of this boot.
"Aw," mother cooed, "Did my poor baby get stuck in big sister's shoe?"
"Y-yes, mommy," I cowered, "P-please, help me, mommy."
She scoffed, "So sweet and pathetic," and dumped the boot over, sending me free falling and screaming until I reached her palm.
"I honestly can't believe it," she said, rubbing my tiny body with a finger, "You actually did it."
"T-thank you, mommy..." I said, catching my breath with fresh air as opposed to Allison's foot funk. "Did you really hear me screaming from in here?"
Mother laughed again, "No, honey I actually came in here to check on you because I have to head to the lab for something real quick. I didn't hear you until I opened the closet."
"Thank you for saving me, mommy." As humiliating as my situation was, I was still so thankful for my mother saving me as opposed to Allison.
"Of course, honey." Mother's eyes darted around the closet, "Your sister leaves this such a mess."
With that, she started growing me back to my normal height. My heart fluttered and relief blanketed me as my awful chore was complete.
"Go ahead and organize Allison's shoes for her while I'm out. I should be back by the time you're done, if not before."
I dropped to my knees the moment I reached an applicable height, and answered, "Yes, mommy," kissing her feet goodbye for some extra brownie points.
Mother placed a hand on her heart and cooed at my display of loyalty, "You really ARE learning to accept the role you put yourself in." I knew she was well aware of her choice of words. "What a good boy."
With that, she left for the lab, leaving me home alone for the first time in days.
And there I was. Home. Alone. For the first time in days. Alone.
I gave it a couple minutes upon her departure, to ensure she reached some distance before I bolted for the door. Maybe I didn't have the key to my chastity, but I didn't care at that moment. I'd go to a hospital and have it removed if I had to. I needed to get the hell out of here. I needed help.
The warm air, perfectly tempered to perfection by the Sun filled my body with joy from the outside in. I didn't have a car, a phone, or anybody to turn to in time.
Except for the police car I saw down the street. Oh my god, the police car down the street nearly made me cry with relief. Maybe I could have these insane women put behind bars.
I approached the car, where the officer rolled down her window; her eyes hidden by mirrored sunglasses. "Everything okay?" she asked what she thought was a seven year old boy.
"Please, you have to help me! My mother tortures me in there and I need to be someplace safe! Please!" I nearly begged this woman.
The officer thought for a moment before asking me to, "Get in, kid," pointing to her backseat. I didn't care if I sat where criminals once did, I just assumed I had to sit there because of some technicality; some rule cops need to follow or whatever.
When I settled in the back of the squad car, I asked, "Where are you gonna take me?"
The officer typed away on the laptop installed in her car, "Not sure yet, that's what I'm trying to figure out." I couldn't see what was happening on the screen, but assumed she was contacting her superior, or CPS or something. "We'll get you where you need to be, buddy. Don't worry."
For once, my deformity that kept me looking seven years old worked to my advantage. If I had to keep up the child act, I would for the sake of freedom. I would ditch the past eleven years of my life and restart as a seven year old, so long as it got me out of my mother's grasp.
And there she was. I ducked down in the kind officer's car to hide away from my mother as she pulled into the drive way, and in the garage. I shivered in fear until I felt the cop car pull forward. Thank god, she as taking me away from...
... my freedom.

Tears soaked my shirt as I begged the officer, who had me in handcuffs attached to a leather strap like some sort of hand leash. My words fell to dead ears as the officer ignored my cries and pleas, guiding me--by force-- to the front door of my mother's home.

Even telling the officer that I feared, "She'll kill me!" in such genuine sobs didn't work. This officer didn't care.
The doorbell swelled up the knot of fear in my throat; my body finding no place to put it as my tears reached their maximum level of water pressure.
"No!" I wept, and screamed, "No!" with nobody around these delightful suburbs to save me, "Please! Officer you have to believe me! Officer-"
"Julie!" my mother sung as she answered the door.
"Hey, Monica," officer Julie responded, still not acknowledging my weeping. Clearly, this cop was in on it. I wondered if she sat out front of our house on purpose.
I watched as the leather strap at my hands left Julie's control, and entered my mother's. The horror of a simple handing off from one to another. I truly didn't feel like I belonged to me anymore. I felt like a pet... like an object.
"I'll swing by for the cuffs when you're done with 'em," Julie added as she handed the key off to my mother, "Just text me."
No doubt, their casual demeanor confirmed my theory that Julie was in on this demise. It made me fear who else might be.
"Thanks, Julie!" my mother waved as Julie returned to her car.
Oddly enough, the scariest part was that my mother didn't scream, she didn't hit me. She just shrunk me down, still cuffed and leashed by hand.
Her mighty high heel popped off, and her bare foot kicked it onto its side. She then commanded me to, "Get in."
Any attempts at speaking up were useless, especially at the miniscule fraction of a centimeter she left me at. Tears of grief evolved from tears of acceptance as I crawled into the shoe. My mother's behemoth foot, red and clammy with sweat and a day of work, loomed over head, inching closer to the opening and taking any light away from me.
I wept, and murmured, begging her from where I curled, "Mommy..."
The outside world became no more to me. My world now resided within my mother's fragrant shoe. She shifted me to the tip of her heel, and shrunk me further so I could fit into the tip without being smushed.
With my hands still cuffed together, I scrawled forward. Her toes were like houses to me. I kissed them in hope of expressing my regret for what I did. I licked them in hopes of getting her attention. I truly felt like I worshipped this woman.
A car engine instilled deeper fear into me. Where were we going? What's going to happen to me? I can't die in this shrunken state, so scenarios worse than death popped in and out of my head.
Mom's heel popped out of her shoe, sending a wave of refreshing, cool air onto me. She tipped my means of transport over and directed me to, "Crawl out."
When my eyes adjusted, and my size returned to normal-- leash in mother's hand-- I realized we were at, "Aunt Paige's house?"
Mother didn't acknowledge my question, and made me be the one to, "Ring the bell," on the door.
Looking at my mother wondering how serious she was, I realized this was another one of her means of manipulating me to put myself into these situations. My shaky, cuffed hands approached the doorbell, and pressed the button, letting loose a heart dropping 'Ding,' and throat tying, "Dong,' into a knot that filled down to my stomach.
Aunt Paige answered the door, "Monica!" she said, sounding surprised, "I didn't expect you to visit this..." Paige noticed the cuffs and the leash in mother's hand, "... soon... Oh..." she realized what this was about, and revealed to me that this would be the plan if a more severe punishment was needed.
"Well that was fast," aunt Paige said directly to me, "I honestly thought we'd have to resort to this at the end of the month," in reference to me hypothetically failing another drug test. "Please," she turned her attention to my mother, "come in."
Mother yanked the leash to guide me in. I fought back, fearing whatever the hell was to come. My footing slid against the concrete, causing me to trip on the step into aunt Paige's mini mansion of a home.
I begged and pleaded with them, "No, no, no, no, please!" as mother dragged me through the home, "Mommy! Aunt Paige, please!" The wood floor left burns on my body as my mom didn't give me a chance to catch my footing until we reached the basement stairs.
"What's going on?!" I asked, begging for answers, "Please, where are we going?!"
"My god," aunt Paiged complained, "he does NOT stop talking, does he?"
"Well he was doing really well for a while there," my mother explained as her and my aunt led me down the stairs to the basement. "All I heard from him was 'Yes, mommy,' and 'Thank you, mommy,' for the most part." We reached the bottom of the steps, and turned the corner into the dark room. "I thought we were actually making progress."
"Well if you didn't make progress " aunt Paige put her finger on the lightswitch of the pitch black room, "you made your point." She turned the lights of the basement on, "NOW, we'll make some progress."
I'd never been in this room of my aunt's home before. Hell, it'd been years since I've been here. My cousin Victoria never wanted to play down here when we were little, because she said she didn't like it, but now I'm confused as to why a little girl wouldn't like it down here.
Pink, satin, tufted upholstery kept the walls of this room soundproof. An array of mirrors set up to see all angles of a body made a 'U' around a lit up pedestal, placed between a massive vanity, and a spinning display of over-the-top girly dresses.
"Ohhh my god..." I feared, "What is this?"
"Well," aunt Paige started, "you remember your cousin Victor, right?"
My mouth quivered, wide open in disbelief, "You don't mean..."
"Victoria?" Paige filed in, "Yeah. She wasn't born a Victoria," she explained in a terrifying, devious laugh.
My mother yanked me close to her, and whispered in my ear from behind me, "You really, REALLY should have just obeyed me son."
"I'm-" I was so frightened right now, "I'm sorry, mommy!" I dropped to my knees and began kissing her feet, "I'll do anything you say from here on out! I'll stay in chastity! Please, mommy! Please, don't make her turn me into a girl!"
"See, Monica," Paige said, "I told you he'd be kissing your feet if you brought him to auntie for some discipline," my captors laughed, "Didn't I? Didn't I say exactly that?"
Mother added, "You did, oh my gosh," wiping tears of hilarity from her eyes. She crouched down, not to my level though, still looming above me as she said, "You don't want aunt Paige to teach you how to be a good little sissy maid?"
I shook my head, no, and went back to kissing her feet, as I never stopped.
"Well that's not up to me, now," mother said as she handed my key off to aunt Paige, and the leash stemming from my handcuffs.
Aunt Paige smiled eagerly as the silver chain that held the key to my chastity lightly jingled as it came to a rest in her palm, and disappeared as her fingers covered it. "I'm excited to spend some time together, little neic- ope!- I mean little nephew." Paige grabbed the back of my head with the hand that held the chastity key. I felt so close, yet so far away. "It's been so long since I've had a doll to dress up and train." She let the key slide over my head and across my face to tease me.
I had to ask, in fear for my future; "W-what happened to V-V-Victoria?"
"Your cousin?" Paige began, "Well, she fetched a very pretty penny when she disobeyed me," my heart sunk at the thought of being sold, "Family members make more money," she winked, triggering me to cry further. "I haven't talked to Victoria in years..." she only filled me with fear more and more as she thought to herself, "Last I checked she was working in a sorority on the west coast." (Not that it matters any time but now, but the west coast is opposite from the coast I live near). "Poor girl had it in her head that she was still a boy, and had all these silly thoughts about a 'future,'" she used air quotes here, "so I gave her one to look forward to."
I looked around the room in disbelief. It was like some demented Barbie dream closet. "All of this for Victor?"
The ladies laughed, "No son," mother began, "Auntie Paige has a long history of training little boys like you to become prissy little maids."
"It's true," Paige added, "mothers who wanted a daughter, or who have a disobedient son, or who never wanted a child, send them my way for reconditioning." I felt as if I heard the gears whirring in my aunt's head.
My breath felt careful, like I wasn't allowed to comfortably breathe. I dropped my face to the ground in defeat at the power these women held over me, begging, "I'm sorry... I'll do anything you want," I planted kisses on both their feet, "Just please don't sell me... Please don't make me a girl... I'll stay here and be your servant forever and ever, mommy..."
A fate worse than dread overtook me as I pleaded with her. Here I was; bowing down to my aunt and mother, begging to be their slave in hopes that I don't get sold away to some stranger who might truly hurt me.
"Head up, Caleb," mother insisted, to which I obliged, "and take your punishment."
I was yanked to my feet, and my cuffs were undone. Aunt Paige stood by the step below the array of mirrors to welcome me in, as mother pushed me closer from behind.
"Am-am..." my footsteps stopped fighting her, but my reluctance kept me hesitant, "Am I gonna be able to dress like a boy again after if I pass another drug test?"
I tripped, but caught my footing as my mom forced me onto the pedestal. "Maybe," she answered, "Only if you're really, REALLY good from here on out."
I regret to say that I trusted her in that moment. Because this entire scenario felt insane to me.

Mother and my aunt Paige had to have spent hours putting me in all sorts of little frilly dresses-- none of which felt flattering in the array of mirrors around me, constantly reminding me of what I have become. But they settled-- as my first piece of sissy garb for me to don until further notice-- on a pink short skirt dress with sleeves out to my wrists that frilled at the end, and a petticoat beneath my skirt to puff it out. Paige had an collection of specially made panties that would both make my butt look "cute" (in her words), and display my chastity cage around my cock to be seen at the mildest lift of my skirt.

The makeup was the most gruesome part to me. Eyeliner is a pain to apply, even if somebody else is doing it for me. Watching my face transform, from my little boy features to a place between a girl and a dress up doll, was demeaning to witness. I looked in the mirror and didn't see myself anymore; I saw a sissy little girl who would play the role as an accessory to whomever was at the opposite end of my leash.
A blonde, curly wig sandwiched between my head and a ridiculous bow that matched my dress (for lack of a better term... far too) perfectly.
They guided me back to the mirrors, giggling to each other as if I wasn't even there. In my head, I wasn't.
"Perfect," mother said as they donned the finishing touches on me, "You're an artist, sis."
"Not quite perfect, yet," my aunt humbly declined, "He... or should I say, SHE needs a name."
"What?" I whimpered.
"Of course," Paige cooed, "you wouldn't want everybody finding out your a boy like this when you introduce yourself, would you, Ethan?"
Staring into my reflection in the mirror, I knew she was right. That'd be what gave me away if anybody asked who I was, dressed like a prissy girl. Surely, they'd know I was a crossdressing little boy.
"Hang on, sis," mother cut in, "I actually like that idea."
"What?!" I whimpered much more frantically.
"You heard me," mother added, "I think it'll add to your humili-- ...punishment if you tell people who you really are. So they know who they're talking to..." She hugged me from behind, looking at me through the mirror, cupping my chastity device, "You're Ethan... mommy's little, sissy son."
My mouth quivered at the thought. "Please, no," I begged, just a hair above under my breath.
"No?" mother questioned, "You mean you WANT to be a little girl?"
"Wha- N-n-no..."
"I'll make you a deal," mother started, "you can be a girl if mommy can keep you in chastity for a-whole-nother month."
I couldn't do that. Don't spare me the humiliation, I guess. I made the decision to skip town and never speak to my family again once this thing came off. Anybody who knows me in my hometown won't in a month. So if I have to be the sissy little boy, Ethan, then I'll take it. I guess.
"So?" mother insisted, "What do you say? Are you a girl? Or are you mommy's sissy little son, Ethan?"
I didn't come to my decision right away, despite my plan two paragraphs ago. I didn't have any time to think things through in that moment, so I answered, admittedly with my dick; "Ethan..."
"S'cuse me?" mother pushed.
I sighed, "Y-your... sissy..." I forgot her title for me.
"Mommy's little," mother corrected.
"Mommy's little..."
"Sissy son," she continued.
"Sissy... son..."
"Ethan."
There I looked in the mirror to recite it back by her command; "I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan."
"We'll have to work on that," mother said. "Paige?"
Aunt paige sat on the couch, admiring her work and the mother/son moment at play. "Oh we'll definitely be doing a LOT of work on him," she chuckled as she stood and approached me.
"What does she mean?" I asked, afraid.
"You're going to be staying with your aunt Paige for a while, Ethan."
"W-what?!" I protested.
Just then, as swift as my eyes could miss, a collar latched onto my neck, locked in place with a key that read; 'Sissy in Training,' followed by a leash in the hands of my aunt, who pulled me up off my feet, close enough to her face that I felt the warmth on her breath as she said, "I'm going to teach you how to be a proper, subservient little girl for your mother." She dropped me down, "Starting with your greeting."
Before I could ask, "M-my greet-" she cut me off.
"Look at yourself in the mirror," I obliged to aunt Page's command, "and go over how you'll greet people."
I stammered, "Uh... h-hi..." I said to my own transformed reflection, "I-I'm Etha-"
And before I could finish, Paige cut me off, "Wrong," not shouting or scolding, just stern and dominant enough to make me jump... and shrink before my very eyes.
"Wh-wha..." I looked around, then up at my mother, who shook her head no with raised eyebrows that drove the point of obedience home. She motioned toward aunt Paige, revealing the source of my slow shrinking. Of course she'd have the power as well.
"Again," Paige demanded.
I struggled into my composure, "I-I'm mommy's-"
"Wrong," aunt Paige declared again, shrinking me further, slowly sending me into a mild panic. "Say 'hi,' first."
I looked up at her, afraid, and said, "H-hi... I-I'm-"
"Wrong," aunt Paige said again, shrinking me now to a foot shorter than my regular height. "Don't look at me. I told you to look at yourself in the mirror."
"R-right..." I was trying to be good, no longer out of a desire for freedom, but out of terror.
"Wrong," Paige said again, shrinking me again.
"Tsk, tsk," mother clicked, hands at her hips shaking her head at me.
"B-but..." their sharp gaze silenced me, my eyes back to my sissified reflection in the mirror.  "I-I'm Ethan, mommy's little-"
"Wrong," they said in unison, both shrinking me at the same time which doubled the amount they took off of me, and doubled the rate at which I shrank. They laughed and each said, "Jinx!" like this was a game to them.
"Again, Ethan," aunt Paige demanded. "Feel free to get it wrong again," he bit her lip in excitement, "this is fun."
"You heard her, son," mother insisted through laughter.
Now I wasn't sure what to do here; get it right, or get it wrong? "Um..." 
"Wrong!" they both shouted with a cackle, shrinking me, now two feet smaller than my normal height.
"Oh my god," Paige said, collecting herself from hilarity. "I could do this all night."
"You want to?" mother insisted.
"I'll get the wine," Paige said as she departed upstairs, "Don't shrink him without me."
"No promises," mother added, moving her gaze back to me with a devious smile.
Paige left for the wine while mother firmly guided me back to the dresses to browse. "Lovely, aren't they?" she said. "You won't be wearing any boy clothes anymore, Ethan. Not if you don't get your act together, and learn to obey me."
"Y-yes, mommy," I managed to let out, trying not to let the wide variety of humiliating garb get to me.
"I'm serious," she added before crouching down from behind to whisper; "You can stay a little girl forever for all I care."
Aunt paige returned with a wine bottle and two glasses, setting them on the end table by the couch, and pouring herself and my mother a glass. She handed mom the glass, and clicked them together with a "Cheers."
They tugged me back to the mirrors, giddy with excitement. "Okay, Ethan," aunt Paige started, "try again." She sipped her wine, eager to watch me slip up.
"Um..." I already forgot the phrase they wanted to hear, "Um..."
Paige's lips smacked from her sip, and she so casually said, "Wrong," before shrinking me further, and laughing with mother.
"I-I..." I tried again, eye to eye with my sissified self in the mirror, "I'm... I'm my mommy's-"
"Oof!" mother taunted, "You got that much right, dear, but... wrong!"
I shrunk further. Quivering in my breath from frustration.
"You have to have confidence, Ethan," aunt Paige explained. "You have to want it," she said with a laugh.
My eyes winced at the thought of wanting this. "I'm..." the phrase started coming back to me, "I'm mommy's... little..." mother watched me through the mirror, eager as she edged me on, "sissy... son..." her mouth was wide in a smile, eyebrows raised in anticipation, "...E-Ethan..." I stayed silent, eyes shut as I waited for my judgment.
"Well," mother sipped her wine and looked over to aunt Paige, "he got the phrase right."
"Uh-uh," Paige answered in decline, "he needs to say it with feeling." She shrunk me further and explained, "You have to mean it," with a devious grin. "Now; eyes back on yourself, chin up, posture straight, and go."
"I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan," I repeated on command.
"Wrong," aunt Paige said, shrinking me without hesitation, now putting me two and a half feet smaller than my normal height. "It didn't feel like you meant it."
Mother put her free hand on her hip and tapped her foot, "Come on now, Ethan," she scolded in a playful tone.
"B-but, I don't know how..." I whimpered.
"Aw, poor thing," aunt Paige mocked. "Doesn't know how to sound like a confident little girl." She refilled hers and mother's wine glasses. "Tell you what. I'll give you some advice if you give yourself a little kiss in the mirror."
The women chuckled as I turned my attention from them, to myself in the mirror. I say 'myself,' but it truly didn't feel that way. I guess that made it a little easier, but no less degrading. So I approached the glass pane for a kiss, stopping when my collar choked me. I looked back at the other end of the leash, limp on the ground, and saw aunt Paige keeping it steady with a single foot.
"Go on, Ethan," aunt Paige demanded.
"B-but..." I pointed at the leash.
"Kiss!" she barked, well aware of her inhibition she placed on me.
I turned back, and stretched with all my might, actively choking myself in the process. My lips pursed out as far as I could push them; the red lipstick teasing my field of vision so slightly. I gagged from the collar as I nearly over extended myself to come lip-to-lip with my reflection, leaving a tiny kiss mark on the glass.
Laughter ensued between my aunt and mother, who clicked their glasses together in fun.
"Okay, sissy " Paige mocked, "if you REALLY want to know how to sound like a proper sissy girl," (I didn't), "you need the voice. You need to sound dainty and girly, like this;" aunt Paige gave a closed-mouth cough before speaking in an over-the-top girly voice, "I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan."
Mother laughed at Paige'a guidance, "Yeah, say;" and gave a similar impression, "'I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan, and I LOVE my mommy's smelly stinky feet!"
They shared more laughs as Paige had to ask, "Oh my god, really?"
Mother regained her composure, "Not yet," and sipped her wine, "but we're working in it," giving me a wink.
"Mom..." I groaned.
"No complaining," aunt Paige demanded. "Now, give it another go. The whole thing. Your mom's part too," she added, eyes lingering toward mother in a snicker.
"Yeah, son," mother said, "tell yourself you LOVE my stinky feet after work."
"Ew, Monica!" Paige pretended to gag, and laughed.
The ladies fumbled on each other from their cackles. I'd heard brief tales of my mother and aunt Paige in high school; the popular girls, the brats, the bullies. They took these traits into their adulthood, and showed no signs of stopping. I saw it in them as they mocked me like a twerp with his face in the toilet for a swirly. I waited patiently, exercising my mental muscle that took the ridicule. The effect it'd have on my psyche in the long run wasn't apparent to me then.
"Okay," aunt Paige started, collecting herself, "go ahead, sissy. Give it your best."
I turned my attention back to my reflection, quivering at my girly state.
"Before you fuck up again," aunt Paige started, "let me just..." she bent over me, nearly at a ninety degree angle and still looming above my semi-shrunken body, and adjusted it to her liking; posture straight, left leg slightly bent and crossed behind my right, hands at my back-- even down to my pointer fingers hooked together like a shy little girl. "There," she pridefully declared. "Now say it."
My quivering breath fought back at my suppression of it, feigning the confidence I lacked as I looked myself in the eye and said, in a dainty little voice, "I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan."
The silence in the room lead me to believe I got it wrong again. I anticipated shrinking, but was met with, "And?" from my mother, expecting more out of me.
I peered back at her, confused. "And?"
"You love..." she pushed further.
"I-I love..." the answer came back to me, "m-my mommy's... s-stinky..."
Mother smiled and nodded in anticipation, waving her had in a circle to coax me further, "Yes..."
"S-smelly..."
"Uh huh..." she said as aunt Paige's hand held back her laughter at her mouth.
"F-f-f-" I almost didn't say it, "Feet.."
"Keep going..."
Keep going? I couldn't recall what more she wanted until the reflection of her high heeled foot met my peripherals, "A-after work..."
"What else?" mother inquired further, testing me in either my devotion, or level of surrender.
What else could I say? Nothing honest, that's for sure, but what else did she want to hear? I thought about her goal here-- not my punishment, but to make me "appreciate" her foot odor. Though pandering, I couldn't believe I said some of the things I said here:
"A-and... first thing in the morning," I answered, mindful to keep up my girly tone.
"Oooh, good one!" she praised, "And?"
"And... at night."
"ALL night?" she pushed further.
"Uh huh..." I responded, begrudgingly.
"When else?" Why was she doing this to me? I know why... but WHY?!
"And... um... a-after a workout..."
"Oooh, yeah, on a hot day?" Paige could hardly contain herself at mother's remarks.
"Of course..." I tried sounding sincere, but my acting was futile.
Then Paige lost it, laughing hysterically at my humiliation and manipulated state. Her fit caused her to spill a bit of wine on the mini stage I stood upon, surrounded by images of my sissified self.
Thank god the pedestal was tiled, or else I'd never be able to, "Lick it up, sissy," out of a carpet at my aunt Paige's demand. The stain would have surely left one on my rear by her hand.
After a gaze timed somewhere between a glance and a stare, my knees approached the cold floor, my palms followed suite, and my tongue lead them both as I lapped up the bitter red wine. (Side note, this was my first ever sip of wine in my life).
"See?" aunt Paige turned here eyes toward my mother, still facing me, "It just takes a bit of degradation. Keep reminding him of his place, and he'll be eating from the palm of your hand."
"Or the floor!" mother laughed with her as they clicked their glasses.
"Oh," and also aunt Paige started after sipping some more of her juice, "Wrong!"
And I shrunk further as they laughed some more. And shrunk further, all evening, until I got it right. And I didn't start growing until I got it right; again, and again, and again. And I only grew fractions of how much they shrunk me. And I only grew if they were paying attention. Any subtle inconsistency would warrant my shrinking.
There I stood, up on my pedestal of humiliation while my aunt and mother giggled and gushed and gossiped on the couch, staring this sissy that I became in the eye, keeping my posture straight and composure dainty as I feigned eagerness within my girly tone, repeating; "I'm mommy's little sissy son, Ethan, and I LOVE her stinky, smelly feet after work..." and so on, coming up with other heinous scenarios where her odor would radiate the strongest.
Over, and over, and over.