- Text Size +

********************************

Saturday: 5’10”

I awoke from a pleasant slumber feeling wonderful.  I was so warm and cozy; it felt amazing.  As I slowly opened my eyes, I wasn’t sure what was in front of me.  I backed my head up a bit and realized it was curly, dirty blonde hair.  I groggily puzzled over that a second, then it hit me.  It’s Kyra!  What the hell was I doing!?  I tried to pull myself back, but without much success, as I was completely encircled by both of her arms and one of her legs.  Feeling my struggles, Kyra awoke and turned her head to me.  “Good morning, Daddy.  How did you sleep?” she said with a pleased smile on her face.

“Kyra, can you please …” I said as I tried to untangle myself from her embrace.  She made no effort to let me out.  Flustered, I finally managed to wrest myself free, then I stood up and straightened my shirt.  I started to walk away when she said, “Hold on a sec,” and stood herself up in front of me.  My jaw dropped open.  I was staring straight ahead into her chin.  Kyra giggled at my reaction.  “Well, would you look at that.”

She thought this was funny.  “Kyra, this is serious,” I said, storming upstairs to my bedroom.  ‘Why is this happening to me?’ I wondered as I looked at myself in the mirror.  Did I look a bit younger, or was I just seeing things?  My face appeared to have fewer wrinkles, and what little gray hair I had seemed to be gone.  Weird, I thought.  I got on the scale and found that I weighed only 159 lbs, much less than my original 220!  I realized that, since I was maintaining the same proportions as I shrank, my weight would decrease with my height cubed.

I reflected back on last night, and how incredibly uncomfortable I was.  How did I let myself fall asleep next to her?  What the hell happened?  All I remember was trying to think of a plan to get out, but I had no memory after that.

As I went downstairs for breakfast, Kyra jumped up and grabbed my arm.  “Over here,” she said.  “Hey!” I cried.  Before I could resist, she had pulled me up to the wall with Kyra’s height markings.

“Kyra--”

“Hold still.”  She brought the ruler and measured me, her eyes level with the top of my head.  She made a notch and spun me around and said, “Look, Daddy, 5’10”.  You’re as tall as I was when I was 12,” she stated plainly.

“Kyra, I don’t like measuring myself like this,” I complained.

“Oh, relax, we need to measure you each day to see how you’re progressing.”

“But do you have to announce how old you were at that height?”  It was unsettling.

She snickered at me and walked to the fridge.  I turned and looked despairingly at where she marked my height.  Off to the side I noticed she had marked last night’s score, 11-10, with an asterisk.  “Why’s there an asterisk next to the score.”

Kyra came over and looked.  “Oh, that’s just because you only won by 1.  You might not have been able to get to 2.  Don’t worry, I still count it as a win,” she said, flashing a smile.  “But remember, today’s game is win by 2.”

“Who said we’re playing again today?”

She just smiled again and said, “We’ll see.  Speaking of today, I need some new clothes, I think I’ve outgrown most of them.  And by the looks of it,” she said, peering down at my ridiculously baggy outfit, “you could use some too.  Let’s go after breakfast, OK?”  She playfully tugged the bottom of my oversized shirt and turned away before I could have my say.  God, she’s starting to get on my nerves again, acting like she owns the place.

We moved around the kitchen, getting out cereal, milk, fruit, etc.  Maybe I was imagining things, but she always seemed to move right in my way, bumping into me several times.  I hated standing near her, being constantly reminded of our rapidly increasing height difference.  Finally, I took my bowl and sat at the table while she walked past and turned on the TV.

“I don’t think so, missy.  No TV for you, remember?”

“Oh, sorry Dad,” she said offhandedly, “I figured you were over that after last night.”

“Me … ‘over that’!?  It’s YOU who needs the attitude adjustment.  Now come to the table and sit down.”

She turned off the TV and walked nonchalantly to the table.  I couldn’t stand how lightly she was talking all of this.  She finished first, got up, put her dishes in the sink, and then went upstairs.  I was still finishing up my cereal when she came back down.  Walking over to me, she rested her hand on my shoulder and said, “Hurry up, Dad, I want to have as much shopping time as possible.”  She bent over and took my empty glass and plate, leaving just my bowl of cereal.

“Damn it, Kyra, I’ll finish when I finish.”

“Language, mister!” she scolded.  God lord, she sure knew how to push my buttons.

I ate in angry silence, not wanting to provoke her into a further argument.  She sure was making it difficult, though.  Just as I was finishing my bowl, she came up behind me and whisked it away, cleaning it in the sink.

Managing to hold my tongue, I walked over to the door and put my shoes on.  “Well I’m ready, how about you?” I said rather immaturely, a smug look on my face.

She put the dishes down and walked straight over.  Instead of putting her shoes on, she bent down towards me, squeezed my jaw with her hand just enough to open my mouth slightly, and smelled my breath.  “Your breath stinks.  Go brush your teeth and then we’ll go.”

What the hell is this – she’s ordering ME to brush MY teeth now!?  I couldn’t believe it.  My face was red with anger.  But she just stood looking down at me with a slightly impatient expression.

“Bah!” I exclaimed.  I couldn’t take this right now.  I chose to be the better man (so to speak) and walked upstairs, realizing that merely arguing with her would get me nowhere.  We were well beyond that now.  As I brushed my teeth, I vowed to myself that I would come up with some punishment that would finally put her in line.  Clearly, grounding her just wasn’t cutting it anymore.

She was waiting as I walked down.  I took the keys from my pocket and walked by her.  She grabbed my forearm with one hand, and used her other to pluck the keys from my hand.  “I’ll drive.”

“No you won’t,” I declared.  But she had already turned and walked into the garage, her long legs putting distance between us before I could react.  I channeled my inner Buddha and kept calm, trailing behind her and getting in the passenger’s side.

The only thing that was said during the car ride was, “It’s a good thing we’re going shopping for you.  You look silly in those big clothes, Daddy.”  I clenched my teeth and looked out the passenger’s side window.

We walked into JcPenney’s.  Seeing so many people walking around was a bit of a shock to me.  I used to tower over practically everybody, seeing the tops of peoples’ heads in a crowd.  Now, while I was still slightly taller than the average man, there were plenty of men – and several women – who were now taller than me.  We got to the men’s section and Kyra said, “Let’s get you measured.”  I actually agreed with her for once.  As we walked up, the attendant eyed me quizzically.  “Who on earth measured you last time?” she said jokingly.

I hesitated, not wanting to share that I’ve been shrinking.  “Well, I, uh –“

“He spilled beer at my boyfriend’s party last night and had to borrow some of his clothes,” Kyra interjected.  I looked up at her surprised, then nodded to show my appreciation of her quick save.  Although she could have done without the part about a boyfriend.  The attendant replied, “Haha, it happens.  Now if you would, hold out your arms please…”  As she took my measurements, I thought it odd that the attendant accepted the story completely, not wondering why we were at the same party – a high schooler and a 41-year-old!  I had to admit that though Kyra was in high school she did look like she could easily be in college – but still, I had to wonder how young the attendant took me for.  I figured I ought to stop worrying about it and take it as a compliment.

I was upset to hear some of the measurements, such as my waist which had shrunk from 36 to 32.  Well, at least it’ll be a lot easier to get long enough clothes.  I used to have trouble finding the right sizes.

As we walked around the pants section, Kyra was continuously pulling out different pairs, saying, “Oo, I like these,” and holding them to my waist to get a feel for how they look on me.

“Kyra, honey, I can shop for myself.”

“Nonsense, Dad, you need a woman’s touch to make sure you look your best.”  After several minutes of her perusing, she handed me three pairs.  “Here, try these on.”

“Um, I think I’ll pick my own out, thank you,” I snapped.

“Dad, it’s not like you have to buy them.  Just try them on.”  She nudged me in the direction of the changing room.  I guess she had a point, plus I hate shopping so I actually didn’t mind someone picking them out for me.  I can always say no if I don’t like them.

In the changing room, I tried the first pair on.  The waist and length were correct, but they were a very tight fitting style.  I always go for a looser style; more comfortable in my opinion.  As I was taking them off to try the next pair, I heard Kyra’s voice outside my door.  “Daddy, did you try one on yet?”

“Yeah, it was too tight.”

“Let me see.”

“Why?  I don’t need to show you every pair.  I didn’t like the first one.”

“But I picked them out special because I thought you’d look good in them.  At least let me see first.”

Fine, couldn’t hurt, I figured.  I put them back on and opened the door.  “Hey, I like them!”

“They’re much too tight, dear.  I like looser pants.”

“Well, you want to look good, don’t you?  Turn around,” she said, motioning me to give a 360 degree view.

I did, and she practically squealed.  “Oh, your butt looks so cute in those!  You need to buy them.”  I didn’t like her commenting on that part of my body, but I let it slide, instead repeating that they were too tight.

“Well, think about it, Dad, when you continue to get smaller then they’ll fit just how you like them.  If they were baggy today then you couldn’t wear them the next few days.”

I never liked reminders that I would probably continue to shrink.  But she did have a point.  “OK,” I conceded.

“Good, now try those other ones on.  I’ll be waiting.”  She closed the door and stood outside.

As I was putting the next ones through my feet, the door opened.  “Kyra!  Not yet!”  She hadn’t locked the door.

“Oh, relax, it’s not like I can see anything.  Here, let me help you.”

“No!  I can do it myself.”

“OK, but you shouldn’t snap at me like that.  I’m only trying to help, Dad.”  I finished putting the second pair on and they fit like the first.  She pushed my shoulder to indicate that I should spin around.  “Very nice, now let’s see the last pair.”  She just stood there.

“Are you going to leave so I can change?” I asked indignantly.

“Oh, well, I don’t see why, but sure Dad.”

“And wait until I call you,” I ordered.

She waited this time, came in and had me turn again.  “Hmm, they’re all so good!  Why don’t you just get all of them.”

It was my turn to use my reason.  “Well, if I do shrink again, then I won’t have use of these soon, so I should only get one or two.”

“Good point.  Hmm … These,” she stated, handing me her two favorites.

“Well, I don’t know, I kinda liked the other one,” I interjected.

“No, I don’t think so; the color’s not quite right on you.”  She grabbed the third pair and put it back on the rack.  Why was she choosing everything for me?  And why was I letting her?  It didn’t bother me too much, though, since I wanted to be done shopping as soon as possible and anyways she probably had more fashion sense than I.

My shirts and shoes were chosen in the same manner, with Kyra basically picking them for me.  They seemed OK to me, although again the shirts were a bit tight, but I let it go.  She did let me pick out whatever boxers and socks I liked, since they’re really for comfort not fashion.  I paid for all the clothes, two sets for most articles, and we walked out towards the food court ready to eat.  We both agreed on Subway, and when we were done eating she stood up and said, “OK, let’s go shopping for me now.”

I was tired of shopping already, and so were my feet.  “I want to rest a minute first.”

 She just stood over me looking down.  She started tapping her foot.  I took my sweet time, mostly to piss her off.  When I did stand up, she simply said, “Come on,” and took off at a fast walk.  I had trouble keeping up, having to trot from time to time.  She took us to Dress Barn first.

I felt useless as she just went on her merry way picking out dresses.  I didn’t like how short and low cut some of the ones she picked out were.  “That one’s too revealing.”  She had given me flak before for being too strict with her attire, but I felt that as a girl still in high school she had no business wearing such clothes.

“Well, we’ll see.  I’ll try it on first.”  After picking a handful of dresses, she headed for the changing room.  I followed her, wanting to make sure she picked suitable attire.

“Come in if you want,” she offered.

Nooo way was I going to accept.  “I don’t think so.  But let me see what you try on.”

Soon the door opened and she had on a tasteful blue dress that actually did leave enough to the imagination, in my opinion.  “That one’s acceptable, and you look good in it,” I complimented.

She frowned, looking at the mirror.  “I dunno, I’m not thrilled with it.”  She said, starting to take it off.

“Kyra, wait ‘til I leave!” I exclaimed.

“Haha, you’re such a prude, Dad.”  She kept pulling the dress down as I bolted out the door.  A few seconds later she said, “OK, come in.”  I opened the door.

She was standing right in the doorway in nothing but her bra and underwear, striking a sexy pose and smiling broadly.  “Jesus!” I yelped, slamming the door.  She almost died laughing.  “OK, Dad,” she said a bit later.

“Is it safe this time?  If you pull that again I’ll be pissed.”

“Of course, just come in already.”

I opened the door with trepidation.  Holy smokes.  Fortunately she was wearing a dress this time, but I wouldn’t necessarily say she was fully clothed, either.  She had on a black spaghetti-strap dress with an extremely low cut.  The dress didn’t cover half her thighs, either.  She looked … stunning.  I stared at her body a second too long, and she noticed.  “Well, that’s all the confirmation I need,” she said, with the most devilish smile I had ever seen.

Turning beet red, I awkwardly averted my eyes, not sure where to look, but finally bringing my eyes up to hers.  She smiled a devilish smile down at me.  “Kyra, honey, absolutely not.  That dress shows way too much.”

“Aw, I love it, though!”  Bending over towards the mirror, she pushed up her bust and eyed her cleavage with satisfaction.  As she glanced over through the mirror and saw me eying her cleavage as well, a wicked grin crept onto her face.  “Definitely a keeper,” she said.

I blushed again.  “There’s no way I’m letting you buy that dress,” I said, stepping into the room and trying to act authoritative.

She chuckled.  “Admit it, Dad, you think this dress looks great on me.”

“I … uh … that’s not the point, honey.  It just … doesn’t leave enough to the imagination.”

She sauntered over, staring at me with a wicked grin on her face.  She closed the door beside me and leaned down until her face was level with mine, planting her hand on the wall behind me.  This, of course, opened up quite a valley of cleavage below.  It must have been my base instincts, but as she bent over I looked down and took a full peek at her breasts almost falling out of her dress.  Realizing my mistake, I quickly and sheepishly looked up into her eyes.  Doubtless, she saw the whole thing.  “Admit that I look fantastic in this dress,” she commanded.

“I … you …”  I gulped.  “Please stop this, honey.”

Her mouth spread into another wicked grin.  Not daring to look down, my hand groped for the door handle next to me.  She moved her hand from behind my head over to hold the door closed.  I tried pulling the handle but the door didn’t budge.  I didn’t want to yank it and show just how anxious I was.

Kyra had complete control of the situation, and I really had no choice.  “You … you look good.”

She took my chin in her other hand and said, “That’s not what I said.  Tell me I look fantastic in this dress.”

I tried to hang my head in shame, but her hand held it up.  “You look fantastic in this dress, Kyra.”

“Well, then, that’s settled,” she said, standing to her full height.  “I’ll buy it.  Or, I guess I should say, you’ll buy it for me.  Agreed?”

“Yes, dear,” I said, cringing.  Once she removed her hand I was free to drop my head in shame.

“Would you like to stay while I try the other dresses?  I love judging how good they are based on your reaction.”

“No thanks,” I said softly, humiliated.

“Very well, then.  Why don’t you have a seat outside the store and I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

“… okay …”  I started opening the door but she held it.

“One more thing, I’ll need your credit card to buy them.”

“But you’re supposed to buy clothes with your own money.  That’s what your allowance is for.”

“Oh yeah?  Well, I seem to recall you revoked my allowance, remember?”

“Oh … well, OK, but you’ll have to pay me back as soon as you can, alright?”

“Sure, whatever Dad.”  I wasn’t convinced, but I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of that dressing room.  I pulled out my wallet and handed her the card.  “Good.  Now run along,” she told me, waving me away with her hand.

Once I was allowed out, I felt a great weight lifted off my shoulders.  I turned and put my foot in the door before it closed and said, with newfound confidence, “Young lady, listen to me!  I’ll let you borrow my card but you will not spend more than $150 today!  And if I find that you bought anything too revealing for my taste, then I will return it to the store myself!”

“What about this dress?  Remember, you said I looked fantastic in it and you wanted me to buy it.”

“Uhh…” I faltered.  Jesus, I did agree to that, didn’t I.  “Fine, I’ll let you have that one as a special treat, but you are only to wear it on special occasions.  Understand?”

Laughing, she said, “Sure, Dad.”

“I’m not closing this door until you promise.”

Pausing for a second, she gave a wry smile and started unzipping her dress.

“Damn it, Kyra!” I slammed the door, conceding the battle for now.  I’ll just stop her from going out when she puts it on at home, I told myself.

I found a bench and sat down, releasing a loud sigh.  From outside the dressing room, I couldn’t see why I ever let her bully me around.  What the hell happened?  She’s only a high-school-aged girl, for Christ’s sake, and I’m a grown man.  Not as tall as I used to be, but no doubt still stronger than Kyra.  Why didn’t I just force her back, reprimand her, and walk out the door, like a real man?  I guessed that she just caught me off guard.  The situation was extremely embarrassing, and she used her advantage perfectly.

But then I had an idea, and a smile crept across my face for once, as I think I had found the punishment she deserved.  Not my style, but it should put her right in line.  This is gonna be good, I thought.

It took at least forty minutes for her to come out of the store.  What is it with girls and shopping?  “Finally.  Let’s go home,” I said.

“Haha, Dad, that was just the first store.  Just keep waiting here, and I’ll get you when I’m done.”

“How long is this going to take?  I’m bored.”

“Patience, Dad.  You got something better to do today?” she quipped.  I had nothing planned, but that doesn’t mean this is how I wanted to spend my day.

“I’m going over to GameStop and maybe the arcade.”

“OK, but I want to see you here when I’m done.  I don’t want to have to run around the mall looking for you.”

“Just call me and I’ll come back here.”

“You took my phone away, remember?”

Grrrr.  “Fine, we’ll meet here.  Just don’t take too long.”

“OK, Dad.”  She turned and left

“And remember, only $150, no more!” I called after her.  She didn’t acknowledge me.

I spent an hour in GameStop then got bored.  You can only read game covers for so long.  I checked the bench.  No sign of Kyra.  I crossed over to the arcade and spent a good many quarters, playing at least another hour.  Once I used up all my cash, I returned to the bench.  Still no sign of Kyra.  ‘Lord, how long can it take to spend $150?’ I wondered.  I sat for a while, then said ‘screw this’ and decided to find her to tell her that her shopping is done for today.  I checked quite a few women’s stores.  There was no shortage of them.  Kyra should be easy to spot, at least.  On about the 15th store, I found her in Victoria’s Secret.  What was she doing here?

“What are you doing here?” Kyra asked me.  “Is this where you go in your free time?” she chided.

“Haha, very funny.  I should ask you the same thing.  You have no business buying lingerie.”

“Oh, please, they sell regular bras and panties here too.  Now help me find some 34DD’s.  It’s hard to find them that big in 34,” she told me.

I really didn’t want to hear her cup size.  Well, OK, I was a bit curious, I mean just to see how she’s growing, not sexual or anything.  I mean – well, I guess I had a hard time coming up with why I was curious.  But anyway …

“Find your own bras.  How much longer?  We’ve been here, what, 3 or 4 hours?”

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t have my phone with me to tell the time.  But I’m almost done; after this I just need shoes.”  ‘Great, that’ll be another hour,’ I grumbled to myself.  “Here, hold onto these for me.  I’ll be expecting you at the bench.”

“Fine, just hurry up.”  I grabbed the bags and walked out.  Going back to the bench, I looked in the bags to find the receipts.  It sure looked like more than $150, what with how women’s clothes are priced.  I couldn’t find any receipts, though; she must have put them in her purse.  Then I decided to look at what she bought and see if there was anything … uncouth.  There was the black dress.  I shuddered a bit, trying to force out the mental image of her with it on.  She had bought several more dresses, and some of them looked suspicious.  I grabbed one and pulled it out, but then realized how sketchy it looked for a man by himself to be looking through women’s garments.  Quickly, I placed it back in the bag and decided I would just check when we got home.

Half an hour dragged by.  I was tired of waiting and went back to GameStop, reading the same damn covers again just to pass the time.  Fortunately they had a PS3 with controllers set up for customers to try.  I played Madden for a bit and realized that it’s the best freakin game out there and the online play is awesome [well, that’s the writer’s opinion anyway].  I was so engrossed that I lost track of time a bit.  Looking at my watch, I realized I was in GameStop for 45 minutes.  As I strolled over to the bench, I saw that Kyra was sitting there, waiting.  When she saw me, she was pissed.

I said, “OK, ready now?” and walked up to her.  She stood up.  Way, way up.  What the hell?  Had I shrunk again?  My eyes were even with her shoulders!

I didn’t have time to figure out what happened.  I was completely thrown off balance, though.  “Where the hell were you?” she fumed.  “I told you to wait here.  I’ve been waiting for half an hour.”

She stood closer and glared at me down her nose, accentuating the now substantial height difference.  I took a step back.  “Geez, I was just over in GameStop, it’s not a big deal.  I mean, you made me wait hours for you.  Um,” I continued, with more important things on my mind, “did I shrink again?”

“Ha, I wish; then maybe you’d listen to what I tell you.”

“Kyra!  That’s a horrible thing to wish.”  I was about to scold her for her attitude, but then I found the cause: my daughter was wearing 4-inch heels.  “What the hell!  You know I don’t want you wearing heels; it attracts too much attention, like that skimpy dress.”

“Yeah, well, like that skimpy dress, these heels certainly grabbed your attention.  You’re not intimidated, are you?” she retorted, stepping closer again.

“You will take those off immediately,” I ordered, staring up into her eyes.  It was a bit uncomfortable, craning my neck like that, but I didn’t back down.

“I don’t think so.  Bring my clothes.  We’re leaving.”  With that, she turned and briskly walked in the direction of the car.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I called after her.  But then it dawned on me that she still had the keys.  And somehow I felt that she would have no problem leaving me here.  Grabbing her bags, I scampered after her.

I caught up to her after she had got in and started the car.  She popped the trunk.  I was about to lay into her, and it would be easier without these damned bags in my hands.  I put them in the trunk and closed it, then marched to the driver’s side.  “I’m driving,” I announced.  But the door was locked.  “Damn it, Kyra!  Open up this instant!” I yelled, pounding on the window.  She just sat there for a second, glaring at me.  Then she buckled up and put the car in reverse.  I cursed and screamed as the car backed up.  As she put it into forward drive, she cracked the window open, and told me with a scowl, “You had better be home in time to make me dinner.”  She then peeled out and left me standing there, flabbergasted.

I went into a rage.  I had been mad at her plenty of times, but this one easily took the cake.  I ranted for a solid 3 minutes, no doubt looking like a raving lunatic to passersby.  Having gotten the most violent parts out of my system, and growing increasingly worried that someone might call the cops to take care of the crazy person, I calmed down and sat for a bit in the empty parking spot left by my daughter.  ‘Heck, she shouldn’t even be driving on her own with a learner’s permit,’ I thought.  ‘But that’s the least of her worries.  She’ll get hers.’  I let out a slightly sinister chuckle, if that were possible.  After 10 minutes, I was convinced that she wasn’t going to return.  I wasn’t too surprised, really.  I couldn’t believe how out of control she’d gotten.  I looked in my wallet for enough for a cab or at least a bus fare.  Damn it, I spent all my cash at the arcade.  And, to my dismay, I discovered that Kyra still had my credit card as well.  Plus the closest Bank of America was almost as far from here as my house.  I couldn’t believe it, but I had no choice but to walk.

You must login (register) to review.