Harry’s world shook as the loud stomping got closer. A huge shadow plunged his world into darkness and he lifted his eyes to be met by the most gigantic thing he’d ever seen. She looked 300-foot-tall to him and wore a smirk on her billboard sized face. He fell to his knees. That she could even see him was a blessing, but the cold hard reality was that she could end his pathetic existence with ease.

He began to run, eliciting a maniacal laugh from the goddess above.

“You’re never going to get away from me sweetheart, I own you now.”

He knew it was true, but lifted his pace anyway. In no time at all, the familiar shadow shrouded him again and her bare foot stamped down mercilessly, blocking his path. He fell back heavily and looked up to see the giant foot descending on him, before everything went black and it was all over.

In a cold sweat, Harry awoke suddenly and turned to face Sophia. His mouth was dry and he was panting. The nightmares had become increasingly frequent in the last week or so, and were even more terrifying now they had begun to mimic his reality.

Measuring barely 6 inches tall now, adjustments had had to be made to ensure his continued survival in the presence of his titanic family. He now slept in Poppy’s tupperware lunchbox, equipped with cotton wool buds to act as makeshift bedding. He was placed on the side table so his colossal wife would not crush him in her sleep.

Not that his survival was mutually beneficial. His daughters in particular had made his life a misery ever since they had begun to realise the power they held over their diminutive father. They now saw him less as a human being and more as a pet who would do anything they asked or face the consequences. The worst of it – foot massages, nail painting and general servitude – had been done behind Sophia’s back, with a threat of further punishment should he dare tell her. He was between a rock and a hard place and he knew it.

He sighed, and tried to fall back to sleep.

Harry tucked into his breakfast; a collection of the family’s leftovers that had been spooned onto a plate on the floor. The shame of this daily ritual has long since subsided as he realised that building up strength was of paramount importance. Like a dog, he greedily ate up as if it was his last meal. He felt lost in the world – the vitriol he had been shown by his wife and kids would surely be amplified if he were to break free and be found by a non-family member. He simply didn’t know what to do.

After he had eaten all he could, Harry began to hear hushed voices in the living room next door. Curious, he tiptoed around the corner and saw his daughters sitting on the sofa deep in discussion. Undetected due to his size, he gingerly crept closer to hear what was being said.

The speed of his decline had of course come as a shock, but Harry was painfully aware of the lack of fight he had shown over the last week. Used to commanding respect in his day to day life, he had allowed two teenagers that he thought loved him, establish a stranglehold over his life. Perhaps if he’d shown more defiance and a little less fear, things would be different? Maybe deep down there was a reason he’d given in so easily. Was he submissive? Was there part of him that enjoyed this?

Having completely zoned out and heard barely heard a word, he was shaken back to reality by the sight of his daughters, now standing menacingly above him with hands on hips.

“Just the guy we wanted to see. We’ve been thinking daddy,” Clara said, with a grin plastered on her face.

“We don’t think you’ve been treating us with the proper respect. The thing is, you’re just a tiny bug now – we are so much bigger than you that you rely on us to live. And since we decide if you live or die . . .”

“You should start worshipping us as Gods,” Poppy said, gleefully finishing Clara’s sentence.

He couldn’t believe it. It was one thing respecting their size and doing as asked, but this would mean to abandon his humanity entirely. The giants who stood above him were more powerful than any God he could possibly imagine, but they were his own flesh and blood, his daughters. It was a preposterous idea.

“Clara, does he look like he’s thinking about disobeying us?”

“Yes it does Popps. Guess we’ll have to do something about that,” said Clara, raising her enormous foot above his head. She lowered it and her ginormous toe began to press down on his head. Harry felt the pressure build and build. It was getting too much to bear.

“You feel like a grape down there, I wonder when you’re going to pop” she threatened.

“Wait!” Harry managed. He was now on his knees.

“Aww, is he praying?” Poppy laughed.

“It looks like it. Daddy, have you decided what your religion is now?”

Silence filled the room as they eagerly awaited his answer.

After what seemed like an age, Harry gave it. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” Poppy demanded.

“Yes . . . God.”