Earning Your Keep
Tiny Way to Die
chapter 7
by
copier
· original author:
pinklemons
You cleaned the house. You mowed the lawn. You did everything else that needed doing.
It was not an insubstantial amount of work.
It took you the better part of a week to get the house in order, a task made only more difficult by the fact that A) you were shrinking, slowly but noticeably, and B) your mother did nothing to make things easier. In fact, she stopped clearing up after herself entirely, leaving you to pick up and wash her clothes, do her dishes, and throw away her trash. Not for the first time, you thank whatever stars are behind the small mercies that are your absent father and sister.
But at long last, you had the house in reasonable order. You did not think even your mom would be able to complain, even if she could look down her nose at you now. Jenna was a fairly petite woman, but she reached 5’6” in heels (which she wore even in the house), and you? You had already lost a few inches when you went to the doctor. Now you were 4’10”—more than half a foot shorter than your mother, and officially a midget. If nothing else, at least your mother’s laziness meant she spent most of her time lounging about the house instead of standing up. Speaking of which…
“Well, well, all done are we?” Your mom did not even look at you, keeping her bored focus on the television screen in front of her. You stood at attention. Would she make fun of you for it? Probably, but you would rather take that chance then give her an excuse not to help you.
“Yes, Mom,” you answer.
Your mom’s gaze shifted to you for a moment, and sly smile broke across her face. Turning off the television, she languidly rose to her feet, stretching as she did so, and making it painfully obvious that you were now significantly shorter than she was. Her stretching pushed her impressive chest even further forward, her breasts straining against the material of her thin white t-shirt, ready to pop out right beside your face.
Despite yourself, you gulped.
Your mom burst out laughing. “Oh my God,” she snickered. “You really are obsessed with my tits, aren’t you?” She leaned forward, leering down at you, practically pushing her chest into your face. Your mother was a master of the tease however; her breasts stopped just before your eyes, not making contact. You could see nothing else, and your mother’s scent surrounded you: a mix of perfume and natural body odor that had you very glad all your pants were now baggy on your reduced frame.
Just as quickly as it began, the moment was over, your mother straightening herself back up, leaving you staring up at her with a raging hard on you could only hope she did not notice. Her smirk suggested otherwise.
“Guess I should take a look at what kind of job you did, shouldn’t I?” said your mom. She inclined her head towards the door. “Lead the way, little boy.”
Ignoring her commentary, you lead Jenna through the house, letting her see the fruits of your labor. You were under no illusions. Your mom had had plenty of time to watch you clean on her own. Her mind was no doubt already made up. This was just another method of keeping you sweating and under her thumb.
Finally, your impromptu tour of the house was finished. You turned to your mother. She wore the same smirk she had had since teasing you earlier. You stared at each other, each waiting for the other to break the silence first. Like every battle you had ever had with your mother, you lost.
“Well, what do you think?” you asked.
“Hmm, well…” Your mother brought a finger to her lips, feigning a thoughtful expression, while also squeezing her breasts together to accent her cleavage. “I think…”
It was not an insubstantial amount of work.
It took you the better part of a week to get the house in order, a task made only more difficult by the fact that A) you were shrinking, slowly but noticeably, and B) your mother did nothing to make things easier. In fact, she stopped clearing up after herself entirely, leaving you to pick up and wash her clothes, do her dishes, and throw away her trash. Not for the first time, you thank whatever stars are behind the small mercies that are your absent father and sister.
But at long last, you had the house in reasonable order. You did not think even your mom would be able to complain, even if she could look down her nose at you now. Jenna was a fairly petite woman, but she reached 5’6” in heels (which she wore even in the house), and you? You had already lost a few inches when you went to the doctor. Now you were 4’10”—more than half a foot shorter than your mother, and officially a midget. If nothing else, at least your mother’s laziness meant she spent most of her time lounging about the house instead of standing up. Speaking of which…
“Well, well, all done are we?” Your mom did not even look at you, keeping her bored focus on the television screen in front of her. You stood at attention. Would she make fun of you for it? Probably, but you would rather take that chance then give her an excuse not to help you.
“Yes, Mom,” you answer.
Your mom’s gaze shifted to you for a moment, and sly smile broke across her face. Turning off the television, she languidly rose to her feet, stretching as she did so, and making it painfully obvious that you were now significantly shorter than she was. Her stretching pushed her impressive chest even further forward, her breasts straining against the material of her thin white t-shirt, ready to pop out right beside your face.
Despite yourself, you gulped.
Your mom burst out laughing. “Oh my God,” she snickered. “You really are obsessed with my tits, aren’t you?” She leaned forward, leering down at you, practically pushing her chest into your face. Your mother was a master of the tease however; her breasts stopped just before your eyes, not making contact. You could see nothing else, and your mother’s scent surrounded you: a mix of perfume and natural body odor that had you very glad all your pants were now baggy on your reduced frame.
Just as quickly as it began, the moment was over, your mother straightening herself back up, leaving you staring up at her with a raging hard on you could only hope she did not notice. Her smirk suggested otherwise.
“Guess I should take a look at what kind of job you did, shouldn’t I?” said your mom. She inclined her head towards the door. “Lead the way, little boy.”
Ignoring her commentary, you lead Jenna through the house, letting her see the fruits of your labor. You were under no illusions. Your mom had had plenty of time to watch you clean on her own. Her mind was no doubt already made up. This was just another method of keeping you sweating and under her thumb.
Finally, your impromptu tour of the house was finished. You turned to your mother. She wore the same smirk she had had since teasing you earlier. You stared at each other, each waiting for the other to break the silence first. Like every battle you had ever had with your mother, you lost.
“Well, what do you think?” you asked.
“Hmm, well…” Your mother brought a finger to her lips, feigning a thoughtful expression, while also squeezing her breasts together to accent her cleavage. “I think…”
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June 1
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