Guys, this story is about the fetish of macrophilia, a taste for interaction with giant-sized people. It's a very specific fetish and it's not for everyone, but some of you may discover a new world. Please let me know if there are people interested in this kind of fetish, so I can post more stories about it or not.
The story is a new twist on the dystopian world of my stories Betrayed and Enslaved and My Life as My Father's Slave (although curiously this current story preceded those two). It is not necessary, however, to have read them to understand this one. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to send me any comments, questions or criticisms, please.
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The world was totally changed. After the pandemic and after the economic disaster, my country had become a dictatorship and civil rights had been drastically reduced. The worst part, however, had been borne by gay men. While lesbians were tolerated, gays had been considered "enemies of the state" and fierce persecution had begun. At first they were simply arrested and taken to prison, but then a further step was taken: they were stripped of all their rights as individuals and it became commonplace for them to be declared slaves and become the mere property of someone, usually the person who had denounced them.
Some years passed in this way. However, even in such a degraded society, many "owners" of gays found it difficult to see them as completely dehumanized, and this caused problems, until the state came up with a solution. Scientists had developed a technology that allowed people to be reduced in size, and so it was decreed that all homosexuals should be reduced to the size of a toy and given to their owners, who would find it much easier to consider them a simple possession, like those who own a doll or a pet. Most of the gays thus reduced used to end their days squashed between the unconscious fingers of a child, eaten by dogs or cats, or simply crushed under the feet of their owners, when they got tired of having them.
That night I was at home terrified. Until then I had more or less managed to keep my homosexuality a secret, but, in the last few weeks, a couple of reckless dates had put me in the police's crosshairs. They had been asking questions about me at work and I was sure the circle was closing. I was gripped by the thought that in a matter of days or even hours I could be in custody, reduced to a minuscule size and handed over to a stranger to do with me as they pleased.
In my frantic thinking I didn't know where to turn. My parents had died in a car accident a few months ago and I had no more family or really any friends. My thoughts flew to my godfather, Neal, a good friend of my father. I remembered him as a very affable man, who had always treated me very well when I was a child. It is true that we had lost most of our relationship for many years, however, I had seen him recently at my parents' funeral and had felt him very concerned about me and as close as I remembered him. In fact, he had left me his phone number to come to him when I needed him.
I wasn't very convinced, but I saw no other option, so I called him and asked to come visit him that very afternoon, to which he readily agreed. So, a few hours later, I found myself knocking on the door of my godfather's house, who lived in a villa on the outskirts of the city. Neal opened the door immediately and embraced me warmly.
-Hello, Peter, how nice to hear from you! How are you?
My godfather was a big, burly man with a black beard with silver trim, a textbook bear. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a T-shirt that showed his incipient belly, although he kept in shape and conveyed an unmistakable sense of strength and confidence. He invited me to sit down and offered me something to drink. He immediately realized, from my expression, that something was wrong and asked me worriedly:
-Son, is everything all right?
-I'm sorry I came to you, but I didn't know who else to go to.
-Tell me, what's wrong?
I swallowed saliva, my heart was beating a thousand per hour, but after a long pause I managed to say:
-Neal, I have something to confess to you. I... I... I... I'm a homosexual.
