********************************
Friday: 3’8”
I didn’t speak a word all morning. We went through the usual routine of Kyra making breakfast then feeding it to me, but this time the process was much more businesslike, with me still cowed by my experience the night before and Kyra no doubt still greatly upset and disappointed at my naughty behavior – whether she actually believed it, or was just pretending. Either way, I didn’t dare disobey her, simply out of fear of more physical torment. But, to be honest, beyond that I didn’t really give a damn how she or anyone else felt. Not anymore.
As sullenly as an inmate on death row, I let Kyra lead me to the car and eventually into the day care center. There was now no way to cover up my loss of 6 inches since Tuesday, but after pulling Mrs. Walker aside for a brief explanation, Kyra had no trouble convincing her to keep my situation confidential. Fortunately I had had no substantive interaction with any other supervisor, quite conveniently leaving them oblivious to my changes amidst a sea of children of all different heights.
Susie, though, finally took notice as well; if she hadn’t been so young she would certainly have noticed sooner, but now that she stood an entire head taller than me it was all too obvious. “Did you get littler?” she asked off-handedly, as if it wasn’t a big deal. After all, kids her age changed height all the time, though usually in the opposite direction!
I nodded sullenly, still loath to speak after last night. Mrs. Walker chimed in, “Yes, Susie. Jimmy has gotten a bit smaller but it’s nothing to be concerned about. Just go ahead and play with him like usual.” As if being smaller would in itself disqualify me from playing with her.
The day wet by more slowly than normal because I simply wasn’t able to lose myself in our fun like I had before. I went through the motions anyway, half-heartedly acting out my part in the scenes while limiting my lines to a mumbled phrase here and there. My lack of enthusiasm clearly rubbed off on Susie, too, and I did feel bad. I knew, of course, that she had had nothing to do with the horrors of last night, and I felt perhaps a thin layer of the icy shell over my heart begin to thaw as I took comfort in the carefree simplicity of spending time with Susie. As pathetic and miserable as it sounds, Susie was now the closest thing to a friend and equal that I had in this crazy world. I was able to open up to her a little bit and get more involved with our games, though the hurt was still too deep to allow me more than just a glimmer of happiness that day.
That evening proceeded much like the morning had; we ate in silence, then I was told to do my chores, which I did unquestioningly as well as lifelessly. It wasn’t long before I was put to bed, ending the first monotonous day of my new life without hope.
********************************
Saturday: 3’6”
The only event of note was the return of Grace, that awful, mean, … --Well, I certainly would have conjured some far more colorful adjectives to describe how I felt about her, but frankly I lacked the energy and motivation to get myself worked up about it. I just … I couldn’t see how anything mattered anymore, now that I had lost all attachment to any living being – Susie excluded, perhaps – and I was unable to imagine what good could possibly come of my life in the days, weeks –even years – to come.
“Well, well, it looks like I have the pleasure of watching you again,” Grace said sarcastically, once Kyra had left for her date with Steve. “First thing’s first: for all the terrible things you did on Wednesday, I believe you owe me an apo—“
“I’m sorry, Grace, it won’t happen again,” I said solemnly, even before she could finish speaking.
“Uh … what?” She did a double take, clearly expecting my usual resistance to her tyrannical demands. Furrowing her brow in confusion, she continued, “You’re sorry? You saw what I wrote on that paper, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She scratched her head and added, “So you’re, like, not going to tell me that I was lying about all those things?”
We both knew they were lies, but why should I care, now that any shreds of dignity and self-worth were taken from me. “No, ma’am,” I told her. Just to be clear, I added, “I’m sorry for spilling nail polish on the floor and putting my dinner down the drain and cursing and disrespecting you.”
She was completely caught off-guard by my radical change in disposition. “What the fuck??” she muttered under her breath. Frustrated, she whined, “You little -- Gah! You’re no fun!” Then she immaturely stomped away towards the couch and turned MTV on, leaving me in peace. I shrugged, only vaguely content with how easily I had handled her since I didn’t much care one way or the other. At least, if Grace gives Kyra a good report, it will mean less physical abuse than otherwise, which is about the only thing that could force a reaction from me now.
Grace tried to provoke me a few times, making me fetch things for her from the kitchen and promising me a bite but yanking it away at the last minute. It all seemed quite childish, really. Soon her patience with me ran out, and she resigned herself to watching her TV show while leaving me to do whatever I wanted. Of course, there was literally nothing for me to do around the house these days, so I just went to my room and lay on my bed staring at the ceiling to pass the time.
Sometime later, I heard Kyra return and ask Grace how I was. “He’s so freakin’ boring now – what happened to him?” Grace complained. Kyra gave a vague reply about me receiving a punishment after last time, and after a bit of chit-chat Grace headed out.
I heard footsteps on the stairs then Kyra appeared in my doorway. “Grace tells me you behaved yourself this time,” she declared, stepping towards my bed. She was still dressed up from the date she had just returned from, wearing that sexy black dress I had come to love and hate so much over the last two weeks. As her massive form walked up beside me, I felt a twinge of desire course through my body, more emotion than I had felt all day. Because good god, she looked immense to me now, my head a bit lower than her ass now (with her heels on, anyway), and all of her sexy dimensions seeming so … big.
But I still had the resolve to keep my eyes trained up at hers and put such thoughts out of my mind. I had no need for that anymore. I really would have been quite happy to avoid her for the rest of the evening, in fact.
But, as it turned out, Kyra had other plans. “Since you’ve been good all day, I will stay true to my word and give you your reward.” She swiftly bent down, leaned forward, and grasped my crotch firmly with her hand.
“No!” I yelped, pushing her hand away. The prospect of being sexually serviced by Kyra was enough to bring forth some reserve of willpower that had lain dormant since Thursday. I no longer wanted any connection, physical or otherwise, with this monster of a woman.
Undeterred, Kyra replied, “It’s not optional, Jimmy. I owe you for two days now. Besides, it’ll be good for you.” I didn’t want to know what she meant by that, but after a brief and utterly pathetic physical resistance to her advances I gave up and let her do as she pleased. I was helpless to stop her, anyway.
With a piteous whimper, I lay my head back against the pillow and rested my hands at my sides, succumbing to Kyra’s command. “Good boy,” she said simply as she unbuttoned my pants. I closed my eyes as her hands slid my pants down and grasped my soft member.
“Open your eyes, Jimmy,” she commanded. Why? What did it matter? But I obeyed. “Good. I want you to look at Mommy when she gives you happy time, OK?” I nodded confusedly as she began to rub her hand across my shaft. I couldn’t deny that it felt good – really, really f%$*ing good – but I was still able to resist her temptations. That is, until my eyes drifted downwards a bit, past her neck and down into the vast valley of cleavage laid out before me. She was leaning over at a 90 degree angle, revealing the maximum possible amount of her ample tit-flesh, her naturally large boobs having been tremendously increased in size by now from my own shrunken perspective. Each of them had to be the size of my head or bigger, and their sensuous jiggling as she began to work her hands around my crotch only heightened my arousal. I was rock-hard in no time.
“That’s better,” Kyra said approvingly as she quickly picked up the pace. A flood of desire suddenly surged through me, and I suddenly couldn’t help myself. Despite all my distaste and my shame, she brought me to orgasm easily within 15 seconds.
As I lay panting below her, Kyra calmly wiped a bit of cum off her hand, stood up, and told me, “Now, get yourself cleaned up and ready for bed. Lights out in five minutes, honey,” before heading out the door.
My mouth hanging open from the sudden sensory overload I was given, I watched her butt wiggle out of my room and across the hallway before leaving my line of sight. I felt loathing at first – towards her and towards myself – but then, I don’t know what chemicals are released after an orgasm, but they were certainly clouding my judgment, temporarily creating in me a sense of … longing and attachment for the woman who just left. I was mentally in a warm and fuzzy place for a minute or two, until the effects wore off and I returned to my normal, emotionless self, almost as if waking from a trance. I knew it was only a result of my emotionally fragile state that my mind even went there in the first place, but I quickly got over it and told myself it was irrelevant – after all, it was just a series of chemical signals interpreted by my brain, nothing more. No lasting effects. I would remain a hollow shell of my former self, unaffected by the petty comings and goings of day to day life. Finding some ‘comfort’ in that thought, I stood and got ready for bed.
********************************
Sunday: 3’4”
Kyra had me clean the house most of the day. It was already, for the most part, spotless in my opinion, but I didn’t complain. In fact, it served as a welcome distraction from the trials and tribulations of most of my daily life. In response to my own distant and melancholy mood, Kyra’s remained somber and unaffectionate. Whether she had had enough of the crueler sort of torturing me, or whether she was just letting me recover a while before picking up where she left off, I couldn’t tell. However, one thing was constant – she did insist on ‘rewarding me’ for my good behavior again that night, and after coming quickly I again felt pangs of longing for her, which almost completely subsided by the end of the night … almost.
********************************
Monday: 3’2”
Kyra measured my height first thing in the morning. 38 inches, finally less than half of my former height. And, assuming my dimensions had shrunk proportionally, that also meant my weight had dropped by a factor of 8, bringing me to … let’s see … about 25 pounds, where I once was a strapping 220. Jesus Christ, I was puny, weighing about as much as your typical sack of potatoes. I looked down in shame at my half-pint frame, clad in the gaudy Ninja Turtles outfit Amy had gotten me – the only outfit that fit me anymore. As Kyra stood in front of me measuring my height, I was completely dwarfed by her leg, not to mention the vast reaches of her torso above. And though I couldn’t be sure, it seemed likely that just one of her legs exceeded my entire body in weight and circumference, as well as height. Despite my resolute rejection of all cares and emotions in my life, I found myself getting agitated and alarmed at my rapidly changing perspective on the world, making even routine tasks more and more difficult to perform on my own. It struck me that I now truly could not fend for myself without Kyra or some other grown-up to help me out. I could no longer reach the faucet if I wanted water; I could now only climb into my seat at the table with considerable difficulty; and climbing the stairs now required an inordinate degree of effort and exertion. Even going to the bathroom was a chore – I was now too short to pee standing, and once I managed to clamber up onto the toilet seat I had to take care not to let my tiny body fall into the gaping maw of the bowl. And what would happen in the days to come? It wouldn’t be long at all before I was utterly dependent on Kyra’s assistance on even the slightest tasks.
This was serious – how much longer Kyra let me continue to shrink would have dramatic consequences on the entire rest of my life. I could go back to my emotionless, uncaring ways, but after this one crisis was averted. As Kyra picked me up and set me in her lap by the table, I decided to break my silence of the last three days. “Mommy?” I said waveringly, looking up at her enormous facial features.
She was pleasantly surprised to hear me speak. “Yes, Jimmy? Are you finally talking again?”
“Uh … I dunno,” I replied weakly. I suddenly wavered, just from looking up into her eyes. She just looked so … well, so goddamned incredible. I dunno, it was sort of … affecting me, even just sitting there and speaking to her now.
“What is it, Jimmy?” Kyra asked with what actually seemed like a beatific smile. It was lovely.
“Umm …” I composed myself. “I … I was just wondering when you might … you know … let me stop shrinking?” Gone were the days when I would yell and scream for this, important though it was.
“Awww, Jimmy,” she cooed, “don’t worry your wittle noggin over that. Now open wide!” An enormous hand holding an enormous spoon with enormous cheerios approached my mouth.
I opened my mouth for this unexpected intrusion and took the cereal into my mouth. Not to be deterred, I spoke again, although this time my words were jumbled thanks to my mouthful of food. “Mommy, it’s wery imffphortant to me to stawwph shhwinking.”
This only brought heart laughter from Kyra as she told me, “Silly Jimmy! You shouldn’t try to talk with food in your mouth; you know that!”
I chewed through the cheerios in my mouth (which took some effort, since a spoonful was really a large mouthful to me now). But once my mouth was clear, I began to speak again. “Mommy, please listen t—mmfpmfh.” Another big spoonful was shoved into my mouth in mid-sentence.
She laughed again. “Just keep quiet for now, OK?” I fumed at the offhanded way she was treating my extremely serious concerns. I would have to wait until after breakfast, but in the meantime I had another problem to worry about. Kyra continued to put spoonfuls into my mouth, but at a faster rate than I could chew and swallow.
“Pffhmpmh,” I protested while blocking the next spoonful with my hand.
“No, no, Jimmy, open wide!” Kyra scolded lightly. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t ready for more yet but my mouth was still too full to articulate anything. By that time, Kyra had gently pulled my hands down and the spoon had reached my lips, forcing its way into my mouth. I unwillingly took on the new load of cereal and milk, filling my mouth to capacity. I honestly couldn’t tell if she was doing this on purpose, as a sort of punishment for me asking that question of her; or if she truly didn’t quite realize how easily I was being overwhelmed by something so seemingly mundane as spoon feeding. From her perspective, the spoonfuls surely seemed way, way smaller than they did to me.
“Come on, Jimmy, eat faster. We have to leave pretty soon.” It was clear that Kyra had no intentions of slowing my feeding down, though my jaw was getting sore from the nonstop chewing, and I was also having trouble breathing with all the food in my mouth.
My mouth was still half-full when the next oversized spoonful forced its way in. I held in as much as I could, but some milk inevitably squirted out and dribbled down my chin. “Uh-oh,” Kyra cooed, taking the time to wipe my chin clean with a napkin. Fortunately, this bought me enough time to frantically down the rest of the food in my mouth, allowing me room for the next spoonful.
Luckily, it was the last. “OK, I think that’s enough. Are you full?” I nodded, partly eager to stop this semi-torture, but also actually feeling quite full after only 4 or 5 spoonfuls, another side effect of weighing one-eighth of what I used to.
Kyra then stood and shifted my paltry weight to her hip, moving my legs to straddle her from the side, as she got ready to head out. Once we were on the road, I had trouble seeing high enough to look out the windows, but I still was able to deduce that we weren’t going to the day care, to my surprise. “Where are we going, Mommy?”
Kyra smiled down at me and replied, “Why, Jimmy, I’m taking you to my work!” Seeing my confusion, she added, “My school year ended on Friday, remember?” I was so out of the loop on anything and everything involving the outside world. I couldn’t even quite remember the date anymore; I knew it was late May – or was it June already? I suppose a little child like me didn’t need to concern myself with such things, I mused sarcastically.
Kyra continued, “So, since I’m starting my internship at your old company, Becky – or Ms. Johnson, to you – offered to let me bring you to work as well, so you didn’t have to stay at the day care anymore. Wasn’t that nice of her?”
I thought about it for a second. Going to work would mean being around Kyra, and my evil former boss, and – perhaps worst of all – Amy, whom normally I would love to see, but since Thursday I had been dreading our next encounter. “I … I don’t want to go,” I muttered sadly.
“Oh? Why not? I figured you hated the day care.”
Now that I thought about it, the day care was actually, as depressing as it sounds, my favorite place to go these days. I could escape Kyra and everyone else, and spend time with Susie, who as I’ve indicated is literally my only friend left, if you can call her that. “Well, actually I … like it there.”
“Oh, really?” Kyra raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Ah, I know what it is,” she continued with a smile. “You like playing with your little friend, what’s-her-name, um …”
“Susie,” I answered.
“Yes, that’s it. Susie. You like playing with her, eh?” She eyed me inquiringly.
I was almost too embarrassed to admit it. But what was the point of lying to Kyra? She’d get it out of me anyway. And at least if I admitted this, then it might get me out of visiting the office again – which was the absolute last thing I wanted.
So I nodded sheepishly. “Y-Yes … can I go there, please?” I pleaded softly.
Kyra frowned. I decided to lay all my cards on the table in a last-ditch attempt. Putting on a pouty face, I willingly began to beg her like a child who wants a new toy. “Please, Mommy, I wanna go play with Susie! Pretty please! I’ll be good all day, I promise!”
Kyra’s frown deepened as she replied, “No, Jimmy. I already told Becky and Amy that I’m bringing you, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”
“But Mom—“
Her tone suddenly became harsh. “I said no, and that’s final.” As I turned my head away to sulk, she added, “And you had better be good all day, or else. I don’t want my new coworkers thinking I don’t know how to raise a child.” I reflected that everyone there knew I wasn’t just a child, but I didn’t dare object to Kyra. Instead, I resigned myself to a day of misery. During the rest of the ride, I realized that the protective armor of emotionlessness and withdrawal I had been using to shelter myself from the horrors of my life were now showing some serious chinks and holes; as we approached my former office, and especially as we approached Amy, the familiar feelings of dread and agony were returning in force. I tried to remind myself that I didn’t care about anything or anyone anymore – but it didn’t really help much.
Kyra carried me inside the building, hoisting me up more around her upper abdomen since I was too small to be held way down on her hips. As she walked, I had to admit it felt quite nice to cling on to her enormous torso as it swayed back and forth against my frail body, with the sweet aroma of her perfume filling my nostrils and her soft flesh radiating warmth into mine. She was wearing another new work outfit, no doubt bought during the girls’ night out on Thursday, and like always her fashion sense was top-notch. Her black and white skirt suit looked trim and professional, while still bringing out her womanly curves in a tasteful way. In addition, though her top showed only a hint of cleavage, I was able to benefit from all of it from my superb vantage point on her shoulder. I decided to adjust my arm, which I had extended towards her opposite shoulder for support, a little closer in so that my elbow also benefitted from a slight amount of soft cushioning courtesy of her ample bosom.
The moment had arrived. Kyra stepped out of the elevator and walked out amongst the sea of cubicles. Fortunately, she had made sure to arrive slightly earlier than normal to make a good impression on her first day, so there were few others in the office at that time. Of course, the ones who were there had no compunctions about staring and gawking at what had become of me.
Kyra headed for Ms. Johnson’s office and went right in. “Kyra, good to see you!” her new boss exclaimed in delight. “And Jimmy,” she added flatly, probably to indicate her disapproval at my poor behavior the other night. “Well, at least you’re dressed well,” she said somewhat mockingly, referring to the awful matching Ninja Turtles shirt and shorts I had been forced to wear today. “Amy will be pleased.” Turning her attention back to Kyra, she said, “Arriving early – I like it.”
“Of course, Becky, I’m just eager to get started. Speaking of which, where should I set myself up today?”
“Ah, I have the perfect place for you.” She gave a little wink. “Come with me.”
I was taken along for the ride as Ms. Johnson led Kyra to the far end of the office and stopped at a very familiar cubicle. “This desk has been vacant ever since Jimmy left, so now it’s all yours if you want it. Although,” she added with a mirthful grin, “now that Jimmy is back, you should probably ask his permission first, since he’s technically still employed here …” She laughed and winked at Kyra again.
Kyra burst out laughing as well, then collected herself and replied with mock sincerity, “Oh, of course.” Turning her head to me, she asked with a slight smirk, “Well, Jimmy, would you mind if I took your desk?”
I knew they were just playing games with me, since I obviously had no say in the matter. But, considering that I would be stuck here with her and, more importantly, Amy all day, I decided to risk a chance at another location. “Um, maybe we could sit somewhere else?” I ventured timidly.
This brought a round of hearty laughter from the two of them. “Well, Kyra, since he didn’t give his permission, I guess you can’t have it!” Ms. Johnson joked.
Kyra gave me a partially playful, partially serious squeeze and said in a low voice, “Well, Jimmy, I happen to like this spot, so if you won’t agree to it then I’m sure I can find ways to change your mind.” She raised her eyebrows at me somewhat ominously, but also playfully since she knew how easily my resistance would fade with a little … motivation.
That wasn’t the type of game I wanted to play today (or ever). I nodded dejectedly as Kyra replied loudly and sarcastically, “Whew, I was worried I would be left without a desk today!” The two women laughed yet again at my expense.
“Well, now that that’s settled,” Ms. Johnson said, “go ahead and get yourself situated, and once Amy gets in we have a little surprise to show Jimmy.” She smiled perkily at me, as if I would expect this ‘surprise’ to be something good for me.
“Sounds good, Becky,” Kyra replied, and to my surprise Ms. Johnson didn’t even complain about Kyra referring to her boss by her first name. Personal life was one thing, but to let her call her Becky at work was almost shocking, considering how stingy Ms. Johnson always was about formality and protocol. I guess Kyra was a special case, being groomed for a quick rise to upper management – that is, once she was done with high school and was eligible for a full time position …
For the next few minutes, Kyra sat me on her lap as she logged into my computer (though I guess I couldn’t call it mine anymore) using my password and rearranged things on my old desk the way she wanted them.
It wasn’t long before you-know-who showed up. “Why, hello!” a familiar voice called out from behind us. “How’s my office mate doing this fine morning?”
Stupidly, I almost replied without thinking – but then I quickly realized she was referring to Kyra. Kyra spun us around and replied with glee, “Amy! I missed you!” I was abruptly dropped onto my feet as Kyra jumped up and moved in for a warm hug with Amy.
The two of them, seeming like best friends now, started chatting right off the bat, filling each other in on a few details from the last few days while I stood to the side, forgotten. It wasn’t for another several minutes until Amy finally acknowledged my presence. “Hello, Jimmy,” she told me rather dourly, folding her arms across her chest.
I grimaced at the all-too-obvious change in her attitude toward me, but I softly replied, “Hi.”
“Do you have something you wanted to say to me?” she asked, looking down at me haughtily, her arms still crossed authoritatively across her chest.
I was caught off guard. I really didn’t have anything to say to her. In fact, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to her at this point. “Uh … well … not really.”
Amy shook her head disapprovingly. “I expected as much. In the past, I would have at the very least hoped for an apology for the terrible things you did the other night, but now I know better than to expect any decency from you.”
My face contorted in pain and grief at her words, but I realized that from her vantage point, I did owe her a huge apology. Of course, since I was truly innocent, the thought hadn’t even occurred to me. But I was far beyond any hope of convincing her of my innocence now, so I instead tried to summon up a quick apology, though it ended up garbled. “I was – I mean, I wish – uh …”
She raised her hand up sharply to silence me as she replied, “Save it. I know you don’t mean it.” I was expecting things to be different between us, but I did not expect such hostility and condescension from her! “Look, Jimmy, we need to clear some things up right now.” She took a seat in her chair.
Kyra interjected, “I can leave if you want some privacy.”
“No, no, of course not, Kyra. It’ll only take a second.” Amy turned her gaze to me and patted her lap. I didn’t pick up on what she wanted at first, still a little shocked from what had just happened. Impatiently, Amy demanded, “Come here, Jimmy.” I hesitated for a second, but Amy raised her eyebrows at me threateningly. Jesus, she was just like Kyra now …
I would have given anything to be able to just run out of there and hide in a corner all day, but I knew that wasn’t an option. Grudgingly, I stepped forward as Amy scooped me up and plopped me onto her lap. I gulped, taking in the immense proportions of the cute girl I used to tower over, back in the day. She sat me sideways across her thighs so that I could crane my neck up to her face. The whole situation was quite intimidating, especially given my fear of what words she would speak next.
Those fears, as it turned out, were well-founded. “Let me get right down to the point. Remember when I told you that I would always treat you like an adult and respect your rights and feelings?” I nodded apprehensively. “Well, I’m afraid that’s no longer possible, Jimmy.” My eyes shot wide open, my worst fears being realized.
Amy continued, “It’s clear to me now that James, the grown man I once knew, is gone forever. You, Jimmy, are all that’s left, and I know now that the only way to keep you from acting up is to be strict with you. From what I’ve seen, Kyra has done a wonderful job keeping you in line”—she nodded appreciatively at Kyra—“and she tells me that recently you’ve been good when she’s around. But as soon as she leaves, you become completely out of control, like you were with me last week in this office, or when you were with the babysitter. So I’ve realized that I, too, must be strict with you.”
I tried to plead with her that, regardless of what she thinks about me with other people, I would always be good to her. “Amy, I’m your friend, and—“
“No, Jimmy, not anymore. From now on, you need to call me Ms. Adams and treat me with respect. Do you understand?”
“But Amy—“
“There’s no talking me out of this, Jimmy. Now, answer.”
Grief-stricken, I held back my tears and replied, “Yes.” She cocked her eye at me expectantly, and I hastily added, “Yes, Ms. Adams.”
“Good. Now, I don’t mind you being here while Kyra and I work, but—and I’m sure this goes for Kyra as well – while I’m working, I expect you to be on your absolute best behavior. I won’t tolerate any interruptions like last time. And I think you know what will happen if you misbehave,” she said ominously, laying her hand suggestively on my rear, which had just recently recovered from the pounding it received from that same hand on Thursday.
I gulped loudly and nodded my assent. As she pushed me off her lap onto the floor, I was flabbergasted by how she had just treated me – in fact, I was used to such harsh words these days, but never in a million years would I have imagined her sweet voice was capable of speaking them! She had been instantly transformed from a kind, gentle, loving creature who treated me like a human being when all others saw me as less, to a carbon copy of Kyra herself! I couldn’t detect even the slightest trace of sweet Amy behind the stern glare and belittling scowl of Ms. Adams, as I was now to call her.
Once Ms. Adams was finished, Kyra gave her a grim smile and said, “I know that was hard for you, Amy, but it had to be done.” Ms. Adams nodded back at her appreciatively. “Well,” Kyra continued, “I believe you and Becky had something to show him?”
“Yes, and thank you, Kyra. Come along, Jimmy.” Ms. Adams stood and extended her hand to me, which I resentfully accepted. She practically crushed my fingers in her strong grip as her humongous hand led me out of the cubicle. She provided no concession for my half-sized legs, walking at a brisk pace towards Ms. Johnson’s office. I essentially had to sprint to keep up, my hand being held awkwardly above shoulder height to meet her grasp. By that time, everyone in the office had shown up, and the sight of my now-pathetically-tiny body dashing to keep up while having my hand held like a child must have proved to be quite a spectacle indeed.
With Kyra trailing behind, we entered my former boss’s office. “Ah, good, you’re here. If you’ll help me with this …” Kyra walked around behind her desk and helped her lift up a rather large object that looked like some type of folded-up fence perhaps. “This will keep him from running around while you’re working,” Ms. Johnson explained. Oh hell. I knew what this was: a goddamned playpen, used to contain small children within its small enclosure.
I took a step back in dismay, but Ms. Adams’s hand firmly tugged me forward. “Let’s get it set up,” Ms. Johnson suggested, and the three of them headed back to the cubicle with me in tow, attracting more than a few curious stares. There was just enough space between the two desks to set up the 4-foot by 4-foot playpen, and once the four walls were locked into place I felt Ms. Adams’s huge hands grasp me around the waist, her fingers touching in the middle, and briskly lift me over the rail and down into my new prison.
“Come on, there’s more in my office,” Ms. Johnson told them. As they left, I surveyed my new ‘room’: the four walls were locked into place with no gate or opening; they could only be forced open by someone with much greater strength than I. The top of the bars was at least shoulder height on me, probably 2.5 feet tall, which I could maybe possibly jump over with a running start – but I didn’t dare attempt it. It would be very difficult, and I could get hurt, and it would do no good anyway. I had to face it: I was trapped right here, in my 16 square feet of floor space, for the entire day, unless one of my guardians saw fit to lift me out.
Of course, it only got worse once they returned. “Well, this was a terrific idea, you two!” I heard Kyra exclaim as they entered the cubicle bearing ‘gifts’: crayons, coloring books, story books, and some toy building blocks (not regular LEGOs, mind you; apparently, I was only old enough now for the bigger, simpler version for toddlers, called DUPLOs).
“Actually, it was Amy’s idea to put him in a playpen,” Ms. Johnson replied. “I just supplied the materials, stuff I had saved from my own days raising a child.”
So I had Amy – or rather, Ms. Adams – to blame for this latest humiliation. How fitting. As the three of them dumped their ‘gifts’ into my prison cell, Ms. Adams bent over me and said sternly, “Now, Jimmy, we’re giving you these things to play with so that you remain occupied today and don’t cause any fuss for us. But if we let you play with them, you’re not going to cause any mischief with them, are you?” I hated how she was not only belittling me, but taking the lead in doing so, even over Kyra. Had I wronged her so deeply?
“What could I possibly do with these?” I asked, and in my bitterness at being given toddler’s toys I made the incredibly stupid mistake of letting a hint a derision sneak into my voice.
She was not enthused. “Oh, you’ll find a way, I have no doubt of that,” she sneered back at me. She continued in a threatening tone, “And after that little outburst, I have half a mind to take all your toys away right now. How would you like that?”
I didn’t really care for the toys, but I absolutely didn’t want to piss her off any more than I already had. In my sincerest voice, I replied, “I wouldn’t. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Hmph,” she grunted, satisfied enough with my answer.
I looked up to see Ms. Johnson shaking her head condescendingly. “Already making her mad, eh? Not a good start …”
“Indeed,” Kyra chimed in. With that, the three of them got right down to work, with Ms. Adams typing away at her computer and Ms. Johnson going over some things with Kyra. I listened in, having nothing else to do (besides freaking DUPLOs). I gathered that Kyra would be handling mostly administrative duties like filling out forms and restocking paper which, as Ms. Johnson had told her before and which she continued to emphasize, was well below Kyra’s level of ability, but since she couldn’t officially hire her yet at her age, this was mostly all she was allowed to do, really. Ms. Johnson did intimate, though, that she would be sending Kyra around the office periodically, not only for routine tasks, but also to get to know the workers and do some ‘networking’, and even checking up on their work progress for Ms. Johnson. In short, she would be as much of a manager as possible without the actual title.
Soon, the two of them left the cubicle to begin such tasks, and I was left with no one around but Ms. Adams, the hard-fisted enforcer in the body of gentle Amy. And I wasn’t even going to consider interrupting her work. I sat around for probably a whole hour in utter silence until out of sheer boredom I actually resorted to reading some of the books.
That lasted all of 20 minutes, as they were all trite, sophomoric, and very, very short. I sighed from boredom, apparently too loudly, as it prompted a sharp, “Quiet, please!” from Ms. Adams. Great, I wasn’t even allowed to exhale in a manner that produced any sound. I quietly turned to the coloring books and flipped through them in disgust, finding most of the pages already assaulted by wild streaks of color that paid no heed to the outlines given on the pages. I resisted for another 10 minutes but finally gave in by picking up a crayon and flipping to an un-desecrated page. I started to color very precisely, in opposition to the unruly ways of the other kids, but soon said ‘to hell with it’ and drew lazily around the page, often ignoring the black lines in favor of creating my own designs, from spirals to geometric shapes to sunsets and animals and whatever else I felt like. It wasn’t very fun but it at least helped to pass the time.
Kyra returned and saw what I was doing. “Oh, whatcha drawing there, Jimmy?”
“Nothing,” I replied, partially covering it up in embarrassment – I had started a new page and was idly doodling some free-hand giraffes, elephants, and lions, inspired by that page’s themed outlines. Now that I looked at it, my drawings were pretty awful, both due to my dearth of skill and the imprecision of crayons as drawing tools. In fact, now that I thought about it, the way they were coarsely drawn in crayon and scattered randomly about the page, they looked remarkably … childish.
“Let me see,” Kyra said, leaning down to take the book from my grasp. “Oh my goodness, did you do this?” she asked, giggling in surprise at my juvenile-seeming drawings. “Wow, this is great, Jimmy,” she told me, trying to hold back laughter. Ms. Adams turned around and saw them, and even she had to snort in amusement. Kyra announced, “I need to hang this up. Do you mind?” she asked me, but without waiting for an answer she ripped the page out of the book and taped it above her desk, handing me the rest of the book. I grabbed it with flushed cheeks and tossed it to the side of my playpen in bitterness. Why did I have to keep sabotaging myself?
The rest of the day was almost unfathomably boring. Endless hours were spent staring absent-mindedly at the towering forms of my two ‘office mates’ as they diligently accomplished their grown-up tasks. Lunch time was essentially the only change-up, when Kyra lifted me onto her lap and broke off a few pieces of her sandwich to mouth-feed me, nonchalantly telling me she forgot to bring lunch for me and couldn’t spare any more than a few bites on my behalf since she had been working so hard and I was ‘just sitting around.’ I wanted to snarl at her that she had left me no choice to do anything else in my little prison, but by now I was well-trained enough to know better.
Kyra left for basketball practice around 3:00, and before she left she made an offer to Ms. Adams: “Say, Amy, my team has a little exhibition game today to kick off the summer, and I would love it if you and Becky came to watch. It’s at 5:30, which I thought might give you enough time to get over there after work.”
“Oh, sounds delightful! Of course I’ll come support my bestie. Let’s go ask Becky!”
As the two of them got up to leave, I chimed in, “Can I come?” I didn’t relish the idea of spending more time with either Ms. Johnson or Ms. Adams, but I figured the only other possibility was spending time with Grace again, and I went with the lesser of two evils. Plus, I had to admit that I was more than a little curious to see how far my daughter had come in the great sport of basketball --Wait, that was weird; I realized it had been a long time since I had actually thought of Kyra as my daughter, considering how large and dominating she was, both physically and mentally. When this hint of nostalgia passed, though, I was left all-the-more bitter and dejected at my current state of affairs.
Kyra responded to my request by saying, “Sure, Jimmy. That is, as long as Ms. Adams doesn’t mind watching after you while I’m playing …”
“Oh, sure,” Ms. Adams replied, almost disdainfully. “I’m sure I can handle him.” Her cold eyes turned to me and I shuddered.
After long hours of ennui, the moment finally arrived in which Ms. Adams, Ms. Johnson, and I headed to Kyra’s gym. Ms. Adams had carried me all the way from my playpen to the car, where I was held firmly on her lap the entire car ride.
There weren’t many spectators; mostly parents and close friends, no doubt. But, as I sat in Ms. Adams’s lap in the second row near center court, I couldn’t help but feel a bit excited for the approaching tip-off. The starting fives took the court, and as Kyra’s team huddled up for a few last words I saw that she was the one taking the lead in motivating her team and reminding them of their game plan. It seemed surprising to me that she could have gone from not even being on the team to being the emotional and spiritual leader of the team, it seemed.
But she wasn’t just there for moral support – far from it. Kyra, the tallest girl on the team, easily outreached her opponent on the jump ball for the first possession. I watched her run down the court and muscle her way into excellent position under the basket. The ball was quickly fed to her, and with a quick drop step she effortlessly overmatched her defender and put it up for an easy lay-in. On defense, she stepped out on a pick-and-roll and swatted the guard’s three-point attempt, hustling down court in a fast break and racking up a wide-open layup. I became entranced with her performance, my eyes glued to her and no one else as she glided all over the court, making more than a few spectacular plays out there. A faint feeling of long-forgotten fatherly pride grew within me as I witnessed her incredible improvement, far beyond even when the two of us had played in our driveway. I wondered if even at the peak of my 6’6” days I would have been able to match her effort and athleticism on the court. As I continued to watch, though, my mood slowly became gloomy as I recalled our encounters in the driveway, how my diminishing height and her growing skill quickly overcame me. Extrapolating those factors to today, I was overwhelmed by the absolutely absurd disparity in physical ability between us now. In a few short weeks, I had become so utterly inferior to her in almost every conceivable way, and it almost seemed … natural, to be treated how I had been treated. How could I possibly be worthy of any sort of respect or authority from a girl such as her? Maybe she was right …
The game was over all too soon. I lost track of Kyra’s point total at some point, but it was well into double digits, maybe even 20 points or more, which was especially impressive considering the overall low scoring contest between the teams. She was quite obviously the best player on the court and the main reason her team won so easily. She was involved in every play, and not just in scoring but in passing and rebounding and defending – you name it. I would have loved to see a stat sheet on her that game. She was nothing short of impressive.
After Kyra had showered and dressed she came out and met us on the court. “Fantastic game, Kyra!” the other two women cheered. Several opposing players walked by and congratulated her as well. Then Kyra’s coach approached her and lauded her with all sorts of praise, being quite taken with her new star recruit. As they talked, a basketball happened to roll my way and bump into my leg as I stood beside Ms. Adams. I bent down and hoisted up the heavy, beach-ball-sized leather ball, and as I cradled its girth in both arms I could scarcely conceive of how I was ever able to palm such a ball in one hand. I cautiously bounced it off the ground and batted it with my hands in an awkward attempt at dribbling, awed by my lack of physical ability.
By then, the ladies’ attention had turned to me. “Looks like your little brother’s trying to follow in his sister’s footsteps!” the coach announced merrily.
“Yep,” Kyra replied. “Someday he’ll grow up to be a basketball star!” She looked down at me with a smile as she playfully tousled my hair.
“Go on, little guy, let’s see your jump shot!” the coach encouraged.
I held the ball and looked up hesitantly. “Go on, Jimmy,” Kyra insisted.
I had to admit I was somewhat curious to see what I was still physically capable of. After taking a few steps toward the basket, I hoisted the heavy ball up to my chest, and with the full force of both arm I heaved the ball with all I had towards the basket looming impossibly far above me.
It fell well short of even the bottom of the net. I reflected with dismay that I could no longer even throw a basketball as high as I used to be able to reach bare-footed. Hell, with a good jump I used to be able to reach well above the rim and dunk the ball with ease. My abilities had fallen so far …
I was, however, at least given the opportunity to score once again as Kyra handed me the ball and effortlessly whisked me into the air – way, way up into the air, so high that I became dizzy from vertigo. “Try again!” she encouraged cheerfully. As Kyra held me up with outstretched arms, I was now within even my own pitiful scoring range, just a foot or two below the rim. As light as I was, Kyra had no problem holding my body steady, making my shot easier. I took a deep breath as I lined up what would almost certainly be the last made basket of my entire life. Putting a good deal of force behind my shot, I shoved the ball as precisely as my undersized hands would allow, and to my tremendous satisfaction the ball elevated above the rim, bounced off the backboard, and rolled in.
“Yay!” the ladies behind me cheered, as if to a child taking his first steps. As Kyra lowered her arms to bring me in for a warm hug, I felt genuine happiness at my success for the next few moments, but I quickly sobered as I realized the hopelessness of my current state; whereas I was once able to hold my own against any man who stepped onto the court, I was now only capable of making a shot from two feet away, held aloft in the hands of my gigantic (former) daughter, who based on her swift mastery of the sport could probably easily get a full scholarship to college now from some NCAA women’s basketball team.
My worries were soon forgotten, though, as I pressed my frail body into her warmth, feeling a now-strong sense of pride. But this time it didn’t feel like fatherly pride. No, as she lovingly cradled me in her arms I began to feel the happiness and security of being in the care and protection of someone so impressive.
The other two ladies said their goodbyes and headed for their respective homes, letting me have Kyra all to myself. Once we were alone, I whispered into her ear, “You were amazing out there, Mommy,” and I actually meant it.
Her eyes lit up with delight and compassion as she replied, “Why, thank you honey!” and planted a wet kiss on my lips. Surprisingly overcome with emotion, I wrapped my arms tightly around her neck and wouldn’t let go for anything, until I reluctantly had to let go to be placed in the passenger’s seat of her car. Rubbing my thigh tenderly from time to time, she drove us home, stopping to pick up dinner along the way. Once inside, I was all too happy to get back on her lap and let her feed me, softly telling me what a good boy I had been that day.
I wasn’t quite sure what had come over me that evening, but certainly my emotionally fragile state had something to do with it, especially now that I had lost Amy as a friend and wanted to fill that void in whatever way possible, seeking happiness. So maybe, just for tonight, this was making me want to get along with Kyra and just give in without fighting back. It was hard work fighting her all the time, and maybe I deserved to relax and be happy just this once.
After a half hour of TV, during which I paid absolutely no attention to the TV – her indescribable body had a lot to do with that – it was time for me to go to bed. “Go up and brush your teeth, and Mommy will give you a special treat once you get in bed.” My eyes lit up in delight at this wonderful news. I was to be rewarded for my good behavior. OK, I would definitely go along with it for today …
I dashed upstairs as fast as I could, which was actually more like crawling at a snail’s pace since each stair was as high as my knee. But after that I quickly got ready and climbed up into bed, eagerly lying in wait.
A whole excruciating minute later, I heard Kyra’s footsteps on the stairs. My cock was already beginning to stir in anticipation. As Kyra’s glorious form filled my doorway I was at full salute. “Where’s my good wittle boy?” she cooed.
“Here, Mommy!” I called excitedly.
“There he is,” she answered in a sultry voice, sauntering up and taking a seat beside my prone body, her immense weight pressing down on the bed and pulling me into her. She lightly traced her fingers along my chest, sending waves of goose bumps across my entire body. “Have you been a good little boy?” she asked slowly.
“Yes, Mommy!” I replied in earnest.
“That’s right, you have been,” she replied, leaning her torso forward until she filled my vision. “And what happens to good boys?”
“They get rewarded!”
“Uh-huh,” she chuckled. “Are you ready for your reward?”
I was about to burst in my pants from the tension. “Yes!” I exclaimed.
“Mmmm,” she hummed in approval as she slowly dragged her fingers down my stomach and snuck them under the band of my underwear. I spasmed as her finger lightly brushed my tip, and my convulsions continued as she proceeded to toy with me in this manner, touching me ever-so-lightly yet sending wave after wave of sensation through me.
She giggled at the dramatic effect she elicited by barely even touching me. “Mommy,” I moaned.
“Hrmm?” she replied sexily.
“Please … I – need you!” I managed through heavy breaths.
“Need me to what?” she asked playfully, continuing to torment me with gentle finger strokes.
“… Make me come!” was all I could say.
“Yesss dear,” she breathed. “Mommy will reward her good little boy now.” Suddenly she seized hold of me, easily encompassing my entire shaft and balls with her hand and urgently kneading up and down, up and down, and –
I came violently, my hips bucking every which way as I spewed into my underwear. It was some time before I settled down enough for her to remove her hand and tenderly lower her body next to mine, encouraging me to coil up next to her as I basked in the afterglow of my glorious orgasm. As my breathing slowed, I became flooded with feelings of warmth and tenderness towards my wonderful mommy. My last thought before falling off into a profound slumber – no doubt influenced by endorphins, not thinking like my normal self – was that I was the luckiest boy in the world to have such a perfect, beautiful, loving mother to watch over me and keep me safe. It was the happiest night I could remember in quite some time.