I open my eyes, head-spinning, an after effect of the shrinking procedure. Some time in my dull existence, I took a nap. I looked around the empty room, which was no better than a hamster cage—the blank walls staring back at me. A giant window in the front of the room gave me a view of the giant mudroom outside. This huge cage has become my dwellings for the summer; in the vast expanse of the mudroom, I see the familiar sights of the abandoned and discarded mounds of my family’s footwear; they littered the ground around my cage. It’s only been two weeks; I bang my head on my bed frame in frustration.
I was good at school; it’s just been this last year that my grades have been slipping. Everyone knows what happens when grades fall nowadays; it’s the same treatment that prisoners get. Shrinking was the new fad that most schools and, ironically, prisons have adopted, showing an increased average GPA after a sentence. It was beginning to make sense why no one would ever want to do this again; my entire existence has been staring at my family’s day-to-day activities or staring at the walls of the cage. I suppose some part of me should be grateful as if a in house sentence wasn’t bad enough, I could be in summer school; all I know is the urban legends about what goes on during summer school, and none of them are good. According to some of the things whispered from the grapevines, students who go through summer school endure three weeks of hell. It probably shouldn’t even be legal; I’m talking water torture stuff, shoe entrapment, salvia torture, hell I’ve heard someone say they got put up Mrs.Pepper’s ass for the entire three weeks, not that I wouldn’t mind that compared to this cage. Fortunately, my mom decided a while back that me and my siblings would be better suited for in-house punishment.
Now I spend my days in a prison-issued to every shrinky, not in summer school, not that it was a mansion or anything. The room that occupied the cage was gray and sterile, having only three floors, windows on every floor, except the bottom, the bottom being more of a traditional pen having bars and a lock be the only thing that separated a shrinky from the outside world. Now heading out into the house or the world might sound like a good escape. The shrinking made the participant more sturdy, able to withstand more pressure than an average human can. Frankly, the invincibility from the process is probably the only reason this process is legal. Escaping might sound like a good idea, but this would most likely be a death sentence; being one-fourth of an inch tall, a deep enough puddle could kill me and has killed shrinkys before. If someone was brave enough or stupid enough to wander around the house for the first two weeks, it’s normal for people to suffer from headaches and hormone changes; yours truly suffers from both; it was something about the body adjusting to the new perspective. These headaches during the adjustment periods make it very dangerous for a shrinky to leave their cage for long periods of time.
I hear the crashing sound of the patio door, and suddenly the towering form of my mother walks into the mudroom. My mother Caroline was wearing her cardigan over her scrubs, brushing her blonde hair out of her face. She stomps over to my cage and looks down at me. “How are you doing, John?” My mother says I can see what looks like pity flash across her face. I grab my headset, the headset multiples a shrinky’s voice, making it easily perceived by human ears. I sneer, “Oh, you know how it is, being a quarter of an inch tall in a cage is a riveting experience.”, “Honey, I didn’t want this; you had an ample amount of opportunity to tighten up your schoolwork.”, “This isn’t great for me either you can’t even help around the house, I can only hope that this works better than it did for your brother.” “Do you know what it’s like to have every one of my kids have to do the sentence,” My mom says shaking her head, rubbing her temples. “Ashley only had to do Anthony, and she made him give her a pedicure every week; imagine having to climb a foot that size just to paint some nails, John, be a little grateful .” My mother lectures. Mrs.Yang is what I know Ashely as she was one of my mom’s friends, she’s a teacher that teaches at my school, She’s unbelievably strict on her kids, I hate to imagine the punishment that Anthony had to suffer through or the fact that Mrs.Li seems to take joy in torturing shrinkies. My mother, on the other hand, naturally being a logic-based person, saw the data and decided that the punishment would be a good motivator alone. My mother couldn’t hurt a fly, though Mrs.Li would gladly rip its wings out.
“Brook straightened out really well; I hope you take after her.” Caroline scolds. “Yeah, we all know Brook is a well-functioning member of society,” I laugh. “Enough, We’re not discussing this, I’m tired, and my feet are killing me goodnight.” Caroline storms off her footfalls shook my prison, and her bare footsteps were making squelching sounds as they walked into the kitchen. I spy my mom’s abandoned pumps, their sweet vinegary smell crawling from the pumps into my cage; I am reminded of how I got in this situation, to begin with.
Something has awakened inside me since the beginning of this school year. All of my teachers were females; while not all were supermodels of sorts, they all carried the same trait, feet. My teachers seemed like they were torturing me, playing with the shoes, kicking their feet up during tests. It was too much for me; all I could do was stare. I imagined their soles pumping my cock; I imagined them gigantic looming above me, their soles becoming an ocean of wrinkles; I imagined them crushing me, stomping me, squeezing me. Now I never imagined my family members in any of my fantasies, but the combination of a lot of free time and no social life have left me feeling pent up. There just feet; after all, they don’t have to be my family’s, right? If these urges weren’t enough, many nights I have been haunted by dreams of being trapped inside my sister’s shoes, her laughing as her sock-covered foot lowered onto me. Dreams of my mother’s colossal mouth swallowing my minuscule form whole; even having my brother has joined some of my fevered dreams as he towers above me. I usually awake in a cold sweat with an unwanted hardness in my groin.
As much as It nauseates me, being forced to have my home by the abandoned footwears of my gigantic family, this urge inside of me keeps me from asking to move the cage. My mother’s shoe leathery, twangy smell rose to meet my cage, and I began my almost nightly routine. I travel to the bottom of my cell; the abandoned pumps far below begged me to jump to them. Was I going to? No. Was I going to ask my mom to move them? No. Though I truly feel ashamed that I am on the bottom floor right now or the fact that this is the third night in a row, I am here; Something inside me pulls me here. I know that Caroline doesn’t try to torture me like this, but sometimes in my fevered dreams, I wonder if a bit of her knows the torture she inflicts on me. I sigh, wondering how I got to this point in my life. My nostrils flared, taking in as much of the smell as I can, as my cock roared to life almost as if it was meeting the stench of my mother’s feet head-on, and a strange excitement rose in my gut. What if I jump? I could make it. I’m invincible, right? What if someone comes? How would I get back? Disappointed and disgusted at myself. Regret rushes through my mind as I walk back to my bedroom, feeling the guilt of even considering indulging. It was going to be a long summer.