Jake Richardson laid back in his bed and let out a loud, deep sigh. He stared at the gray ceiling above him in quiet contemplation.
It had been two weeks now.
Two weeks since the shrinking.
As he surveyed the featureless gray walls around him, he could only wonder what his friends were up to. They had an entire summer ahead of them to enjoy. Video games, beach trips, barbecues. Not to mention the parties.
Jake however, would be spending his summer a quarter of an inch tall.
This was not an unusual punishment. Students that were unable to keep up academically had their sizes reduced. And especially bad students would spend their entire summers shrunken. The worse the grades, the more severe the size loss. And Jake's grades were inexcusably awful.
School was never his forte. The teen just plain had trouble focusing on anything. It got to the point where his motivation plummeted and with it, his grades. And even though he knew the inevitable “Shrunken Summer” (as he and his friends called it) would be his punishment, he still could not find the inner strength to turn things around.
And so summer came, and his height was taken from him.
Students shrunken down spent nearly all their time in a specialized house of sorts. Though “house” was putting it lightly. It was more like a gray metal box on the floor, with another suspended several feet above it connected via a pipe in the center. The pipe was actually an elevator so that the tiny inhabitant could travel between both houses. This was so they could be somewhat eye level with normal-sized folk when looking through a window, but also travel to the floor easily if they had to leave the house for whatever reason.
Theoretically of course. The house was actually locked from the inside, for the student's own safety.
It was rare that students performed so poorly they'd have to be reduced to such a small size to begin with, but originally there was no specialized house for them to live in. Back then tt was up to each student's caretaker to decide how to take care of their shrunken charge. This was up until a certain incident where a particularity brazen student attempted to wander his house without his headset. He ended up stepped on by his own mother and glued to the bottom of her foot. She obliviously trampled him as she went about her day until she sat down to put her sneakers on and noticed something beneath her foot. Thankfully the boy survived though he had suffered several broken bones and severe mental trauma.
Unfortunately that accident was not enough to abolish the Size Rehabilitation Program. Ironically it only intensified it and from that day on students reduced to such tiny sizes were also required to spend their days confined within these specialized prisons built for their size. These were not glamorous abodes, mind you. They were sterile, featureless cells with a bed, a fridge, some basic plumbing and an elevator between floors.
And so Jake continued laying in bed, counting the seconds, the minutes, the hours. His living quarters were placed right beside the front door to his house, meaning he could see into the living room and whatever was being watched on TV, but other than that he had no contact with the outside world. And since no one was home at the moment he didn't even have that luxury.
It was then when Jake felt the faint, tell-tale rumblings of an approaching family member, either his mother or sister. Since the shrinking he had become keen to such things. He could feel the vibrations of a car pulling up in the driveway. Then a car door slamming, and footsteps.
Oh, how he'd become acquainted to the sound of footsteps.
The front door burst open with a mighty gale and the titanic form of his mother lumbered through its opening. The heavyset middle-aged woman huffed as she carried a bag of groceries into the kitchen. Jake climbed out of his bed and sauntered over to the window as he listened to the sounds of the kitchen cabinet doors opening and closing as his mother put the groceries away. Her heavy footsteps shook his core as she returned from the kitchen back to the foyer unencumbered.
Jake took a few steps backward as his monolithic mother leaned forward towards his window, her face so expansive that she resembled something out of a King Kong movie outside his living quarters. She brushed aside her shoulder length brown hair from her face as she squinted to get a look at her tiny son.
“And how are we doing today, mister?” Linda Richardson asked. Her voice boomed in Jake's sensitive ears but by now he was used to it.
Jake attempted to reply, calling up to his giantess mother, but his minuscule voice had no hope of carrying up to her ears. She frowned and placed her hands on the sides of her wide hips.
“Jake, what did I tell you about wearing your headset? It should be on at all times. You know I can't hear a word from you unless you've got it on.”
Linda tapped the small headset clip she had on her ear that enabled communication with her shrunken son.
Jake sighed and stepped away from the window, grabbing his headset from the nightstand besides his bed. It was a spindly, wiry thing that he hated wearing. He swore that they made it uncomfortable on purpose. Still, it was the only way he could communicate with his regular-sized family members, who otherwise towered above him like uncaring titans.
“Sorry mom. And I'm fine, y'know. Same ol' same ol'.” Jake sighed. He hated when she stood this close to his upstairs window, because at his size he could see every imperfection and blemish in her skin. It was beyond high definition. Humans weren't meant to be looked at this way.
Almost as if she subconsciously sensed this, Linda stepped back from his house before continuing, replacing the view outside his window with that of her massive black blouse.
“Don't try to be so glum,” Linda replied, “You'll be back to normal soon. In the meantime try to treat this as a.... vacation of sorts, honey.”
“What kind of vacation is this?” Jake snapped back, “I'm a prisoner!”
“And whose fault is that? How many times did I tell you to get your act together? You knew this was coming, hmm?”
Jake hung his head down in silence. His mother was right.
“You know how important school is,” Linda continued, “I just hope this teaches you to turn your grades around. I know it did for your sister. And don't think I like you like this either, because now you can't even help out around the house.”
“Yeah.” Jake replied, defeated.
Linda let out a deep sigh, rubbing her temples.
“I'm going to go upstairs and rest for a bit, then I'll start dinner. My feet are killing me!”
With that, Linda stepped out of her shoes and walked off. Jake could hear the sounds of her bare feet slapping on the linoleum of the foyer before she padded onto the carpet. When he heard the creaking and groaning of the stairs above, he got in his elevator and went down to the first floor of his prison.
He walked up to the window and saw them. Right in front of the side of his prison, as usual. His mother's discarded black leather flats. And once again he was reminded of why he couldn't focus in school.
His fetish for feet.
It started as a small preoccupation. But before long it was a full-on obsession. And his teachers didn't make things easy. All of his teachers the past year were women and they would often come to work in high heels or even exposing sandals making it difficult for Jake to focus in class. He would spend his periods daydreaming of being crushed beneath their feet or forced to service them. In his more perverse fantasies he even imagined being made to smell or lick them while reduced in size.
But those were just fantasies. And the reality was much more damning. Jake was trapped in his prison, only allowed out a few times a day, usually to eat. And the only women around were his mother and sister. Which was part of why he was feeling torn apart inside.
He could never dream of incorporating his own family members into his sick fantasies, that would be abhorrent. Yet at his size their feet were certainly a much larger part of his life now.
His mother would usually leave her shoes at the door, an unconscious tradition that had not changed even when Jake's house had been installed next to it. Depending on the shoes she wore that day and the temperature outside this usually meant the downstairs part of Jake's prison would often be lightly scented with the musk from his mother's feet when she first came in from work.
The first time completely caught him off guard. He was laying in the bed within the floor-level portion of his abode when his mother walked in, treating him to a front row seat of her wrenching her sore feet from a pair of tight heels, leaving the empty footwear to air out right into his little alcove.
He hated himself for being aroused by this. But with no social life or access to the internet, Jake was becoming more and more sexually frustrated. He tried to rationalize it in his mind by separating feet from the people they were attached to, but in his heart he knew that was flimsy at best. He also knew his mom wasn't doing it on purpose, she always left her shoes at the door and probably never even considered that he could smell them.
Yet as the sweet, yet twangy, leathery scent began to crawl out from her discarded flats and through the window of his jail, he knew he wasn't going to ask her to move them...
“This is going to be a long summer,” Jake sighed.