"Aaaaaaaaaaaand done!" Lomasi said as she looked over the stall she and Morgan had finished setting up. There was some local festival going on, Lo didn't really know what it was about, but Morgan was excited, so it had to be ok, at least. But when she learned small business owners could set up shop in a section of the fairgrounds, she got excited too.

"Ok, tent top looks like it won't fall in. Merch is heavy enough not to blow away in the wind, looking good," Morgan said as she looked everything over, making her two-foot darling feel pretty loved and protected. "Now, my only criticism is your clothes."

"What? What's wrong with my clothes?" Morgan gritted her teeth and held her hands together, trying to find the best words for it. The outfit in question was a tan tunic with blue beads and feathers hanging from various tassels, and her heir was made up in a similar fashion.

"I didn't want to say anything on the drive over, but you look like a racially insensitive character." Lo just rubbed her eyes.

"Look, I know, ok. And not to be racist, but dumb white East Cost folk just fucking eat this shit up. Like, I'm pretty sure half of them actually think that First Nation people are magic, so I lean into the look for profit."

"I know, I know, this just seems to be a little excessive. And triggering a little white guilt, to be honest."

"If me exploiting cultural misconceptions about my people for money is bothering you, you should have told me before we came out here. It's not like I can just take this stupid thing off. I'm not wearing anything top side other than it."

"Oh, Lord!" Morgan then facepalmed. "Are you not even wearing a bra under that? We are in public!"

"It's a part of the magic Native thing, ok!"

"The only thing magic about you are your eyes!"

"Thank you, your gorgeous too!"

"Thank you! This is a weird way to end an argument!"

"Good, it fits how wonderfully awkward our relationship is!"

"Um, you two should probably stop angry flirting. They are about to start letting customers in." Both women turned sharply, glaring at the guy who set up next to Lo. He was an overweight man selling geodes and other locally scavenged pretty rocks, as well as polishing kits. "Just saying, it might hurt sales."

"Ok," Lo said, ignoring the man and continuing her conversation with Morgan. "Why don't you wander around for a little? I know you like this little local holiday thing."

"Ya, ok, I'll meet back up with you after I've cooled down a bit."

"Hopefully, making money will put me in a better mood too." She then moved in to hug her much larger girlfriend. Making sure to hug her hip, not wanting to be eye to eye with her lover's crotch in front of strangers. "Love you."

"Love you too," Morgan said, bending over slightly to hug her tiny soul mate before departing, earning a loud sigh from the rock merchant.

"Oh, could you at least wait until you get home to jerk it to random strangers?" Lo said as she got behind her stand, climbing onto a stool so she could be at eye level with standard-sized customers.

"What!? No, no, it's not what you think! I'm just lamenting that I'm probably going to die alone."

"Oh, don't be like that. I'm sure that a nice lady with shrink and find herself in a desperate enough situation that she could stomach being under your care."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Ya, sorry. I'm not really that emotionally invested in things working out for you enough to try and come up with something better."

"fair enough, stranger."

...............................................................................................................................

Morgan walked around for a bit. The smell of funnel cakes and insurance catalogs coming from the vendors reminded her of simpler times. When she and David were kids, they always gave their parents heart attacks because they would always wander off to see what was being sold. But any memory involving her parents always led back to the one when she told them she was going by she from now on. The things they said, the things she said back, the way David stood up for her, she needed a distraction.

"Morgan?" She turned to see who was talking to her.

"Petra!? You know, for people who live four hours drive from here, your family seems always to pop up where I least expect them."

"Well, this is my hometown too, you know. I wanted to be here for the Good Weather Festival." Before Morgan said anything else, she noticed that Petra was operating a stall. Above the pink-haired woman was a banner that said, Tiny Protection Society. And on the desk in front of her were catalogs of things to buy for tiny pets, a pile of books titled The Human Care And Treatment Of Tinies, and a pile of application forms to get a tiny pet.

"Well, this is... I want to say Orwellian, but I don't think that fits. Original Planet Of The Apesish?"

"Well, screw you too, red! My mistress put a lot of work into this!" Morgan jumped back a bit, only now noticing the tiny brunette hiding inside the hood of Petra's hoodie.

"Penny! That is not an appropriate way to act in public! Apologize to her this instant." She then grabbed the tiny out of her hoodie and held her up to Morgan. The fact that Petra seemed to have had her pet wear a shirt with the initials T-P-S on it, initials of an organization that, as far as Morgan could tell, was pro-tiny subjugation, was kind of fucked up.

"I'm sorry for lashing out at you, Mis. Summers." Penny said in a very unconvincing way. "It was rude of me, and I won't do it again."

"Th-that's ok. I was being rude too." Seeming satisfied, Petra returned her pet to her previous hiding place. "Do you normally keep her with you like that?"

"Only in situations that aggravate my social anxiety, and serving as the face of the organization is kinda doing that. Honestly, without her helping to calm me down every twelve minutes or so, I would be under the table crying for most of this conversation." Petra then tried unconvincingly to laugh it off, but Morgan could tell the poor woman was dying on the inside.

"Ya, I was kinda surprised to see you in this position. Sorry about the Planet Of The Apes thing, it's just, this seems kinda, dehumanizing for the tinies."

"I can understand why you would have concerns, but I promise, I would not be here if I didn't think this was helping people, of every size." There was a spark of conviction in the shy woman's eyes. She really believed everything she was saying. "We aren't just selling pet accessories here." Petra then picked up one of her catalogs. "Everything in this is solely to give those less fortunate as close to a normal life as they can. Toilets, showers, and tubs, beds their size, privacy barriers, even little kitchen equipment, a-"

"Excuse me, did you say kitchen equipment?" The women turned to see a man in his late thirties.

"Yes, I did, sir. Would you like a catalog?"

"Indeed I would. Ever since my wife shrank, she's been in a severe depression. Do you think being able to cook her own meals might help?"

"Did she like to cook before shrinking?"

"She prepared all the food me and the kids had eaten since the little ones were born. Not sure if she particularly enjoyed that, but I thought getting her back into a routine might help."

"Hmmm?" Petra thought for a moment before answering. "I'm no phycologist, but I know little about post-shrinking depression. It sounds to me like your wife liked her role as a homemaker, and now that she's no longer in a position to fulfill that preferred role, she's feeling a little lost. You see it all the time in career-oriented people, those people who want a fulfilling work life rather than just a job. Buying some things to help her fend for herself will help, but you should consider counseling. There's a number for a therapist specializing in this kind of thing near the back."

"Shit, she's not going to like that." He said, seeming a little disappointed that there was no quick fix to his problem. "She hates doctors, considers them kinda shifty."

"Your wife is no longer in a position to make her own decisions. I wouldn't suggest forcing her into doing anything, but in the end, her wellbeing is entirely in your hands, more than it ever had been before."

"I'll... Think about it. Thank you, miss, have a good day."

"I wish you a good day as well, sir." The man then left the two of them alone, and Petra was able to bring her full attention back to Morgan. "Are you still uncertain about what I'm trying to do here?"

"N-No, I was never uncertain that you are trying to help people. You've never shown any singe that you are any less the kind, caring, compassionate woman, I dated back in the day." Petra blushed wildly, looking away while she played with her hair. "But I think your comment about that man's wife no longer having a choice whether or not to get mental help kinda proves my point."

"I told him that forcing her to do anything was a bad idea!"

"But you also said that the choice was his at the end, not hers. I understand that some tinies can't make it independently and need people like us to help, but their autonomy should never be sacrificed. I hate saying this because conservatives use it to justify lax gun laws, but you shouldn't be asking people to give up their rights and liberty just to give them the basic amount of safety they, as living thinking beings, should already have."

"That's not what T-P-S is about!" Petra half screamed, startling some passers bay. She then fell back into a lawn chair and rubbed her eyes. "You really think I don't realize what the kind of living arrangement I have with Penny and the others looks like from the outside? That I never thought about the ethical side of this? The moral side of this is why I'm here, and it's why I joined the Society."

"I'm sorry I upset you, and I know you are a good person trying your best to help people who, from your perspective, can't help themselves. And I'm sure your pets' lives are lovely because of your care and devotion to their wellbeing. But I think that affection is a little skewed and that you might unintentionally be a part of the problem you're trying to solve."

"Ya, you said as much on the phone. Granted, you used smaller words then."

"What?" Morgan said, clearly confused. "When did we talk on the phone?"

"Oh, you don't remember that? F-Forget, I said anything!" Petra then pulled the strings on her hoodie, sealing her face off from the world.

"Oh, don't turtle on me! When did we talk on the phone!?"

"Last month, when you were drunk." The shy woman whimpered out from behind her closed hoodie. Morgan's eyes went wide in horror and shame as she covered her face.

"Oh fuck, what did I say?"

"Nothing much..." Petra then opened up her hoodie just enough to let one of her eyes be seen. Morgan did her best to suppress a blush. The woman could be so cute sometimes. "You just called me to say fuck you and that I wasn't being good right."

"Hell, Lo said I didn't do anything too embarrassing!" Petra made the conscious choice not to inform her ex that she performed said drunk call naked on the kitchen floor, eating banana bread. "Sorry to end this ethical debate like this, but I have to go strangle a goblin."

"O-Ok, sorry you had to find out about it from me. I hope you have a wonderful day."

"Have a good day too. You confuse me on an ethical and philosophical level, but honestly, if every tiny owner were like you, the world would be a better place." Morgan then walked off to the other side of the fairgrounds. A few moments after she left, Penny decided to make her opinion known.

"Who does that sanctimonious bitch think she is? If she cares about tinies so much, she should put her money where her mouth is."

"Oh, don't be too made, sweety," Petra said as she moved her hand into her hoodie, petting her little friend, to said tinies delight as she moved with the hand stroking her from head to down her spine. "D-Did she make a good point? Do I give you little ones enough personal freedom?" She felt Penny go tense, and the fact that she didn't respond immediately was all the answer she needed. "I see... What should I do to fix that?"

"Well... As much as I don't like it, some of the others have become interested in what that Enclave jerk was saying. And they are, well, afraid isn't the right word. We know you won't hurt us, but they are concerned that you wouldn't let them leave, so they don't try. After all, you give us a better life than most our size could hope for. Why risk rocking the boat by making you upset at us?"

"So... To be better... I have to be ready to let you go?"

"Me, never. I'm going to remain by your side as long as you'll have me. But Marcus, Susan, and maybe Drake have never liked being pets. Maybe once they spend some time fighting for their lives in the wilds, they'll come to their senses and appreciate you like I do~."

"Or maybe they will find themselves thriving in ways I could never help them to?" It was an odd concept for Petra to come to terms with, but maybe there was something to it. She would have to think about it a little more. She wanted her pets to have fulfilling and happy lives, and if that meant letting them struggle and fight for what they got instead of handing it to them on a silver platter, then would it not be kinder to let them live on their own terms? Even if they suffered, got hurt, or even died, how far should she let independence go, and how much care is smothering?

...............................................................................................................................

"Come on, little man, work with me here," Candie said to her son, but little Ezekiel, Ezel for short, was stubborn about not wanting this particular mush for lunch. "Here comes the plane, coming in for a landing. Better open up the hanger, or everyone will die." Candie said while moving the spoon to her child's face, but the young man was unmoved by the plight of the imaginary plane passengers. "Look, if you want a cookie after, you gotta get the past down. That's just life."

"Ooogy! Ooogy! Ooogy!" Ezel screamed as he slammed his fists on the baby seat. Making his mother quite frustrated.

"You shouldn't have mentioned cookies. Now that's all he's going to want," Clar said as she took the large plate of chicken nuggets out of the microwave.

"Your advice on motherhood is greatly appreciated," Candie said in a dead pane tone. "And I hope you've found it in your heart to make your overworked mother some lunch. Otherwise, that is too much food for you, young lady."

"Aunt P asked me to feed her pets while she's out of town today. And I figured this would be good enough for them. I mean, they're just people but smaller."

"Wow, even I'm not allowed upstairs except for emergencies. What did you do, squee at the appropriate volume when you saw the newborns?"

"Ew, no!" Clar said, waving her spare hand at her mother. "I'm not one of those girly girls that wanna grow up to shoot out babies for a prince or CEO husband. I'm a rugged bad girl who lives by no law but my own." Candie just rolled her eyes.

"You know, you don't have to reject femininity to be tough, right? I mean, being a woman isn't synonymous with being weak."

"I'm not stupid, mom! I just know what I like!"

"Wow, wow, no need to shoot, kiddo. Just trying to be motherly is all." Candie said, holding her hands up like she was being robbed. Ezel, not really understanding the situation, held up his hands too, probably thinking they were playing a game.

"Whatever, I'm heading up to feed the tinies."

"That's still too much food for-"

"I'm having lunch with them! God, get off my back!" The seven-year-old screamed as she stomped up the stairs.

"Walk like a person, not a kangaroo! Man, she has some tempe-" She was then speechless as her baby boy had picked up the small cup of mush she was trying to feed him and just fricken chugged it. Burping loudly afterward and looked at his mother dearest like he didn't just spend the last ten minutes fighting against eating what he just finished downing. "Really? What do you just not like the spoon or something?"

"Ooon!" She roared while pointing at the spoon he simply refused to eat with.

"That's right, Ezel, that is a spoon. You're a pretty smart kid. You know that?" She said as she picked him up, moving him over her should to burp him before washing and putting him down for a nape. Then, after he was fast asleep in his playpen, Candie moved to the attic stairway. "I'm not being paranoid. I'm being proactive." She said to herself as she moved halfway up the stairs. She knew what she was doing to tinies at seven, and as much as she wanted to have faith in her little Clarity, but she had to be sure.

"But don't you guys, like, get jealous of how much more attention Penny get's?" Candie had to hold in the urge to tell her daughter not to talk with her mouth full, the struggle of a parent spying on their child.

"Honestly, darling, I've had the spotlight longer than anyone else here. And I can't say any of us have enjoyed it quite as much as Penny has." Elizabeth said in her usual air of superiority. Candie had no idea what her sister saw in the little deva. Maybe it was because she was her first pet, but if she were hers, Candie would have seen to humbling the has-been.

"Ya, don't tell you're aunt, but Penny is kind of in love with her." Candie didn't really remember the names of all the pets, Petra had so fucking many, but the name of the one who just spoke might have been Bruse.

"Why shouldn't I? Adults are always telling me that honesty is the best policy. Kinda hypocritical not to live by that when you're older." Candie did a little fist pump. Her baby was developing a robust moral code, and she would have to celebrate her excellent parenting later.

"You'll find things get a little more complicated when you grow up, dear." She recognized Vivian's voice well enough, Petra was showing her and the tinies twin babies off non-stop for a solid week after Candie helped deliver the runts. "Parents are stricter on kids because they want you to do good things without thinking about it. Make being a good person instinct."

"Still seem kinda dumb if you ask me."

"Even so, not your secret to tell."

"No worries, I know how to keep secrets. Hell, the number of things I don't tell my mom about alone, whew."

"That's a swear, young lady!" Mathew said in his usual sarcastic tone.

"Oh, shut up. Don't think I won't dip your dumb head in ketchup."

"Now you two play nice, or it's time out for both of you." Vivien giggled about a bit, joined by the laughter of a few of the others.

"You might be a mom now, Viv, but you're not my mom. So don't think you can boss me around. I could dunk you just as easily."

"Ya, but then we tell you're aunt, and then you'll be the one getting it."

"Ya, ya, hide under my aunt's skirt all you want, Mathew. One day you'll get the flicking you deserve." Candie was satisfied with what she had heard, and then moved back down to the living room. Looking down at the sleeping form of her young son.

"Now I just have to do right by you, kid.