“O my god slave could you be any slower with those drinks. Hurry up already!” Even though I am dead on my feet I force myself in to a half run being sure not to spill a drop of this cubby Mexican girls drinks. Being only one foot in height I cannot lift them up to where her and her mother are siting but instead lift them over my head. She tuts as she leans down to take them of me as if being so small was my fault. Well I guess in her eyes it is. You see in this world if you break the law you shrink. The worst the crime the smaller you get. In a way you still do jail time but you spend it outside as a slave.  You pay back the world by serving the people in it. Every time you disobey a command you can be punished as your owners likes. Run away and get found and you die a very slow painful death plus you give up on any faint hope of retuning to normal when your time as a slave is over. In a way it works I mean sure people tried to run away once they were small at first but that’s the thing anyone can spot a slave because of their size and once a few slaves had been burned alive or buried alive we got the message. Say loyal do as you’re told and do your time maybe one day if your good you can be full size again.  Piss of anyone bigger than you even once and any chance at freedom might be snatched away.  That’s why when the fat Mexican woman took the drinks that I had broken my back to bring her in the heat without a word of thanks and simply turned her head back to what her mother was saying I did not say anything. The worst thing about it was the fact that she seemed like a nice girl. She was dressed in a light summer dress and black flip-flops and was chatting away to her mum about charity work and friends. In her mind I was the bad guy! I had committed a crime and this was how I was to be punished. Why would she be nice? If she was how was it a punishment? That was the way the world was after shrinking less taxes but you do your bit in other ways, treat anyone who is shrunk like crap!   As I watch her feet (which must be a size elven making them as most as long as I am tall) twist and move under the table I can’t help but think. Could this be the one ? Should I ask her? She might be nice, might show me that tiny bit of mercy I need. Just as I allow myself to think that her voice booms down to me. “I got gum on my shoe get it off” She dose not look down or address me by name( even slave) but who else would she be talking to? Who else would get down and try and get the gum of her huge brown foot. I kneel down and move under the chair to her foot. She has lifted it up and the sole of her dirty flip-flop facing me. The gum is plan to see it has been smashed and stuck under the ball of her heavy foot. Gritting my teeth I reach for it and grab it with both hands pulling it as hard as I can.  After about thirty seconds it comes lose but it takes a farther two minutes to get the first bit free from the sole. After ten or fifteen minutes I have the grimy street gum all most of the sole of her shoe when the squeak of the chair legs gives me warning. I dive backwards ripping my hands out of the gum. She lowers her foot stands up a bit and leans over the table to look at something on her mum’s phone. She is only standing for a second before she sits back down and turns her foot back to me. The gum I tried so hard to get off is now crushed in to the trades of her shoe more than ever. I sigh with a simple move of her foot one she most likely did not even think about she had wiped out all most twenty minutes work, also if my hands had been stuck in the gum or if I had been slower to move both my hands and maybe my arms would have been broken under her foot. So much for getting help from this one. After half an hour I get the gum unstuck and take it over to a bin. After a while I get the gum of my arms and in to the bin. Could be worse in the past I have fallen in to bins and it takes a long time to get anyone to help you out. Who knew it could be so long and hard to take two drinks to a table?  Well any slave that ever tired it that’s who! So as I was saying you can see why this might be a good way to put people of committing crimes right…Well it was! Only very stupid people broke the law anymore. So was I stupid? Was I of my head on drugs? Well no…I know all most everyone who broke the law from the start of time to now has said this but in this case it is true… I did not do it! It was not even like I was set up or anything as far as I know it was just a misfiled form. I went to the town hall to try and fix a leak in the bathroom and someone mistake me for someone else and well long story short I got done on a kidnap and armed robbery charge and ended up like this. Those first few weeks where hard very hard. I might be able to talk about them one day but not now for now I would rather stay with what I am going through day to day. Right now I work for a family but the lend me out one a week to a café my wages go to them. My only hope is that I can get someone to understand I am not meant to be here and go and look at my paper work. If they did they would see I was not guilty and I would be free! But that is just a faint hope and now my shift is over and its back home..back to life as a slave for people that make the girl I was serving look like a saint!           

You would think I would be happy to clock of after a fourteen hour shift right? Well if you do you are wrong. That is part of the life of a slave, there is no let up. Its meant to be a hard life 24/7 what else would the point of a punishment be? As I trudged back along the street to my home ( or rather the home of my owners) I could not help but think how easy it would be to make a run for it. But what would be the point? They would fine me and I would only suffer more. Better to try and wait it out and pray that someone would help me and check my records.

I guess I need to tell you a bit about myself at this point. My name is Joe at the point I was shrunken all most six months ago I was a twenty two year old plumber. I did not have a girlfriend as such but there were a few girls who were what you might call friends with benefits. None of them have tried to find out what happened to me as far as I know. As for family well they were all dead. I was on my own in the world and doing well to right up until some air head young girl working at the town hall got me mixed up with someone else and condemned me to twenty five years of being a slave.  Now no one calls me Joe, I am slave or sometimes Boy. My days of being treated as an equal are long over.  

As I reach the house I can see that two cars are in the drive way tonight. That must mean that my owner’s oldest girl is over for a visit. Her well maintained miny cooper stands next to my owners SUV. Even something as simple as walking in-between these two cars is hard for someone my size. The wheels are about the same size as me and the smell of oil is strong.   When I reach the door the smell only gets worse. There is a rack of shoes by the door and even though I have spent more time up close to these shoes than any man ever should the smell of them at face height still makes me wince. I slip through the “slave door” that my owner had put in and in to the bright hall. I can hear loud female voice echoing around from the living room. Even though the last thing I want to do it is go to my owner and her kids I know that if they find me out here I will get a beating so I head over to the half open door and stick my head around it. My owner Mistress Jen (short for Jenifer) is sitting in a large arm chair near the door, on the sofa her two kids are relaxing. Mistress Jen is a fifty four year old office worker who has keep herself in very good shape. Her grey hair hangs in a short bob around her slightly wrinkled but still very pretty face. She is dressed in her office clothes ( trouser suit, low sling back heels on her barefoot). When I first sore her I tried to beg her and tell her that I was not meant be this size but..well let’s just say that big black belt she wears around her trouser suit got a fair bit of use back then and now I don’t even bother asking her for help. “Well there you are slave boy!” she says “ I was half begins to think you had got lost along the way wasn’t I girls?” the two girls smile at this. They are Mistress Stacy a twenty eight year old who lives away from home. She is tall like her mum at around five foot elven meaning I come up to just below her knee. She is slightly cuverty than her mum but far from fat with a beaming white smile and long blond hair that hangs all most to her shoulders. Huge boobs, an ass that bigger than my whole body and a very fun loving personality make her a hit with the boys. Right now she is warring scruffy leggings and a hoody with her bare feet propped up on a foot rest the size nine soles all most as long as my body is tall facing me. Her half-sister ( from another father) is sat next to her. Nineteen year old misters Amy is a bit shorter all though still huge next to me at five foot five , with long black hair and almond colour  eyes. She was every bit as pretty as her sister but with darker skin and a more sombre look at life. She was sat with her feet tucked up under her in a light summer top and shorts.

 “You know what will become of you if you ever do try and run from us right?” Asks mistress Jen.  “Yes mam I do.” I say bowing my head.

“Good, so how was work then?”

“It was good mistress I enjoyed it very much.”

“Well that’s good! You  just love hard work don’t you?” She says her bright red lips twisting up in a grin.  

“Yes I do hard work is my life I live to serve.”  God I hate how a woman twice my age has so much power over me.

“Aww I know you do boy. Well while you were out working in the café quite a lot of jobs built up around here that need seeing to. You have not done the dusting to day yet, we will be needing some food and breaking open a bottle of wine would be good to, the rubbish needs to go out, the bath needs cleaning, my work shoes need a polish for tomorrow and then Stacy has a lot of washing for you to do so that will all need to be done for her I think that’s all for tonight.”

“Hang on mum I wanted one of those foot rubs its been a whole week since I had one” says Stacy.

“Ahh yes.” Says Jen. “I think I will take one to how about you Amy?”

“Sure”

“Ok then put the washing on then get us food then its foot rubs all round as we eat then you can crack on with the rest of the jobs.”

“Yes Mistress , thank you misters.” I say as I back out of the room.  In one of the first bouts of begging I did I let slip that I had been a trainee reflexologist and there for gave amazing foot rubs. The fact that I should be free seamed to go way over the three women’s heads but the fact that I could give them a nice foot rub stuck with them.  “Get us some drinks as we wait!” Amy yield after me. I open the door to the cupboard and pull out a wine bottle all most the same size as me. After a fight I manage to poor three glasses of sparkling wine. After I run in with them I come back and start to make the food. After 14 hours on my feet working the list of takes I have been given is all most biblical in scale for me. Add to that the fact that everything becomes ten times as hard when you are this size. I am kind of lokey today though as it is such a hot day they only want a light pastor salad. So even though it takes me quite a while to get it all in bowls and carry it threw I don’t have to cook anything. When I get in there the women are watching TV and they take the food of me without a word of thanks. Mistress Jen sticks out her foot still clad in a work shoe and wiggles it around letting me know it’s time to start the foot rub. I kneel down and take her size ten and a half shoe in my hands. Un strapping it and sliding it off. Her barefoot is now resting on its heel on the floor. Now standing to my full height I am still not quite 12 inches a size 11 UK women’s foot is 11 inches… so yes giving a foot rub to a foot all most as big as me was not easy. I drug my hands in to the mature slightly tuff tanned skin on the sole of her foot. The sweat from a hard day at worked acted as a kind of oil and allowed me hands to move more freely across her sole. But still trying to support the foot and reach very part of it all  the time with her wiggling her toes and bobbing her foot up and down was very hard work. The sheer power I had to put in to make her feel my hands on her hard sole killed my arms. Try giving an elephant a foot rub and you might get some clue of how it is for me. The whiff of her feet fresh from the cramped shoes after a long day at work wafts over me to. When she is enjoying a foot rub he wiggles her toes. Each wiggle sends a fresh wave of foot stick out over me. So the better I do the harder the job gets. After ten minutes she removes her foot and sliders her other shoe over to me. I repeat the job and by the time I am done I am dripping in my own sweat and have hers all over my hands and arms. It’s not that bad sometimes when she works from home she keeps me under her desk as a kind of foot relaxer rubbing her feet for five or six hours at a time. “My turn.” Says Stacy sticking out her size eight plump feet for me. Now size eights where smaller and there for easier to massage but Stacy did not take such good care of her feet. In fact even though she was very hot she was a slob. She dressed scruffily and took her washing home for her mum to do. Well her mum to give me to do. Most of the time she was in a beat up pair of flip-flops and there for her feet got a bit grimy. Today was just the same. The plump size eight soles had a fine layer of dried foot sweat and floor dirt on and I could see a few nasty looking black/grey clumps in-between her toes and under her toe nails. I start to push my hands in to her wide fleshy soles. The fell of the cold clammy dirty skin under my hands is sickening. “That’s it work the heels harder.” She says from above me. “Yes mam” I say back keeping my views on the vile sate of her feet to myself for now. The smell from her mother’s is sweaty sure but its fresh tangy, gross sure. But this is dried in clammy sweat that smells like it has been festering on her fat feet for days.  She keeps me at it longer than her mum a good twenty minutes on each foot. By the time I am done my arms are so week I have to lean in close and all most punch her sole meaning my face is right next to the grossness of her toes.   I am half dead stinking of feet my hands sticky with the sweat of these two women but I know I have to move on Amy. Even though she is not as big as her mum or sister her feet are all most the same size as her mums at a ten and a half. Thank god they are clean. She suffers from some hard skin around the heel and ball of her foot as she wears heels far too much so I have to punch her in those places as hard as I can just to get her to feel me. She only has me work her feet over for two minutes each foot for witch I am thankful for. But when I go to slump to the floor she snaps at me “What are you doing you have lots to do tonight! Brake time is over get on with it footboy!”