When I woke up, my world was already in motion. Hannah was already up and doing something. I don’t really know what, but she is pacing around her room. The soft fabric of her pajama top is swinging gently, back and forth against her skin as she walks and pauses and walks again. The pocket I am in could fit hundreds of me, that’s how small I am, but there is only one of me. I guess she felt me moving around as I woke up, because she’s stopped moving. A shadow covers the front of the pocket, and I slowly see it take the shape of a finger outside the fabric wall. It gently pokes around the area until it locates me. She gently pushes her finger on me and rubs me slowly. I squirm a little to show acknowledgement that I felt her touch. Did her heartbeat become slightly faster during this moment, or am I just imagining things, in the sudden stillness?
“Good morning”, I hear her thundering yet sweet voice from above. Well, not just from above, but all around me. I could feel her lungs emptying thousands upon thousands of cubic meters of air, and her voice resonates through her skin and clothes. The pocket is still closed though, I cannot see her and she is not making a motion to reach for me. “I’ll get us some breakfast after I shower”, her voice continues, “but for now I’d appreciate it if you just stayed in there, ok? I don’t want to lose you”.
I’m not really used to people requesting things from me, instead of outright demanding them. Suddenly my whole world shifts, as she pulls her top off her body. I am in freefall as the piece of clothing crashes on some soft surface – probably her bed. Her hand approaches and her fingertip squeezes me gently once more, before her shadow turns around and I hear her footsteps as she walks away.
I could now easily walk out of her pocket and explore around. I crawl my way out on the top of the pocket, and exit through the gigantic flat opening. I rub my eyes as they try to focus on the landscape. I am indeed on her massive bed, a bed that was as long and wide as a small town for my kind. The covers have some sort of white and pink pattern, and they are slightly messy, forming small hills and valleys around. I immediately feel the cool breeze of the air around me. I don’t really like it, and I would prefer to be close to Hannah’s reassuring body heat. I remember her instruction and head back into the blue pocket, into her leftover warmth, thinking about the last twenty-four hours. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear a showerhead emptying oceans of water on a body so huge that I can’t really describe.
Yesterday I woke up in a much different place than my new owner’s soft clothing. Indeed, I woke up under my bed. Not on my bed, under it. That’s the place I belonged. The fake plasticky fabric of my cage’s floor bit into my back. I did not wake up from the discomfort, however, but because of the creaking noise. You see, my bed was not only mine, but it belonged to two other tiny people. I stand about a quarter inch tall, but they are much bigger, a formidable whole two inches. The store has those on display, and I’m an afterthought. I don’t dare sleep on the bed however: the last time I tried, I ended up being used as a toy for the couple’s games. And they were going at it again above me, causing a huge noise. So I’d rather not be entangled around their massive arms and legs, or being kicked by their feet that are as long as I am tall, and I slept under my bed.
Their own noises are drowned out by the sudden, shuttering noise of the shopkeeper lady’s fingers tapping the glass of our display. “Customer”, she yells at us. “Stop fucking, you two, and try and sell yourselves. If you don’t, I’ll feed you to the cat’. I’m pretty sure the thought of sex is out of their minds immediately. They jump off the bed, I can see their legs hitting the floor, as they run to the water bottle to get cleaned up and look somewhat presentable.
Tiny people cost thousands of dollars. They grow up as slowly as a normal human, they have to be healthy, they have to have at least some basic reading and writing skills in order to be useful as human pets, as well as a general understanding of a world that is too large for us to ever be a real part of. We still learn about geography, and politics, and about how common household stuff works. We also learn that if we anger or displease our masters, we have no rights and we can be punished. Total obedience is something I have learned ever since I was taken from my birth family, my real family. I do not remember them at all any more. All I know is that very rarely, during a normal human pregnancy, a tiny twin will be born alongside the normal baby. Somewhere out there, my brother is living a normal human life, and he looks just like me, only ... he’s a real person instead of a toy. When I could walk and talk, I was sold off to be educated and trained for the rest of my childhood and teenage years. I won’t bore you with the details, but you can tell that I was a success, since I survived and was deemed appropriate to be sold.
The giant couple are finishing their preparations. They don’t care about me, thankfully, they only care to get sold today. I won’t. I’m the runt, too small to be useful. At my size, I don’t really have a use as a toy, or as a companion, and I am not worth my price, according to the market. I peer under the bed, looking towards the glass windows. I might not get bought, but I am always curious about the customers. They are so different! Men and women of all ages, and everyone is looking for something different. There are other boxes next to mine with other tinies, with all sorts of sizes. Most are bigger than me, all the way up to a comfortable doll-sized person, and all the way down to people who are only visible under a microscope. I am not sure how are those even detected at birth, and how they don’t just drown in the fluids of their planet-sized sibling’s birth, but they do have their uses. I don’t know what, but if they are being sold, they must have a use.
A face appears on the window. It’s a sweet, round face, with ashen blonde hair. My first thought is that it’s a child, as she is not bending down to look at our enclosure. I can feel the couple being slightly afraid. You do not buy tinies for your kid if you are a normal parent. They are too expensive, and children cannot care for them correctly. Only rich dads with spoiled kids buy them, and if the kid is spoiled, the tiny will probably end up abused, forgotten, or killed. I smile and hope that she’ll buy those damn two sex crazed tinies, so that I can have the bed for me again.
I look at the girl again, and my first impression vanishes. Those brown eyes are peering in our room not with a childish excitement, but with a careful and calculating look. I look at her other features, and slowly realize that this person is not a child. She looks like a late teenager, or at most an adult in her early twenties. But she’s not bending down to look at us! Did they move our box higher up? The shopkeeper lady walks next to her, and it’s not an illusion anymore. The girl’s head reaches only about the chest of the lady’s body.
“Those have been trained to have social skills. Reading, writing, math, some science, current events…” I can hear her trying to make her standard sales pitch. “You can get only one if you wish but I’d advise you to get both if you’re in biology or anatomy, and they like to fuck each other, so why split them?”
The girl does not respond to the shopkeep’s forced laugh. She opens her mouth, her soft pink lips parting gently, barely revealing the massive black pit of her maw inside. The shopkeeper keeps talking about the two others as if they’re the best thing since sliced bread. I don’t know what’s great about sliced bread, really, since it’s a big slab of bread, the area of a small field for me, but I’ve been taught that it’s apparently the thing against which all great inventions are measured. But the girl isn’t really interested in hearing about how the two sex crazed things would keep her company. She isn’t really blushing, but looks rather uneasy at the prospect. “Miss, when you say companionship, do they just …talk and do stuff?” The owner is taken a bit aback. When college aged girls come to her shop, it’s because they’re about to charge a live, expensive sex doll on daddy’s card, not to talk politics with their toys. “Yes, why, they know their ABCs, as I told you! Neutered so that you won’t have to worry about tadpoles anytime soon, but they still have drive, isn’t modern tiny medicine amazing? Now, as I said, you can shove them anywhere you want and they’ll be fine, trained for any kind of contact and clothing situation. Why, you could probably sit on them easi-“ “Thank you. Can I spend some time with them?”, the girl interrupts her.
The lady isn’t too keen on letting the girl alone, but she’s also been slightly angered by the girl taking her sweet time deciding. On a good day, a sorority brat would have spent a minute before snatching whatever was closest to her bratty palms, but this one is a careful shopper. The bell of the store rings, and she uses it as an excuse to greet another customer, finally leaving the four of us alone.
At this point, I’ve crawled from under the bed and I stand next to it, watching the scene with curiosity. The giant pair is closer to the glass, posing and smiling at her. This is the point where she must choose one, or god, I hope both, and goes away. But she’s not. A few moments pass, and I can see the couple getting a bit restless under the giantess’ gaze. “So, um, I don’t know how this works, but I’m Hannah.”, her giant voice resonates around our box. “I need someone to be with me around the day and, um, keep me company. No, no, not the stuff she was talking about” she quickly adds, turning her head towards the shopkeeper. When she turns back to face us, she looks slightly embarrassed and her soft cheeks have the slightest of blushes. “I just need someone that’s, you know, small. I think you guys can relate.” No, I don’t really relate. You’re the size of a small mountain to me, and even to those two idiots staring at you. But you’re the first person that tried to make chitchat with the toys for a long time. Of course, I don’t speak out my mind, I do not want to draw attention to myself. The others don’t really respond. Hannah looks around her once more, before grabbing the window and pulling the side open, allowing her access to our box. She reaches in with a giant hand. Again, my first impression was that it was a child’s hand, but her fingers are more dainty, less kid-chubby, and more well-formed. She has well-trimmed nails with a soft pink, almost clear polish on them. The couple yelps as she reaches and curls her massive fingers around the girl, leaving her boyfriend behind. The tiny girl squeaks as she is carried off, and Hannah turns her hand so that the tiny girl rests on her massive palm. “Are you trained to be inside a shoe?” I cannot see the girl’s reaction, since the towering fingers that have her cupped in Hannah’s palm are obstructing the view, but I assume that the girl nodded furiously, because Hannah smiled and nodded. I can sense the guy’s disappointment as he seems forgotten, and I am disappointed since I will not be left alone in my cage, after all. “Hey, mistress, how about you take me for your other pretty shoe?” the guy yells up at her. Hannah turns to look at him, with an almost guilty expression. I am trying to imagine what reason she will use to say no. Maybe the girl is prettier and better to look at (I can agree with that too). Maybe Hannah is a lesbian and wants to toe fuck a girl tiny only. Maybe she wants to gift the girl to her boyfriend. As Hannah tries to reply, the shopkeep is back, having already sold a dollsized girl off to her other customer. “Oh, so you’ll have the girl then! Excellent! Want me to ring her up? Maybe tie a bow around her neck?” “Um, miss, how much will she be?” At this point, the guy slumps down and tries not to break down as his fuck buddy is being stolen, no, bought away from him.
“This will be five thousand, sweetheart. Now, are you sure you don’t want the other one too? Look at his broken little heart! I’ll give you both for nine, no, eight and a half.”
Hannah’s expression turns from slightly embarrassed to sad really quickly. A soft “oh…’ escapes her lips, and with an almost trembling hand, she returns the girl to the cage and gently drops her on the floor. She runs to her boyfriend and they hug. Oh god. They’ll be having loud sex again in no time the moment this poor girl gets kicked out of the store for being poor.
“Wait, wait, girl, wait! I’ll give you the girl for four, or you buy the boy only for ...three and a half. Come on, a woman’s got to live somehow!”
“I’m sorry to waste your time, miss”, the girl says, taking a step back – she almost literally shrinks away from the annoyed lady. The scene looks more like a mother that is about to yell at her unruly daughter than a buyer that’s grossly overestimated her budget’s ability.
“Wait! I’ve got it!” the lady yells. “I’ll sell you the runt for two thousand. Just get the thing off my hands so that I won’t have to eventually give him out for free for some pie eating contest or something.” Uh oh. Her hand is already reaching in, shoving the small bed aside with force. The bed slams against the wall and shatters. The two other tinies look back at me, remembering my presence for the first time since they forced me to have a threesome with them two nights ago. I get picked up, buried between the middle-aged woman’s thumb and forefinger, and dumped unceremoniously on Hannah’s palm. It’s soft. It’s soft, youthful and healthy. I sit there, looking up at the chin of the giant shopper. “Two thousand? And he can do what you said?” “Well, yeah, it can speak and do stuff, but he’s so small you’d better get it a megaphone or something. And it’ll probably be harder to please you and you’ll have to worry about squashing it but…” “I’ll buy him. What’s his name?”
Name? The shopkeeper lady starts laughing. This girl has obviously never shopped for a tiny before. I poke my own memory, trying to remember it. Tinies have personalities, but they don’t have names.
“I guess you can name it whatever strikes your fancy. I don’t care. Want me to box it up for you? I can’t really tie a ribbon around this one’s neck, too small for my stuff. Shopping for accessories today, miss?”
“No ma’am, I’ll just wear him out. If you don’t mind. Two thousand okay?”
“Plus sales tax! Come over here now. Will it be card, or cash?”
Hannah’s fingers curl completely around me, closing me in her gigantic, albeit small fist. There is still some light escaping through the gaps between her fingers. I can feel the swinging motion of her arm as she walks. There is some mumbling around me that I’m not paying attention to. I am out of my cage. I am out of this ruddy shop. Finally. I am going to some kind of home. I start wondering what is this Hannah like, but she looks gentle and nice enough.
The two giant women finish their transaction, and Hannah asks for a moment before leaving. She hops on a stool and opens her palm, brining me close to her face. Her breath is somewhat quick, forming small gusts around me. “I hope you’ve been shoe trained too, littlie.” She tells me gently. She’s not really good at this dominant giant thing. She almost looks like she cares, and I would believe it, if I didn’t know better. “We’ll talk more soon, but…” she turns around to look at the shopkeeper who has completely lost her interest in Hannah by now “I’d rather somewhere else.”
She brings me down, close by her feet. They are huge, gigantic to me. “Please don’t make fun of me, but I’m only a size one…” I can’t even begin to fathom how would I make fun of those behemoths that can snuff me out in an instant. I can see her gigantic feet enclosed a pair of gently worn pink converse. Around her bare ankles I can barely see the edge of a white sock. She brings me to the side of the shoe, where there are two small holes. Small is a relative term, of course, as I am slightly taller than they are wide. I know where this is going, and I remember my obedience training. I get up from the middle of her palm, and walk across it, and onto her index finger that is now touching the side of the shoe. Her skin is soft and lovely to walk on. She’s trying to stay as still as possible; she clearly does not know that I’ve been trained to hold my balance while on the body of a normally moving giant. I reach her fingertip, and the edge of the shoe. I look up at her, and she gives me a smile. I cannot tell if it is an encouraging or a shy smile. I belong to her now. I look at the hole again. I can feel her warmth emanating from the shoe, and I can smell her foot scent, a slightly vinegary scent, mixed with something that must be the scent of the detergent she uses to wash her enormous socks. Every foot I’ve been around had a different feel and scent. In time, I’ll grow to get used to this one too.
With nothing else to do, I jump in, into the warm, damp darkness, and into the rest of my life.