[Original author: gemini, adrift from Writing.com]

"A good man is harder and harder to find." That was the title of Adele's article.

She already basically knew what her article was about, the bones were all there: increasingly, men didn't want women for a relationship, they wanted ownership of them. Which, really, was nothing new. Ask any woman at any point in history, and she no doubt could give you several examples of how difficult it was to find a man who could engage her as a whole person, rather than a reduced object of his desire. Now, at a time when men literally could reduce women into objects helpless against that desire, it felt like women no longer stood a chance.

Adele knew what she was going to write, but she needed to find the meat for the bones she had. She needed interviews. Experiences. Juicy meat. Which probably meant - and the thought still made her gulp nervously - shrinking. She had never been tiny before, and had been extremely careful during the onset of the shrinking virus. Now, with the rampant use of shrinking tech on the rise, it only felt like a matter of time. Either the virus would get her, or some brute would. And that was the awful calculus most women were faced with. She couldn't blame women who threw their tiny selves at the giant feet of the best man they could find, hoping for mercy.

Adele found herself wondering who that might be for her. It was at that moment that her friend snapped her out of her reverie by asking, "You want anything? I'm going to get some more coffee."

"Oh. Nah, thanks," Adele smiled.

Leo smiled back and then stood up. How about him, she found herself wondering. She had met Leo when she first came to college, and they knew each other for years. When they were first starting to get to know each other, he made a pass at her, and she gently shut him down. That was before all this shrinking chaos was in full swing; she was thankful that he was the kind of guy who could hear no from a woman and not have a psychotic breakdown. Should she shrink herself and offer herself to Leo? She wrinkled her nose at the thought. He was so chill and caring. She couldn't imagine him the way men those days seemed to want to be seen: as hulking, all-powerful giants, walking all over the world of women and ruling them like gods. She was also thankful that Leo wasn't trending toward becoming a misogynist monster after the reality of shrinking, like a lot of guys. He was her best friend.

Adele's plan was to focus on dating apps, talk to men, maybe meet some. In the aftermath of the shrinking virus, and the shrinking technology it inspired, dating sites were changing. They became more focused on men and what they want, and women no longer had the advantage. Men were more concerned with how obedient women were, or how fun it might be to teach them that obedience, than how hot they are or how much social clout they had. A woman's appearance was judged more for how her curves or lack thereof might feel underfoot, rather than how she would function as arm candy or a hot fuck. That was another big change: fucking a woman wasn't all that different from masturbation, as women became more like sextoys.

Adele shook her head and blew out through her nose, attempting to clear her head. Leo sat down across from her with his new coffee. "You make a profile yet," Leo asked.

"No," Adele admitted. That's why she asked Leo to hang out with her while she worked, so that he could help her make a profile on some dating apps. Who better to help her sell herself than her best friend? Hm, not sell herself... That wasn't the word that she wanted to use, but a better word didn't come to mind, either. Present herself? No matter how she looked at it, she felt like she was offering herself up on a slave auction.

"You know, you could just make a basic profile and lurk, for now," Leo offered. "Maybe if you see a profile you like, you'll get inspired to make your own."

Adele rolled her eyes. "Please, you think I'll see a profile I like? On these kinds of sites?"

Leo smiled and sipped his coffee. "I suppose not, being a literal blue-haired feminist."

"Blue and green," Adele corrected him, and they both laughed. It wasn't lost on Adele that she was exactly what men abhorred: a liberated woman. Her feminist way of presenting herself predated the shrinking epidemic, but the ire her appearance inspired only increased post-shrinking.

Adele closed her laptop and sighed. "You're probably right. I'm done with this for now. Want to hang out, for a bit?"

"Sure," Leo replied.

Later that night, Adele did exactly what Leo suggested: she made a mostly empty profile and lurked. She immediately cringed as she swiped through profile after profile. Man after man wanted to be worshiped, or shrink a woman to be his plaything, or posted a dozen narcissistic paragraphs that she didn't care to read.

Finally she came across a profile that made her stop: the first attractive man she had seen. He didn't have abusive master energy, though apparently he was into domination. As she read about him, she found that he was something like an indie pornographer; he was looking for women who were willing to be miniaturized and star in his videos. He even paid his models. She followed a link he posted to see his work: it was pretty basic stuff, mostly tiny women kissing and licking his feet, or being trampled by him, sometimes lightly, sometimes not. She watched all the animated gifs of his feet dominating tiny female shapes with a certain amount of fascination. Adele saved his profile; he could be someone sane to talk to about her article, and to get some experience with.

Adele moved on, and after another dozen profiles she stopped at another one: a man who only posted pictures of his feet at different angles, typically angles that made them look huge. Apparently his justification was that his feet were all a woman needed to know of him, because she would spend all of her time beneath them. At least he had cute feet, Adele idly mused, which was a new thought for her. She never really paid attention to men's feet much, but in this new age, apparently men wanted her to. Adele wondered about someone who would present such as extreme portrait of himself. He could be an interesting person to interview, and since he didn't seem to want something like a relationship, maybe he was someone that she could get some experience with, and then part ways.

Adele kept browsing, and was starting to get tired as she did so. The search was reinforcing her feeling that she wasn't missing much by not dating lately. The last few boyfriends she had weren't too different than these guys, but at least they couldn't shrink her. She shuddered at the thought. Just when she was about to stop browsing for the evening, she was served an ad: a call for a whole lot of women to serve as tiny servant girls at some kind of party, with a message to contact the host if interested. The ad promised that she would be surrounded by tons of "giant hot guys," as if that mattered, and that she would be paid at the end of the night. Adele tapped her finger to her lips. A party could be a good way to get some of the experience that she needed without having to go too deep into the experience, and maybe she could interview some giant guys while she was at it. Hell, she might be able to get all the material she needed in one night and put this article - and this stupid shrinking business - behind her.

Adele thought that messaging someone might be a good idea...