Now, no matter what size you are, a messy room is no good. The man looked at the mess his kid left around her room. If it looked annoying at his real height, it looked even more so at his new height. And most importantly, all those piles of toys and clothes looked much bigger and much less manageable. No wonder she always complained when she was told to pick up after herself. John resolved that he’d clean up later. For now, he took a few short steps, enjoying the feeling of his new clothes against his skin. He was so relaxed, he could just stop worrying and enjoy the rest of his evening. And so he did, he walked out of the room and down the hallway, to the living room. It was the first time he saw the living room from his new, shorter perspective. It felt so exciting, to be barely above the eye level of the couch, having to look up at shelves. The TV screen, currently off, loomed above, but also looked like a more immersive experience. Why buy an expensive big TV when you can just shrink yourself a bit?

John looked around for the remote. He walked to the coffee table – not there. He looked on the couch – not there. He went over to the TV stand and took a look – not there. He crouched to take a look inside the storage cubes that were neatly stacked under the TV stand’s shelf. Hah! Not there still, but he smiled when he realized how much easier it was to reach low places now that he was shorter himself. Still, this was getting annoying. Where WAS the remote? He turned around and looked at the fireplace. It was a nice, mostly decorative fireplace that they only bothered to light up on special occasions. Tonight was definitely not one of them. Wood was heavy enough to carry as a man, never mind now. He walked closer, and then looked up at the shelf above. There it was, barely sticking on the side, the edge of the TV remote. Easy enough to reach… if you were an adult.

John realized, just too late, that he had not made all the necessary preparations. He should have spent time preparing to child-unproof the house, make sure that everything is in reach. He stood on his tip-toes, feeling his feet slip slightly inside his one-size-too-large shoes. He reached uuup and uuup with his arm, and he was still too short. John jumped. Nowhere close. But he was amazed at how light he felt while going up and down, and how easily he landed on the floor. Smaller bodies can jump more easily. It’s why cats can perform those leaps, and land gracefully, while elephants would crush their legs if they tried even a hop. Same for humans. Adults, with a size that was an affront to nature, being so tall and bumbly, could not jump as easily and carelessly like kids could. John jumped ahead, threw his arm up as far as he could, and his fingers barely grazed the bottom of the remote, but it was out of reach. John smiled.

He thought back of the one time he had tried getting help for his “issue”. He had gone to see a shrink (a quite ironic name, since shrinks don’t actually shrink you). He had opened his heart and poured his guts out and talked about his fantasies, wants, no, needs. The doctor had advised him to think of all the potential downsides, the things that people don’t think about when they daydream of their “perfect” scenario. John remembered all the warnings about not being able to reach places, having trouble driving, being pushed around in crowds, everything that people with dwarfism faced every day. But John did not feel annoyed at the remove being too high up. A worthy price. And after all, humans don’t have to rely on brute strength or raw size. That’s why humans invented tools, he told himself, to push past their own body’s limitations. So, John would show the world that he was still a human. Well, not the world, but his own soulless house.

He looked around and found exactly what he needed. A stack of those useless picture books on the coffee table. He walked over, grabbed two, and lifted. Big and heavy, the books strained his muscles. Okay, maybe just one. He picked it up, and brought it down to the fireplace, and then he brought a second, and a third. Without care, he stepped on top of the little stack. His shoes left a few tracks of dust on the glossy covers, but he didn’t care. He jumped once again, and this time, he reached the remote. It dislodged from its perch, and fell down. He caught it, juggling it in his hands. It felt bigger than before. No more fatfingering those buttons. The man trotted over to the couch, and tossed the remote up on the pillow. He had to get up, but the couch made it up to his chest. Not an issue, he saw this daily. He placed his palms down on the pillow, and pushed down, while kicking up with his feet. Up went little John, and tumbled on his own couch. It was bigger, much more comfortable than he remembered. He turned around, and put his back against the back pillow, and then pushed his legs to the front. His knees did not even reach the edge, so he could not fold his feet down and let them dangle freely. Not very comfortable. So he changed his position, turning to his side, and pulled his feet up next to him, laying down on his side, facing the TV. Wearing shoes on the couch was not allowed in this house, but he didn’t care. He was not a child, he made the rules. John pressed the power button, relishing even the “clicky” feel under the button just a bit more, and put on a sports channel. He kept watching, looking at the players. John was decidedly not interested in men, but he was still looking at them on the screen now. Even at his normal height, athletes were taller, beefier than he was. At his new height, they’d be absolutely towering over him. Those people could probably shake him like a ragdoll. Not that they would, of course, nobody does that in a civilized world. He kept watching, until his eyes drooped. He looked at the clock on-screen. It was still barely 8pm. If he napped now, he would probably not easily fall asleep later on on his new bed. John pushed himself up and looked to the side of the couch. On top of that arm was a little blanket, the blanket he used to cover his daughter when she fell asleep while watching cartoons in the afternoon. It was calling to him, inviting him. No! John resisted. He pushed himself off the couch, landing on the floor with a soft thud. No, this development required ...celebration.

And so he left the sports on, listening to the action, and walked back to the kitchen. He paused against the marks on the frame, double checking that he had not shrunk anymore. He had not. But he also stayed there, relishing the fact that he was just a couple of inches shorter than his own daughter. He put his hands on the smaller marks that were even shorter than himself, going back two years, three years, four years. “Maybe”, he told himself. He did not have an endgame yet, and did not need to worry about one just yet. John walked into the kitchen, listening to his small plastic steps leaving gentle taps against the floor, not ugly boom-dooms that his old self did. Thankfully, the liquor cabinet had bottom shelves. He reached up to the handle, tugged it, and the wood and glass door opened for him. John reached in and picked up his favorite whiskey. Half-empty, but how big it looked! If you shrink, you can save money on liquor! Of course, he hadn’t accounted for glasses, which were on a higher cupboard. Nothing to worry about. He went by the table, and grabbed a chair. The top of the chair’s back reached over his head. Neat. But all he needed was just a bit of strength, he tugged and pulled the chair to where it needed to go. One quick climb up, and he still had to stand on his toes, but nothing could stop him. One whiskey glass, secure in his little grasp. He carefully hopped down and picked up the bottle again, taking it back to the living room. Now, he left his items on the floor, and pushed the coffee table against the couch, so that he could reach when he climbed up. Easy, so resourceful, he’d give himself a pat in the back. John placed the bottle and the glass up on the coffee table, and then hopped onto the couch again.

He carefully poured himself a drink. No need for ice, just take it straight. He served his usual quantity, but then he stopped when he picked the glass up, using both little hands. His usual would give him a nice buzz, but to his current size? This would probably fuck him up. Now, puking all over his pretty new clothes, and forgetting his first night of his new size did not seem like a good idea. So he carefully raised the glass to his lips, took a few sips, and set it back down. He hadn’t drank even half of his usual amount. He would just wait and see how much those few sips would hit his body, then decide if he needed more. Yes.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed. Oh shit. He had completely forgotten about the phone all this time! He looked around, and noticed it emitting light from the small stand where the adults usually left their phones, keys, and mail. Did he REALLY have to go get it? He called out the virtual assistant and asked what notification did he miss. “You have five unread messages”, the robotic voice responded. Well, shit. Playtime is over, he told himself and once again hopped off the couch. All this up and down was much less taxing than he thought. It was actually kind of fun! He went to the stand, picked up the phone, and got back onto the couch. He grabbed the phone, feeling it more like a small tablet device now in his hands, and tapped the screen to wake it. Five messages, all from his wife. They had arrived at the airport. They ate a snack. They were waiting to board. “Yeah, nice, took a nap here, sorry for missing your messages”, he typed back, making a few typos on the way, as his fingers had to learn the new, bigger virtual keyboard on his phone. He tapped send. A few moments passed, and a photo arrived. “We took a selfie”, his wife said, showing her and their child sitting on her mom’s lap, smiling and waving at daddy. Shit. John’s arms trembled. He immediately imagined himself, no longer able to hold his daughter like that, but having to share his wife’s lap. He was just as small as the little girl on screen. He tapped the image, trying to feel through the cold glass screen. Hell, even to sit in his own daughter’s lap, he thought, his mind going back to the even smaller height lines he was checking out later. Maybe one day, they would understand why he did what he did.

John sighed, and raised his sleeve, wiping a few tears on it. Of course he could not send a selfie back. Or could he? He opened the camera app, and looked at himself. It was surreal seeing him in a little girl’s shirt, cozy and slightly too small for it. He tried to angle the camera so that only his head would be visible, to smile back at his sweetheart. But even then, the background was the back of the couch. Hmm. He stood up on the couch, and pointed the phone again, so that his head would have the rest of the room as the background. It still felt odd to him. No selfies. Wait, yes selfies. He pointed the phone down at his body and his clothing, and rapidly clicked. Those were not to send to anyone, those were to keep. To remember the good times. Another message came in, interrupting the perverse photo session. He pulled the tab down and saw a picture. His daughter again, posing in front of an airport store, holding an oversized blanket. “She insisted I show you her new blanket. Don’t do anything creepy with it”. Of course, his wife did not like her daughter’s pictures being “used” like that, to fuel her husband’s fantasies. Joke’s on her, of course, as John would lie down under his daughter’s blanket later on tonight. “Enjoy the flight, I’ll pour a drink and watch ball”, he added a response, and clicked the side button to turn the screen off.

He settled back down, feeling the nice buzz from his drink. He definitely did not need to drink more tonight. He pushed the glass aside, laid his little feet on the table, and started absentmindedly tapping the toes of his shoes together while watching the game. Meanwhile, his wife had just settled herself and her daughter on the plane seats, ready to fly south to her parents. She looked at her phone, swiping at the home screen. On the third page of apps was the nannycam app that they used from time to time. She thought about it for a second. She had caught him checking out the little girl’s closet before. And she had put the fear of god on him if he ever tried to pull something like that again. For a moment, her finger hovered over the app. But she then relaxed. No, John wouldn’t do it. Or, if he did, she wouldn’t want to know. Or would she? She was interrupted by her daughter. “Mommy, let me play a game!” she asked, and put her little hand over the screen, wanting to grab the device. “Sure, sweetheart, go ahead”, the woman said, and relaxed on her uncomfortable economy seat. By the time they had taken off, she had pushed those suspicions back in the deep reaches of her mind, and did not think about it the rest of the flight.