[LK]

She had no idea when it started.

One day, her shoes didn't fit. On her way to work, putting on her shirt, pants, and other intimate articles of clothing, she felt her sneakers slipping uncomfortably on her long, slim feet. Initially, she did not pay much mind to it. Who would? It was noticeable, but not anything that would raise alarm.

It was several days later when her toes felt particularly roomy within the front of her sneakers that she began to wonder if something was happening to her. She had spent her entire adult life at 170cm in height. It may have been one or two centimeters different either way, what with the compression of the spine during the day and any other particulars that might affect an accurate measurement of an organic being. But when she measured herself, she found herself three centimeters shorter than what she claimed on her driver's license.

"Okay," she thought. "Nothing to be alarmed about."

A week later, she had reason to be alarmed.

The cuffs of her blouse were kissing her thumbs passionately. So too were the ends of her pant legs hugging the tops of her feet. Nothing on her person was set up as she had carefully established with being a fashionable individual. Everything was out of proportion.

Why? Why was this happening?

She went to work as normal. Nobody would notice, right? Least of all her, as she initially did despite how she felt about herself. She was right. Who would give notice to such a small change. But, to Avery, a small change was a traumatic event.

Another week, another inch. It was unmistakable at this point. Her form was smaller than before.

She had long term goals. She wanted to earn a degree. She, perhaps, wanted to have a family if she meant the right man. But in this moment, with the facts in front of her, she realized that far more pressing concerns were presenting itself.

5'6". Above average. Nothing unusual. But she was 5'8". Tall, for a woman in America. But that was no longer the case. Now, she needed heels to stand out. Now, she did not stand out, impossible as it was.

Another week. Another paycheck. Another inch. Now, she was dreadfully concerned. Everything was bigger, as minute as it seemed to such a small change. It was enough to make her concerned beyond any human individual has experienced. Of all the traumatic experiences someone could go through, how would you rank SHRINKING? The thought left her questioning her own perception of reality.

She went with friends to the club. She got drunk. She needed some semblance of comfort. It came to her, what with how beautiful and now how more petite she appeared to potential suitors. The sex was amazing. The condom was a relief. The one-night stand was a relief.

One month now. 5'4". Everything was loose. On the one hand, it was comforting to be dressed in such loose clothes. She was never a fashionista. She was alright with a t-shirt and jeans. The occasional leggings to encite worked out. But it was another where everything needed a belt, a pin, or another accessory to fit. If looking loose was intentional, then there was no problem. But losing four inches was not intentional. It was impossible.

The doctor treated her like she was always this height. After that moment, she checked her license, if only to have evidence that something had changed. But nothing had changed according to the only evidnece she possessed. She felt unstable. As far as she knew, she was unstable. Unstable and contracting.

She went to the mall and bought a pair of platforms. Small comfort for a smaller woman.

She kept up her routine. Work, home, socializing. She was single and unattached. She wasn't ugly, and her height had gotten her more than a few hook-ups. But now it was getting scarier. Not harder. If she had allowed herself, men would fall over her. But now that she lacked the means to assert herself (so dependent on her size), she was remiss to take potential companions on satisfying her needs as she satisfied their needs.

Three months had passed. She stayed at home. Her wardrobe was a painful reminder. Some days, she would walk into her closet. She would try on the her shoes. Heels extending far past hers, spacious toes that spoke to how her toes weren't up to the task. The flats mocked her. The platforms she bought were a better match than anything she ever had. She never felt nostalgic for anything at her young age, but the perspective she became familiar with were now a distant memory.

Five feet nothing. How? How could this be possible? She wanted to forget. A man was there to help her. The sex was amazing. She never had someone that BIG. It wasn't just the penis, however. This one knew what he was doing. He even had a condom. She should have been wary with someone with that experience and who was that prepared, but she let him fuck the shit out of her and give her a reason to appreciate her new stature.

No one at her new job paid any mind to how much shorter... smaller she was. Her jeans bunched up upon her platform shoes. The apron was several sizes too large for herself. She could perform the barista job just as well as she always did, but everything had a hint of intimidation about it from its increased size. How could anyone understand what such a substantial increase would mean to a human being? She knew, and on one else.

Gone was the five. Hello to the four. She was the shortest woman she knew amongst adult women. Her new platforms gave an illusion, but nothing else. The whole experience of ignorance from everyone in her life was surreal. She kept to her routine, despite how her friends, her doctor, and anyone else in her life who knew who she was had nothing to say about the fact that she had lost nearly a foot in height.

Her girlfriends towered over her. No heel could help her. A Friday night gave her another companion to share the night with. He was gentle until she told him to be rough. At that point, she was in bliss. Unless she got a basketball player, she would never experience what she felt that night. She passed out before he did. He was nice enough to not take advantage of that.

She was a freak. But no one knew. She had no idea to explain it or find a reason. All she could determine was that she could still support herself... but how long would this pattern continue? In another month, at this pace, she would be staring at the crotch of a nightly companion rather than their pecs.

She felt powerless. But she could buy new clothes. Baggy pants, platforms, and oversized blouses would not have to be her reality. Thank goodness for Goodwill!