Mason - Chapter 28 (Patreon)

After Mason’s weird encounter with his Mikayla (which Nicole knew there was more to than either of them would let on—but she was a bit afraid to dwell on just what the tiny, half-naked guy and the giant, mischievous girl might have been up to), he was dropped him off in his room so he could finally get dressed again. “I’m gonna heat up some leftovers,” Nicole told him, pivoting around to leave before he could respond. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

There actually was something that Mason had been meaning to bring up with her, so once he’d put some clean clothes on, he headed out of his mini house to make the trip to her office. Upon turning the corner of her open door, he saw that the desk was empty, which is right about when he felt a rhythmic series of vibrations grow steadily from behind. He turned to see Nicole walking down the hall with a plate of food in one hand and her phone in the other, not paying attention to where she was stepping. Her shrunken son made sure to hug the door frame as the giant woman walked on by, completely oblivious of his presence, and oblivious to the quick peek up her skirt her took as she walked overhead. It hadn’t been that intentional of a peek (although he certainly could’ve looked away), but he definitely noticed the red thong that stared back at him for a brief moment, an evident contrast from her black nylons and dark skirt.

It took him a minute to head over to her desk and climb the long ladder up, during which Nicole booted up her laptop and began checking her emails as if she wasn’t on her lunch break. They (Nicole, Mikayla, and Skye) had had grilled chicken the night before (resulting in shredded chicken for Mason—a meal akin to normal people eating beef jerky), and Mason watched as his Nicole mindlessly stabbed the juicy chunks before plopping them in her mouth. He’d never told anyone, but even though it tasted great, the meal had been one of Mason’s least favorite options for a few years now. Ever since he’d watched a horror movie in which a bunch of tiny people got stabbed with forks and eaten just like regular food, Mason could never gaze upon a cut piece of chicken and imagine himself in its place. It was alarmingly effortless for her to plop the bite-sized pieces right into her mouth, only needing to chew for a couple seconds before swallowing them and dooming their mashed up remains to her stomach.

He actually had told one person about the comparison before: a therapist, a giant woman who he’d experimentally seen for a couple weeks about a year ago. She’d tried to reason with Mason that, besides the fact that kidnapping, murder, and cannibalism are a pretty uncommon trio of crimes, it would never “make sense” for someone giant to eat a tiny person. “The human body has way too many bones and not enough meat for a tiny to ever make a good meal,” she’d chuckled. “Both in terms of flavor and nutritional value.” Obviously, the woman hadn’t realized the power dynamic behind such a concept; if any giant people ever ate a tiny person, it wouldn’t be because their fridge was empty. Needless to say, Mason didn’t return for any sessions after that.

Nicole’s phone ringing interrupted Mason’s unfond memory of yesteryear, and he stayed quiet on the side of her desk as Nicole glanced down at her assistant’s name on the screen before tapping the answer button. “Hey Kimberly,” she answered, her eyes still browsing through messages on her computer.

“Hi Miss Jeffries, sorry to call you on your lunch, but Doug Trumbull’s tried calling me three times in the last hour to schedule a meeting with you.”

Nicole rolled her eyes and groaned, “God, what does that little man want now?”

“He’s extremely adamant that his revisions to the labor contracts are in line with what he thinks you’re looking for. He says if you agree to them, he can fast track them to go in effect by the start of next quarter.”

Nicole groaned again, with more annoyance in her voice this time, and her eyes wavered from her emails as she glared at her phone, as if her expression might somehow make its way to Doug. “Why does he still think there’s a way he can win this? We’ve been over those damn contracts a dozen times in the past few months. He’s never gonna agree with me. God, I’ve half a mind to just step on that pathetic little shit.”

There was a heavy, uncomfortable beat of silence, and Nicole’s expression softened as she closed her eyes and cursed herself under her breath for saying her thoughts out loud. “Oh my god, Miss Jeffries…” her assistant began to say.

“Kim—”

“That’s terrible.”

Nicole nodded and rolled her eyes again. Another brief silence. “I know, Kimberly, I’m sorry. It was just an intrusive thought. You know what I mean.” She sighed, “You can schedule him for 3:30, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” her assistant meagerly replied.

“I’ll see you back at the office.” And then she hung up.

Mason, though still standing off to the side of Nicole's desk, didn’t make himself known right away. He was too busy reflecting on what it was that she had said about Doug, a person who Mason assumed was a fellow tiny. Maybe one of the politicians of Bayview, or one of the community liaisons that worked with the giant-sized staff that operated Tildus, like Nicole. Regardless, the manner with which she spoke of the man seemed awfully sizist; even if he was an asshole, verbally degrading him because he was a tiny wasn’t something Mason would’ve expected from her. Of course, it could just that she was in a bad mood. That made the most sense to him.

Before Mason had the chance to speak up, Nicole turned to grab a pen from her drawer, and spotted her son standing quietly on the edge of her desk. She flinched in surprise, nervously scoffing at how startled she’d been. “Oh, hey sweetie,” she cooed. “I didn’t hear you climb up. How long have you been standing there?”

“Like, two seconds,” the boy lied.

Nicole quietly sighed and looked back at her laptop, avoiding eye contact so Mason wouldn’t see the anxiety she felt over whether or not he’d overheard her. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, um…”

Continuing to type her reply to an email, she glanced briefly over at him. “Hm?”

Especially considering how he’d just heard her talk about another tiny person, Mason needed a moment to gather his courage, swallowing nervously before asking, “I was wondering if I could have a raise in my stipend? Now that I’m 19 and all.” For about a year now, Nicole had felt bad that Mason was old enough to have his own job, but too small that the vast majority of places could ever hire him. So she gave him money here and there to make him feel better.

Nicole stopped typing, and turned to look down at Mason. Immediately, he felt a small sense of intimidation, even though she was a nice woman and he knew she wasn’t consciously trying to threaten him. From his small size, he was able to see her eyes as they scanned his body up and down, as if his physical appearance might play into how worthy he was of a raise. Continuing to think the matter over, she took a stab at another piece of chicken before popping it into her mouth, all while gazing at her son and mentally deliberating his request. “Besides your age, what makes you think you deserve more of a stipend? Even taking your age into account, actually.”

Mason wasn’t sure how to respond to her challenge. “I want more money so I can buy more things?” That’s pretty much the only reason, but it isn’t really that persuasive of an argument. He didn’t suddenly have a new rent or a higher grocery bill or anything substantial and necessary that’d actually warrant a higher stipend. He just wanted a new sailboat.

Nicole sensed her son’s hesitation from his lack of a response. “How bout this? I’ll raised your stipend by an extra fifteen dollars a week, and in return I’ll think up some extra chores that you can do around the house. Sound fair?”

Mason lowered his head and ground his teeth together. He hated the few chores he was already made to do, because they felt trivial and like a waste of time in comparison to if anyone else in the house did them. For every task with a one-to-one ratio of time needed for normal and tiny people, like bookkeeping on a computer, there were a dozen tasks that would take Mason an hour to accomplish a minute’s worth of a normal person’s work. And at that point, when his efficiency showed to be so slow in comparison to the work ethic of the others, it felt like he was just doing work for the sake of doing work, not because he was actually doing anything useful.

“That’s okay,” Mason replied. “I’ll think of something else.” He turned to head back down the ladder, but Nicole struck an idea before he could leave, and whisked her hand over to block his exit. “What now?” he sighed, with a little too much attitude.

Nicole looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Don’t take that tone with me, little man. As long as you live with us, I can make you do those chores regardless of whether your stipend gets raised.”

“Sorry,” he replied, inhaling like he was going to sigh but letting it quietly pass through him so she wouldn’t notice.

“I was going to say, it might actually be a better idea for you to come to work with me on Friday. Then you can see what it’s like to work a real job. Not just mine, but some of what the tinies do too. It’s a lot more work than chores are, but you also get paid a lot more than a few bucks here and there.”

Mason pursed his lips, taking better heed this time to be more polite in declining her suggestion. “If that’s an invitation, then it’s okay. Thanks for suggesting it, but I don’t need the extra money that bad.” He started to walk around her palm, but she used her fingers to pinch the back of his shirt and lift him up towards her face.

She finished chewing another cursed bite of chicken before addressing her little rebellious boy. “I wasn’t actually asking, Mason. I want you to come with me on Friday, and I don’t wanna hear you complain about it anymore.” She poked him in the chest, fairly lightly, but still just enough that his dangling form swung back and forth a teeny bit from the push. “Got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” he sighed, and she lowered him back to her desk.

“Good. Now beat it.”