Dale and Harriet
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It’s strange to think that five years have passed since The Small Event. Before that fateful day five years ago, I lived what most would consider the ideal life. I had wealth beyond my wildest imagination, a loving trophy husband, and a mansion so large that it took 20 men to clean it each day. Then The Small Event happened and I, along with 25% of the population, shrank down to the size of bugs.
My husband began to treat me as less than human. He would neglect me, squander my fortune and abuse me. He threatened my well being if I told anybody about my mistreatment. It was difficult, but after four years, I finally exposed my husband’s cruel actions. I moved to a small apartment and used what fortune I had remaining to hire a caretaker to watch over me for the rest of my life.
That was the day I met Dale.
At the time, I couldn’t believe how fortunate I had been. Dale had been training in tiny care almost since The Small Event happened. He had seemed kind and caring, and had a starting fee far below what I was offering. It seemed almost too good to be true. It was only after the paperwork had been signed that I learned who Dale truly was. He was, bluntly speaking, callous and cruel. He saw me not as a human, but as a miserable bug to live out his cruel fantasies on. I was thankful I never told him anything about my past, because he would almost certainly subject me to all my past trauma and even more!
I felt a wave of dread wash over me as Dale entered the house this morning. Knowing that Dale would come and find me if I wasn’t waiting for him, and not wanting to make him angry by making him look for me, I briskly approached him as he shut the door behind him. I yelled a greeting to him to make sure he noticed my presence.
“Good morning, master!”
It was humiliating to have to call Dale master. It brought back terrible memories of my time being emotionally abused by my husband. I had often considered reporting Dale’s misdeeds like I did with my husband, but given what she was willing to do to keep her secrets hidden, I can only imagine the agony Dale would subject me to if he ever thought I might report him.
Dale said nothing, instead giving me an intense glare that scared me to the very core of my being. I was so startled I took a step away from him. He looked away and walked past me to the living room.
Dale slipped off his shoes and put his feet up on the footrest. I had gotten so used to this routine that he didn’t even need to give me instructions. I climbed up to his massive soles and began to lick the bottom of his sock. I pressed my tongue into the sweaty fabric as hard as I could, doing my best to make sure he could feel my tongue on his sole. I didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if Dale thought I was slacking.
Tears dripped from my eyes. Dale looked down at me. I had hoped he would show me pity, but instead the only emotion on his face was disgust. He made me continue licking for only a short while longer until he got bored of watching me. Returning his feet to the ground, he went over to the kitchen and started to prepare himself breakfast.
I waited patiently for him to finish preparing his french toast. It looked absolutely wonderful. My mouth started watering as I smelled its sweet aroma in the air. Dale brought the delicious plate of cinnamon goddess to the dining room table, and as I watched him measure off a miniscule piece of it with a ruler and hand it to me. I should have felt more insulted, but I was honestly just glad I was being fed at all.
“Thank you for feeding me master. Am I really allowed to have this?”
Dale put on an almost comically fake smile. I could almost feel the degrading mockery emanating from that artificial smile slap me across the face.
“Of course, madam! After all, it’s my job as your caretaker to make sure you don’t starve!”
The dripping sarcasm in the word “madam” eroded my very soul. How far had I fallen from grace that I couldn’t even be treated with respect without it being a sick joke?
I watched as he voraciously devoured his share. Watching his powerful jaws rip and tear the sweetened bread apart made me think back to the times my husband would scarf down tiny after tiny in front of me. But my husband always swallowed tinies whole. I didn’t imagine Dale would extend his victims the same luxury. I imagined how torturous it would feel to be ground up in Dale’s maw. As if he could sense my fear, Dale stared down at me.
Our eyes locked for a moment, and then Dale left the living room to continue eating in my living room. He always made an effort to show me that he didn’t need my permission or my supervision as he went from place to place within the house. He knew that my apartment was only mine in theory, but in practice it was his. Just like everything I had was his in practice to use as he saw fit. After all, what was I going to do to stop him?
I realize that he can use his physical might to overpower my pathetically small form, and I realize that he could simply crush the life out of me if I ever disobeyed him. I just wish he would look in his heart and try to see things from my point of view.
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It’s strange to think that five years have passed since The Small Event. Before that fateful day five years ago, I was just a high school student going into college. I had always wanted to help people, but didn’t have any clear goals or direction. Then The Small Event happened and 25% of the population shrank down until they were only around two to three inches tall.
Seeing an opportunity to make something of my life, I dedicated my college education to training myself to help the victims of The Small Event to readjust to their new situation and reintegrate into society. It was difficult, but after four years, I finally graduated with a bachelors in Tiny Care. I had considered going into further studies, but the need for caretakers was so great, I felt it was my duty to start my career as soon as possible.
That was the day I met Harriet.
At the time, I couldn’t believe how fortunate I had been. Harriet had been a wealthy businesswoman and well respected in the community. She had seemed shy and reserved, and was offering to pay me far above my initial as a starter fee. It seemed almost too good to be true. It was only after the paperwork had been signed that I learned who Harriet truly was. She was, bluntly speaking, perverse and perverted. She saw me not as a human, but as a living sex object to live out her deviant fantasies on. I was thankful she never seemed to want to discuss her past, because I can only imagine what she was doing to the poor undertrained caretakers that came around near when The Small Event first took place if this is how she treats trained professionals!
I felt a wave of dread wash over me as I entered Harriet’s residence. No sooner had the door shut behind me than Harriet started barreling over to me. At the top of her voice, she shouted out to me.
“Good morning, master!”
I always hated it when Harriet insisted on calling me master. I had heard when tinies first started appearing that some had an almost euphoric obsession with being treated as subhuman. However, I had certainly never thought I would end up working for one, much less one as obsessed as Harriet. I had let her know on multiple occasions that it wasn’t okay, but she keeps calling me that anyway.
I was about to correct her, but at this point I couldn’t even muster up the energy to. Instead, I gave her a disapproving glare. She seemed to catch onto her mistake, because she backed away and let me enter the living room.
As an important part of the tiny safety protocol, I always remove my shoes when around Harriet, so she doesn’t end up injured in case she’s accidentally stepped on. Harriet always takes this as an opportunity to start having her way with my feet. I couldn’t even have my socks anywhere near her without Harriet trying to suck the sweat off them. Her tongue massages didn’t feel bad necessarily, but I always wished that Harriet would at least ask before she started sucking on my feet. I wished I didn’t have to remove my shoes at all some days, but I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed a tiny to get injured by my actions. Even one with as little respect for me as Harriet.
I looked down to check on Harriet and immediately wished I hadn’t. She was tracing her tongue along every inch of the fabric she could reach. My sweat was even dripping down her face. It took everything I had to hide my disgust, and even then I probably didn’t succeed. I tried to let her finish, but I had finally had enough. I went to the kitchen both to prepare breakfast and get away from Harriet.
I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I make an absolutely divine french toast. Harriet enters the kitchen while my back is turned. When I turn around to bring the french toast to the table, I notice that she’d been staring at my ass the whole time. She was even drooling!
Following proper protocol, I got a ruler and carefully cut a piece of toast off for Harriet. Just enough to be filling, but not enough to cause intestinal problems, which is common in smaller variants of tinies like Harriet.
“Thank you for feeding me, master. Am I really allowed to have this?”
It seemed Harriet was adamant to call me master today. At this point I was aggravated, but I remembered that with Harriet’s wealth and connections, if I didn’t follow her wishes to the letter, she could use her influence to ruin my career and prevent me from ever helping tinies again. I forced myself to smile.
“Of course, madam! After all, it’s my job as your caretaker to make sure you don’t starve!”
I decided to take a small risk. She knew I didn’t like to be called “master”, but I knew she didn’t like to be called “madam”. Harriet got quiet after that, so I could only hope that would be the end of the master nonsense for the day.
I was starved, and since I wasn’t allowed off the premises for breaks, I simply had what was left of the french toast. As I scarfed it down, I noticed Harriet staring at my mouth intently. I wondered what was up when I got a sinking suspicion that this may be another one of her weird fetishes. I was already getting harassed by Harriet every other time of the day, I didn’t need to be sexualized while I was eating.
Our eyes locked for a moment. I knew that I shouldn’t really leave a tiny in a room by herself, but I was going to be sick if I had to deal with her staring at me lustfully while I was trying to have a meal in peace. I moved what food I have to the living room and ate there while contemplating what a waste my life has become
I realize that she can use her riches and influences to ruin my life, and I realize that all she cares about is satisfying her desires. I just wish she would look in her heart and try to see things from my point of view.
So this is my latest story. Not going to lie, I’m not really sure what to think about this one. I was experimenting with a non-con story where the giant is the non-consenting party, and ended up with a story where both parties are ironically unhappy. Really curious what everybody makes of this one.
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Two very contrasting pieces with a common theme, and I think both are quite sad. An interesting read nonetheless and about the right length I’d say (for me anyway).
In shrinking fantasy fiction, I think what dictates whether a story will work for the reader is the chosen size scale, which was too small for me in this case. That’s no criticism of the writing or the theme of course, it’s just a personal thing (and why many of Minimizer’s stories didn’t grab me for the same reason). I’m aware that many people DO like small size scales, so I’m sure you’ll be just fine with this one.
Bottom line is, did you enjoy writing it? You should always write to please yourself, regardless of anything else.
