Stephanie was a good giantess in the next few weeks that I still lived with her, before the rally changed everything. In the meantime she basically just let me live in the doll house in her room and made sure to feed me and give me water. She continued to go to class but for all intents and purposes my academic life was over – I was disqualified as a student now that I lost my personhood.

At first we worked together on getting the house to be more of a functioning real life place. The second day after shrinking Stephanie brought back a bunch of small ceramic pipes to set up an effective system for water and sewage. Stephanie and I always enjoyed a good riddle or puzzle, so when working on the piping and installing a miniature toilet and shower, we continued to bond and talk and laugh – almost like I was normal, even though often enough I couldn't see the face I was talking to in the dollhouse – I could only see a large black hand assisting me with the heavy lifting that I could never do myself. I obviously did the share of precision work – fitting pipes together and installing the shower heads, while Stephanie would hold them for me along the house, and install the metal ties that would lock them into place. She rigged a water feeder from a hamster near the top of the house – in conjunction with the piping system we could use gravity to get water flow, and drainage ran to a sealed plastic container outside. Occasionally she would refill it but it or throw the sewage away but that always took few days.

I never was able to take a hot shower – but I also would never have a setup like that again for a long time – in a few weeks I would be on the railroad.

The third day post shrinking she got back in the evening after her classes, I found myself complaining to her. Oddly, it wasn't from the fact that I was an inch tall and the injustice of the whole thing. No, I was simply bored. Asides from working out and eating the snacks that was left for me, there wasn't much for me to do on the desk or my house. She left a jigsaw puzzle out for me but it was far too big for me to solve (I mean in the sense that I couldn't quite see what I was doing, not the size of the puzzle).

The next before Stephanie had left for class, she attempted to help alleviate my boredom problem. She brought over the remote for her TV at the end of her bed. It was obviously far too large for me to use, but she said that perhaps if I stood on a button and jumped it would work. So I climbed onto the remote's power button – which didn't give even when standing on it, and jumped. Nothing happened.

Stephanie frowned and the sky darkened. I could feel the heat of her hands, and it looked like a dark brown dome surrounded me, the folds of her skin and the swirls on her fingers were visible. I suddenly felt like I had butterflies in my stomach, and froze, just staring.

“Do you mind?” Stephanie said, amused at my trance from her hand. She was beginning to notice the effect her body had on me, especially in close proximity.

I snapped out of it. “Yea, sorry”. I stepped off the button and jumped down from the remote. It was a bout 2-3 yards off the ground in my perspective. At this point I had learned that while I was nowhere near invincible, my lighter body had an easier time dealing with falling that would have been more dangerous if I was full size.

Stephanie's brown fingers gripped the remote and hoisted it in the air. The remote itself looked huge, almost like a black column placed sideways, but to Stephanie, it was just a remote, and it went flying into the air as if it was nothing.

She sat down in front of me, propping her elbows on the surface. The brown towers ascended above me. I could see she had some type of sharp tool in right hand – and she was manipulating the surface of the remote. I couldn't exactly tell what she was doing.

I heard a plastic snap, and saw a piece of red flying through the air, pass the desk table and out of my vision below. Stephanie lowered the remote back down in front of me, this time with the power button removed.

“Try it now, Mark.” I got her idea. Exposing the mechanism below the button meant bypassing the spring – perhaps now I would be able to manipulate it at my tiny size.

I climbed up, walked over the the small gray button that had a spring formerly attached to it, and stepped down. It compressed immediately. Voila! The TV turned on.

I found myself yelling, “Nice, High five!” instinctively, one of the many generic responses I would have when somebody did something I hadn't thought of. Stephanie rolled with it, and put out her hand, suddenly there was a light brown wall of her palm in front of me, extending upwards about 20 yards to the tip of her fingers. For a second I was nervous that she was going to smash it into me. She didn't move though.

Like earlier, I was set back into a trance. The thing was only a few yards in front me, and the surrealism and grandness of it caused my brain to seemingly go into a feedback loop. Stephanie laughed at me, bringing me back to perspective. I stepped forward once and slapped her giant palm wall with my hand. It was soft and warm, the whole thing radiated of heat.

“You really are cute at this size, you know that?” Stephanie said in bit of a teasing tone.

After this she set up the rest of the remote to work for me and left for class. Over the next few days I found myself binge watching tv shows. I didn't want to see the news – what briefly I saw of it was on California's aggressive moves towards depersoning men. It was odd, the shows I watched usually had male stars. I wondered what had happened to the actors.

From what Stephanie told me, fewer and fewer male students went to class – either because of a 3 strike policy reducing them to “non-personhood” or the fact that female students and faculty were making it increasingly dangerous for even two foot tall men. California law seemed to incentivize women to make false accusations, giving the “victim” the first choice to become the tinies owner as compensation for her “trauma”. Even the shrunken men with no strikes were at a disadvantage, as many of the same double standards in the legal system that favored women before President Trent instituted her miniaturization policy were still being enforced favorably towards women – like the idea of sexual assault or violence.

Stephanie told me she actually had to leave class at one point when she saw one of her fellow students destroy the life of another in an act of pure cruelty. The male, still two feet tall and with no strikes, had arrived to class early and taken a seat in a desk specifically designed for him, which was near the front of the room. Stephanie arrived and sat towards the back – per her usual. Another female student entered. She was a white girl, about 5'8”, significantly taller then Stephanie, her skin neither pale nor tanned, her hair a striking golden blond. She wore a tight fitting T-shirt that had jersey design – the numbers 88 over the middle. Below that she wore a denim skirt – and a pair of immaculate white trainers. She came in with another girl – a brunette. They both saw the tiny man and the blond whispered to the brunette – and they both let out a laugh – the brunette then taking a seat near the entrance. The blonde walked over to the the two foot tall man, and then turned, swinging back her white trainer, she rocketed it forward – like she was kicking a field goal. The tiny man didn't see it coming, his head was down reading something on his desk, when the foot made contact with him, launching him from his chair. He went flying backwards slamming into the underside of the full size desk behind his, skipping off the bottom before slamming into the back of the chair and falling onto the seat. He appeared unconscious if not dead. Some of the other girls in the class laughed – most ignored it. Stephanie stood up to yell – she told me she was furious – but in that very moment the teacher walked in. She hadn't seen what happened - I'm not sure it would have mattered anyway.

“Take a seat” the teacher said, looking at Stephanie as she walked forward. Stephanie admits that she had a moment of weakness and she did as she was told. But what she saw next left her dumbfounded.

The blond girl proceeded to walk over to the chair the tiny, possibly dead man was in, and simply sat on him. Her butt completely enveloped him; Stephanie couldn't see a bit of him. The blond girl started squirming in her chair – she appeared to be grinding on the poor man, forward and back, left and right – occasionally shaking her whole butt. After a minute of this she picked up her butt a little – a scream could be heard – it just sounded like the cry of dying animal in tremendous pain. The whole class turned to look – Stephanie included, thinking that the absurdity had finally come to an end – and this blond would get her due comeuppance.

“What was that?” The female professor said, lowering her glasses from her eyes.

The blond then stood up, and in the most ridiculously fake sounding shock said, “EW! This tiny man has been perving on me!” she was smiling while she said this, making almost no attempt to hide her guilt. The other girls who had witnessed it were now either laughing or silent. The one's who hadn't were aghast. Nobody seemed to care about what had actually happened.

The female professor walked over – with a clickity clack of her kitten heels striking the ground.

“My god Mr. Jenkins – this is unacceptable. Thank god for California's addendum to the 3 strike policy. Excuse me class while I take Mr. Jenkins here for mandatory third strike per out school's sexual harassment policy.”

The professor picked him up, his eyes were barely open, blood was pouring from his face and mouth. He was drooping over in her hands.

Stephanie had finally had enough “This is bullshit! He didn't do anything wrong!”

The professor turned and looked at her, she seemed to be in shock. “Young lady settle down, or I'll have you removed from my class for vulgarities” she paused “What's this about bullshit? I myself saw him under her butt” she gestured at the blond, closer to Stephanie than the teacher.

The blond turned around and looked at Stephanie and just grinned at her. The Professor couldn't have even seen that, not that it mattered, and she turned back towards the Professor.

“It's ok – we don't have to pause class. I'll take him down to the office myself – I want to personally ensure he never harasses a woman like me again.” Her voice was deliberately made to sound like she was about to cry – but it was obviously a sham.

“That's very noble of you” the professor said, handing the limp body of the man over to the girl, who proceeded to open up her backpack and stuff him into the bottom, before throwing her books and binders in on top of him. She then threw on her bag and walked out of class.

Stephanie was livid – she ran out of the class after her, ignoring the professor's confused questions on where she was going.

The blond was simply walking along before Stephanie caught up to her, and cut off her path.

“What the fuck do you want” the blond said, continuing stepping to the side to walk around her. Stephanie blocked her path.

“What do I want?” Stephanie screamed, “what the fuck is wrong with you - you crazy bitch? How could you do that to a person?”

The blond smiled. “He's not a person anymore. Soon he'll be my fifth tiny slave – total, that is. I already broke the first two.” She laughed again. “It's so easy to exploit the system – and people are so dumb. Women are equal to men, but always trust the word of a woman? All men are oppressors, if you try to debate a girl, it's simply because your sexist” She continued laughing. “We are clearly on the path to a woman controlled world – I don't care about the hypocrisy, or the double standards. I've enjoyed having tiny slaves.”

Stephanie was dumbfounded. She never expected the girl to be so honest.

“You're sadistic” was all she managed to say.

The blond again laughed. “So? My whole life I've been told that all that matters is my personal pleasure. Well, my biology is clearly enjoying this – so why not fulfill my animalistic need” She looked at Stephanie who just stared at her in visible anger.

“So what are you going to do? Stop me? I will press charges if you do – you'll be lucky if your cited with PMSD. Otherwise, get out of my way.”

Stephanie didn't move. But the blond just laughed again, and walked around her – Stephanie didn't try to stop her.

She never found out what happened to that man. She dropped out of class and filed a complaint about it with the school. The school simply responded with a letter that they would allow her to drop it without it affecting her GPA due to “emotional stress” and said that if she pushed the matter further they would cite her with PMSD – post miniaturization stress disorder – a new part of the DSM standards that California conveniently passed which effectively allowed the state to dismiss the claims of woman who still thought men should have equal rights as being a mental health disorder.

There were other stories. This early on most of the female owners considered their tinies as pets – no longer human, but didn't treat them any worse than they would that of a hampster. There were a few women that would set the standard of treatment that would become popular in a few weeks across California, but those innovators were still a vast minority – and not people Stephanie associated with to know the details.

After this experience Stephanie quickly assessed the friends she had and stopped associating with ones who told her they no longer viewed their male counterparts as people. She didn't get in their faces about it – but she no longer associated with them. Those few girls left who did suddenly became an incredibly small click and word was spread – bringing a few other new girls to associate them. In a few days we would first meet, and the first inklings of railroad was born.