Kyla's Mom (Patreon)

*Marked as Patron Only due to nudity*

Deborah was rather prejudiced against those with the diminutive disease. She saw them as most did, bugs, pests, freeloaders. Even scoffing at the idea that there were ‘free’ mants. They were all the same to her, and it was only inevitable a mant would start bottom feeding like the rest of their ‘species.’

So when her daughter Kyla began to shrink, it shook her world for a while. At first she was in denial. ‘No,’ she thought, ‘Not my Kyla. She’d never be one of those things, the doctors were just wrong.’

Kyla herself was almost convinced by her mother, but it changed once she began to feel her reduction in size. Little after little, her shirts became too baggy; her pants too loose. Her shoes stopped fitting, her jewelry becoming too heavy. But still, Deborah would not believe her daughter.

In February, Kyla was about her mom’s height. By September, she’d lost two and half feet of height. As the month went on, Kyla ceased shrinking for a time. But for all the research she’d done on the disease, this was not reassuring. In cases like her’s, it was common for the victim to lose consciousness and shrink to completion by the time they came awake.

Kyla could barely sleep. Whenever she became tired, a terrible sense of dread would overcome her. As illogical as it might have been, she feared if she fell asleep she’d wake up a bug. All those times she’d stepped on mants, or eaten them, and she was on her way to becoming just like them.

By this time, though, Deborah had come mostly to terms with the reality that her daughter had lost half her height, and it was only going to get worse. She’d read up online with ways to cope, and about other experiences parents, family, and friends had when losing their loved ones like that.

‘Coping with Diminutive Disease as a Parent’ was one article she found. It detailed ways of assuring yourself the diminished person was still human, and still your child. It suggested ways of ‘size-proofing’ your home to ensure your child could still live as happily as they could.

This kind of progressive information on the subject was few and far between, however.

‘Coming to Terms With Human-Bugs’

‘Training a Former Giant as a Servant’

‘What kind of footwear is best to store your mants?’

Not to mention the numerous forum posts and discussions Deborah came across showing she wasn’t alone in her disdain and feelings of superiority when it came to shrunken people.

“I was really devastated when I found out my mom was shrinking,” one comment read. “I really missed her, but felt so much closure on the situation whenever I ate her.”

“You ate your mom?” Someone replied.

“Yeah,” they replied. “I did it for a lot of reasons, but tbh, the biggest reason was because I was hungry and she was within reach at the time, lol.”

There were lots of other comments just like this one, detailing how giants ate their former friends, family members, and spouses. There were just as many talking about how they enslaved shrinkees as well.

“My wife and I keep our mants in our shoes most days,” a comment read. “We lost our children to the disease a long time ago, we don’t really see the little bugs as our children anymore. You can try to, at the beginning, but trust me, your opinion of them will change.”

Maybe, just maybe, if Deborah had exposed herself to more pro-mant information Kyla would still have a chance at a humane life. But when everywhere you look there’s discussion of like minded people saddened by their loss, but giddy at the chance to be truly superior to somebody, anyone easily influenced could fall down the very common pipeline of mant abuse.

~

Kyla trekked across the rug on the floor towards the couch in which Deborah was sitting, watching television. The room was a comfortable sixty-eight degrees, but to Kyla, it was freezing. She awoke unable to find any of her mant sized clothing, and embarrassingly was forced to ask her mom about it.

Deborah’s two massive bare toes sat snugly atop the rug. It was a bit humiliating to Kyla, knowing she was barely the size of her mom’s pinky toe, but climbing her leg was the only way she was able to get her attention.

Kyla’s climbing ability had clearly improved, as she made it up past her mom’s ankles with relative ease. But her climb would be cut short once Deborah felt the tiny clinging to her skin.

She bent down and pinched her daughter between her thumb and middle finger before lifting her up to her face.

“Mom!” Kyla shouted, “You have to be more careful! Warn me before you start… man-handling me—”

“What is it that you want, Kyla?” Deborah asked. She was in no mood for her daughter’s complaining.

“I, uh,” she gulped, feeling uneasy in the palm of the giant’s hand. “Can’t find my clothes, I’m really cold…”

“Oh,” Deborah sighed. “About that. I threw away your clothes.”

“WHAT?!”

“Yep,” she said casually. “I didn’t think you’d need them anymore.”

“What are you talking about?!” Kyla was furious. “I’ll always need clothes!”

“You’re just fine without it,” she replied.

“I don’t want to walk around naked all the time! What’s with you?!” Kyla was trying her best to cover her privates.

Deborah shrugged. “What does it matter? You’re a mant, honey, nobody is thinking about your privates.”

“Don’t use that word!” Kyla bit back. “It’s derogatory!”

“Are you talking back to me?” Deborah was becoming frustrated. “I don’t have the energy for this today.”

She leaned forward, covering her daughter’s mouth with her thumb. Kyla struggled against her fingers, but her effort was for naught.

Kyla dropped against the cold, wooden coffee table sat in front of the couch. Before she could stand to her feet, her mother had already leaned back comfortably, lifting her bare feet atop the coffee table, placing Kyla between her dirty heels.

She was speechless. Kyla knew Deborah’s feet, or any giant for that matter, were larger than her. But to see the sitting upright directly in front of her was something else. The soles towered over her. An oppressive warmth and odor assaulting her senses and skin.

“Start licking my feet, you dirty mant,” Deborah scowled. “And don’t argue with me. I WILL put you in my socks tomorrow.”

Kyla began sobbing and screaming. She’d felt it for a long time, but this confirmed it. She lost her mom. No longer was there love in their relationship, but instead hateful, sizeist, bigotry. Just as Deborah had mourned and finished mourning the loss of her giant daughter, Kyla, too, mourned the loss of a mother with any sense of humanity.

In order to avoid the fate of becoming Deborah’s insole, Kyla obeyed.

She’d never felt so small in her life, figuratively and literally.