At first, you didn't like it. Neither had Stacy. As she moved away her long black hair from her slender body, she told Michael no. That she wouldn't demean her own brother to slavedom. Michael changed her mind fast. He explained what other leaders did to non-slave shrinkee's. He only explained what they did to the normal ones. . not the bad ones before she changed her mind. It was sick and twisted, even the leaders tortured those who they had once been apart of. A slave's duties were to do whatever it was that the master required. Stacy initially asked for little. At half an inch tall, there wasn't a whole lot you could do anyway. But after awhile. . hanging with the leader types, her demands began to increase. A light back rub that lasted about 4 hours for you. A foot massage. So on and so forth. You were happy that you didn't have to live in fear and besides. . she was your sister. How bad could her demands get?
You really missed talking with her the most. Yeah, Stacy would tell you the local leader gossip from time to time. But as the days passed, she spoke with you less and less. You were slowly becoming nothing more than an item to her. A toy, or an item of prestige. Her demands were getting a little more risky too. She had you look through her teeth with a tiny flashlight to find anything that might make her look bad. It took a long time to and you almost fell in the back when she swallowed some spit and forgot you were still in there. One of the last things she told you, before she stopped talking to you all together was that there were rumors of a special leader group. One that didn't shrink back down when they grew old. Stacy said she would join that group. . .and take you with her forever. Once a slave stopped being a slave to the leader, they were not allowed to be a slave to someone else. That meant that time was the enemy.
Fear gripped you. You hoped that maybe. . .just maybe. . you were a leader too. That you would also grow at age 17. You could only hope.
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