Chapter #4Very, Very, Very Slow Shrinking by: chaos   The nurse that drove you home opens your own front door for you which you haven’t been able to do since the second year of your still unnamed shrinking disease. Five long years since your diagnosis and you were still here, although you weren’t a tenth of the man you used to be. You shrunk quickly at first, losing inches every week until a year into your illness you stood at only three feet. As your on children started to tower over you it seemed like you wouldn’t make it through another year before you were nothing but a dust mite.
You started distancing yourself from everyone, not wanting them to see you as you shrunk away. Adam and Dora had been staying with your sister-in-law, you tried to visit them every week when you were first diagnosed, but your visits rapidly decreased until you only visited them on holidays. It was hard for you, but having your seven-year-old son be a head taller then you made it sink home that you didn’t want them seeing you like this. You wanted them to remember you as their father, not the incredible shrinking man.
When a month went by in your third year and you only lost an inch you knew something was changing. By this time, you had been practically living at the hospital, letting them poke and prod you as you counted down your remaining days. The doctors had no explanation other then the your shrinking was slowing down. You were still gradually shrinking away, but now it looked like you had years instead of months left. You didn’t know whether to consider it a miracle or not, you got more time, but you were going to spend it as a tiny man.
Years went by and you continued to shrink while Adam and Dora grew up away from you. Regret over neglecting your children started eating away at you. As children they wouldn’t be able to understand what was happening to him, but they were older now and could now register what was happening to him. Four years away from his kids had been too much so last year he had them return home with him where he would raise them until he was unable to.
Sadly, with Dora being sixteen and Adam being twelve they really didn’t need him as much anymore and the years apart had made him a stranger to them. Adam spend all his time in his room, almost never speaking to him while his sister was willing to talk to him, but she often treated him like a child and spoke down to him, not respecting him as her father. After a year of trying, he was now six inches tall and nowhere closer to getting his children’s love back. He was still going to try, he wanted his family back and would do anything to become a part of his children lives again.
Scurrying along the carpet, you make the long trek to Dora’s room hoping to have some quality father/daughter time. At her door you don’t bother knocking, your fists hitting against the wood wouldn’t reach your daughter’s ears. Dropping to your belly you pull yourself under the door and into your daughter’s room where you see looking over several sets of clothes placed on her bed.
Your sweet sunshine had changed in the last five years in so many ways it was hard to recognize the teenager in front of him and the girl he had raised for eleven years. Dora had dyed her blond hair pitch black and cut it to reach her shoulders. She only wore this black lipstick that made her pouty lips stick out on her face due to how pale she had become. She always wore these purple and black-stripped stockings with a pair of heavy boots. You haven’t seen her wear one outfit that wasn’t black or purple since she moved in last year. Your daughter was a goth, which you had no problem with other then the fact it made talking to her even harder. It’s hard enough understanding a young girl, but its even harder when she’s into this trend that you can’t wrap your head around.
“Dora! It’s me! Could you give me a lift, I want to talk!”
“Welcome home daddy, lose another inch and need me to readjust your clothes?” Dora’s been making your outfits since you shrunk out of the baby clothes. She was great with the needle and thread, able to make the most detailed clothes your ever seen for someone your size. Although you do wish she’d use something other then black for material. Wearing dark colours when you need people to see you so they don’t step on top of you isn’t that good.
“Still six inches. I was just hoping we might be able to talk about how you’re doing. You’ve been going out pretty late this week, is there something you need to tell me?” Its hard to be a parent, especially when you need your kids to lift you to high spots. Dora bends over to lift you up and you get to see how much she really has grown when her breasts nearly come spilling out of her low cut black shirt. In trying to be a cool dad that she can talk to you haven’t mentioned how her clothes are too revealing. Dora has a bra size in the range of double-D and flaunts her pasty breasts with tops that have necklines that nearly go to her bellybutton. She has a variety of skirts and pants, all much to tight for her wide waistline. You would never call your daughter fat, but she had a lot of junk in her trunk as the kids like to say. With her ass jiggling around, it was hard not to comment or stare. You’ve sometimes stared too long, much to your discomfort.
“No.” That’s all she says as she places you on her desk and goes back to picking out something to wear. Depressed that she still won’t talk to you, you grasp at something to talk about or get her to care. You’d gladly give up five of your inches right now just to see her smile at you.
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