This… actually isn’t horrible. We’re at church, and Wendy is wearing a long blue dress… with pantyhose on, and her nice new brown flats that Dad bought her a few months ago. These shoes haven’t been worn more than a few times before today, and still have a rubbery smell emanating from them.

Of course, I’m half-an-inch tall, plastered to the sole of Wendy’s foot. Inside the hose.

It’s still not pleasant, but I’ve grown somewhat comfortable, which is more than I can say most of the time. At least it’s not so bad compared to what I’ve gone through recently. I would be more comfortable if her foot wasn’t so super cold when it’s out of her shoe. But Wendy isn’t content to keep me inside her shoe any longer than Mom can force her to. She’s usually got her leg propped up on her knee, flexing her giant sole and stretching her toes in the hose. I hear the standard rhetoric echoing off the walls in the distance. We don’t always go to church, but on the days that we do it tends to reinforce my mother’s commitment to keeping me underfoot.

I’m not the only shrinker in this room today.

…

"Without a doubt, there are some people out there who think they know better than the truth!" booms the voice in the distance. All stuff I’ve heard since I was a little girl. "But it is WRITTEN… that servants are supposed to obey their masters!" he continues. Of course, in this day and time servant is synonymous with shrinker. Master is synonymous with owner. And I am the lowly servant, and Wendy and Mom are my masters. "It is God’s plan. It is written… that servants should worship their masters’ feet as the feet of God himself! The master’s supremacy is paramount to God’s plan."

I used to believe all that… not so much because I had any vested interest in being a "master" or a "normal" myself, but because I was taught was right to think this way. I was taught it was wrong… stupid… or evil even, to disagree. Even after I had been shrunken and stuffed in Mom’s shoe a hundred times, I still believed it was all God’s will. Part of me still believes it, plastered to Wendy’s sole, with the fiery rhetoric echoing off the walls miles away. Part of me wants to just give up. Something seems almost… sacred about simply accepting my fate and worshipping Wendy and Mom’s massive soles. Maybe this is God’s plan.

With her nylon covered sole wiggling playfully on her knee, Wendy has given me a chance to push myself away from her flesh for a moment and look around the room. And I can see other people, all of which I know. All giants. But I clearly see a girl with short brown hair I’ve sort of known since I was little. She’s a normal, but her little brother recently found out that he was not so fortunate.

I watch her for a few minutes, until I see her slip her foot out of her shoe.

At first I don’t think much of it, but something catches my eye. There is the tiniest bump. I can barely make it out, and my vision is hindered by Wendy’s hose, but there it is, and I wouldn’t have seen it at all if not for the perfect angle of her foot in my vision against the backdrop of her skirt. Her foot is covered in dark nylon much like Wendy’s… but I saw him, if only for a moment. He was there, perfectly still. Instead of sitting beside his sister as he used to, now he’s flattened to the bare sole of her oppressive, muscular, sweaty foot.

And in my mind, I can’t help but assign more value to her than him, as she tips her foot to glance absentmindedly down at her tiny brother turned bug. I can’t help but see her as his superior in every way, now that he is so tiny at her feet. ‘The master’s supremacy is paramount to God’s plan.’ He had said. We all know this to be true. I know this, and he knows this, and his giant big sister knows this. What she is doing to him now is perfectly acceptable. Perfectly normal. Expected.

My vision suddenly shifts dramatically, as Wendy tilts her foot more toward her face, interrupting my thoughts. ‘Hi!’ she mouths, inaudibly. ‘Buggy-buggy-buggy!" she adds, sticking her finger to her sole and pressing me in, losing me in the flesh before releasing the pressure, again and again. She can’t stifle an audible giggle.

"…put your shoe back on," Mom suddenly snaps, leaning into Wendy’s ear with a whisper. I see irritated looks on both of their faces as their eyes lock, and I can’t help but laugh a bit inside. Wendy is on true mother-daughter terms with Mom… and any rebellion on Wendy’s part is comical to me, as Mom just has to put up with it. Mom can’t just shrink Wendy like she can me!

But she can still control her… because now I’m headed back into Wendy’s shoe. At least it’ll be warmer… although I prefer being able to breathe more easily.

…

…

…

"I’ve gotta secret-secret!" Wendy booms, as she peels off her hose, leaving me stuck, plastered to the smelly sole of a suddenly bare foot. I still smell the rubbery scent of her new flats on it. I’m not feeling the same bitterness that I normally do toward Mom or Anna, even with that jewel dangling around her neck. Wendy is sweet. Nice even.

"I’m working on a surprise for you!" she grins. "But you don’t gidda’ see it until I finish it," she adds, as she plops down on her bed and wiggles her massive toes around, giggling, with me still stuck to her sole. It reminds me a lot of what Mom likes to do with me after walking on me for a long day. Wendy’s massive, glistening, spongy sole is freezing my tiny naked body, unlike Mom’s and Anna’s which tend to hold their heat for a while out of their footwear. Wendy’s feet instead suck away all my body heat, pulling it into her freezing toes and soles and leaving me feeling like an icicle.

Her massive body has smashed me today, and I’m so tired and broken. I could start crying at any moment, but I’d still much rather be with Wendy than Mom.

I love Wendy. I don't guess I'd mind so much belonging to her…

…

…

…

When Wendy decides to take a nap, I welcome it, and soon I’m lost under a sky of soft white blankets. I’m still stuck to her foot, but under the cover it slowly begins to grow warmer, in turn warming my tiny cold body. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s intentionally returning the heat that was taken from me throughout the day by her freezing sole. It feels wonderful. Before long I hear Wendy gently breathing in the distance, asleep… and for just for a moment… everything is okay.

…

* * *

…

"It’s been a while since I’ve seen you Alisa," Ms. Pattie says as I take a seat. I missed my last three appointments with her, but of course it was completely out of my control. "I haven’t seen you at school recently either," she adds, as I don’t respond.

"I’ve been grounded," I say bluntly. I’m so tired and broken that I don’t care anymore.

"Oh," Ms. Pattie says, lowering her eyes and writing something on the pad in her lap. "Is your arm alright?" Ms. Pattie adds with concern. I look down to see that I’m holding my weak right arm with my left arm. This causes Anna to spring to mind, and I shudder. But before I can stop it, Anna’s giant crushing feet enter my mind and the thought is cemented there, battling with for my attention with what I see in front of me. I was crushed. I was broken. I was nothing underneath Anna’s massive sole, and more than once, I know she was tempted to end my very existance, crushing me underneath herself.

"…Do you know… a girl named… Anna Robins…?" I manage to say.

Ms. Pattie looks thoughtful for a moment. "Is she a little blonde girl?" she finally says. I find it irritating that she refers to her with so little reverence, considering the crushing impact she’s had on me.

I worshipped her.

"Yes, I’ve seen her," Ms. Pattie adds. "Never talked to her though."

"She... wore me in her boots for a week," I say. I know my face must look distant. I’ve waited forever to get back in here, to talk to Ms. Pattie… to get some help. But now I’m someplace else. And then I feel tears welling up. Looking up, I see a look of pure sympathy on Ms. Pattie’s face; a look of sympathy… and of helplessness. "Mom and my little sister took turns wearing me in their shoes for three weeks after that," I manage to get out. "I can’t… do this anymore!" I sob.

"Alisa…" Ms. Pattie starts, but stops again.

…

…

"Would you like me to talk to your parents about what this is doing to you?" she says.

My heart nearly stops. "No, please don’t!" I beg.

"…Alisa, this needs to be addressed. You’re clearly in a lot of pain… both physically and emotionally. I think your mother’s gotten carried away with this, and that they don’t understand-"

"YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!" I hear myself scream. "THEY DON’T CARE ABOUT ME!"

"Alisa, please try to calm down," Ms. Pattie says. My heart is racing. My blood is boiling. How can she be this ignorant of what I’m truly going through? Approach my mother about the problem? Ms. Pattie was supposed to be a light at the end of this tunnel. How could she offer up such a blind solution?

"Don’t you understand! They don’t CARE about me!" I scream.

"Alisa, if we could just talk to them about this, then-"

"They would kill me!" I interrupt, yet again.

"Really," Ms. Pattie retorts dismissively.

"YES THEY WOULD! THEY WOULD LITERALLY KILL ME," I declare, but she still doesn’t seem swayed, the same dismissive look donning her face. It feels like hitting a brick wall. To my utter frustration, I realize that Ms. Pattie is simply too naive of the forces at work in my life. Mom would put an end to my miserable little life if she knew I was actively trying to escape from her. But looking at Ms. Pattie, I see the clear cynicism on her face: Naïve of my circumstances as a shrinker.

I’ll have to shatter that innocence before I can possibly get any help from her.

"Normals kill us every day, Ms. Pattie. Like bugs." I start. I look at Ms. Pattie’s large green eyes to see if she believes me, and I at least see she’s listening. So I continue. "When she was younger… Mom killed her own brother and her own two sisters, just for fun," I say, bluntly. Again, I try to read her. I see her trying to reconcile this notion with her current image of my mother… but I know it must be difficult. "Ms. Pattie, normals kill shrinkers like bugs if we don’t behave… and sometimes even if we do. Just for fun. Mom suffocated her little brother and sister in her shoes just for fun. She even put my aunt on my birthday cake just to watch me eat her when I was little," I add.

Ms. Pattie just stares at me. I still can’t read her.

"If they knew I was talking about this I’d be shrunken permanently, or eaten, or crushed in Mom’s shoe, or something else horrible," I say, finally, averting my eyes from the beautiful, naïve lady. "Ms. Pattie, please…I… I don’t know what to do…" I say, staring vacantly at Ms. Pattie’s dark, black loafers.

For quite a while, all I can hear is us breathing. Clearly she’s having trouble accepting my view of the world around her as the truth. "Alisa… I can’t imagine someone would be that cruel to their own daughter…" she finally says.

"Wendy’s the only one of all of them who cares anything about me," I add. For a few moments all I can hear is my own heavy breathing, as we both absorb everything I’ve said.

"…Wendy?" Ms. Pattie finally asks.

"That’s my little sister…" I say, exasperated. I feel my heart starting to slow down.

…

"But didn’t you say your little sister wears you in her shoes too?" Ms. Pattie asks.

"She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Mom and Dad make her do it. She just thinks it’s funny to make me smell her feet," I add. "Mom taught her to do it, she doesn’t understand how much I hate it," I add.

"I see…" Ms. Pattie replies. "Alisa… this may be a strange question coming from me, but if things are this bad for you, why haven’t you simply… run away, to somewhere that they don’t treat shrinkers this way?"

"I can’t," I reply.

"Why not?"

In response, I point out the window, to a large tower that just happens to be in view. It looks like a cellphone tower, but is taller, with a greater diameter. You can see it from miles away, and there are several of them throughout the town and county. "That tower, it puts off a signal sort of like the one that shrinks me," I say. "But it's for a different reason. My body's grown dependant on it. Shrinkers can’t get out of range of the towers. My muscles will stop working if I do. If you took the signal away for too long, my heart would stop beating."

"I had no idea what those were," Ms. Pattie ponders, looking out the window with me.

"That’s how they found out I was a shrinker in the first place. They turned off the tower by my house one day, and I got so weak I collapsed in front of Mom and Dad."

We just sit for quite a while, as Ms. Pattie stares out the window.

…

…

"Don't you believe me?" I reply, glancing at the ginger-haired lady. She’s become solemn.

"…Yes I do," she replies, looking me square in the eye. "But Alisa, I don’t know how to help you… this is a far bigger problem than I originally thought," she adds.

"I know," I reply.

"Let me… Alisa… let me do some research on this. Let me find out some things. I’ll see what I can come up with, there’s got to be something I can do. I'll help you…. somehow."

And I look away, as I feel a tear roll down my cheek.