**Chapter 11: Beneath Her Feet**

As Lizz sat on her plush couch, her black tights gleaming in the dim light of the room, Kieran was summoned to her feet. The soft fabric seemed to whisper an ominous warning, a reminder of the suffocating grip that had become his reality. He had been miniaturized for weeks now, and every day felt like an eternity. His mother, the former Prime Minister Lizz Truss, had reduced him to a tiny, insignificant creature, forced to serve her every whim. "Bring me my shoes, Kieran," she said, her voice firm and commanding. Kieran hesitated, his tiny body trembling with fear. He knew what was expected of him, but the thought of crawling across the floor, beneath his mother's feet, made his stomach churn. The cold, smooth surface of the floor seemed to stretch out before him like an endless expanse, and the looming presence of Lizz's feet made him feel small and vulnerable. But he had no choice. He scurried forward, his tiny legs pumping as he made his way across the floor. The soft carpet tickled his skin, and he felt a shiver run down his spine as he approached Lizz's feet. She was wearing her black tights, and they seemed to loom over him like a dark, suffocating cloud. As he reached her feet, Lizz lifted her legs, allowing Kieran to crawl beneath them. He felt the warmth of her skin, the gentle pressure of her weight on the floor. The air was thick with the scent of her perfume, and he felt dizzy with fear. "Careful, Kieran," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "I don't want you to get crushed." Kieran gritted his teeth, his anger and frustration boiling over. He was trapped, forced to serve his mother like a slave. But he knew that he had to be careful, that one misstep could mean disaster. He began to clean Lizz's shoes, his tiny hands scrubbing at the leather. The rough texture of the material seemed to scrape against his skin, and he felt a surge of resentment towards his mother. Why was she doing this to him? What had he done to deserve such treatment? As he worked, Lizz leaned back in her chair, her eyes watching him with a mixture of fascination and contempt. She was enjoying this, Kieran realized. She was enjoying his humiliation, his subservience. The thought made him angry, and he scrubbed at the shoes with renewed vigor. But Lizz just laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "You're so tiny, Kieran," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "You're so insignificant. But you're mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you that way." Kieran felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that he was trapped, that he had to find a way to escape before it was too late. But for now, he was at his mother's mercy, forced to serve her every whim. As he finished cleaning the shoes, Lizz stood up, her legs towering over him like giant pillars. Kieran felt a surge of fear, but he stood his ground, his tiny chest heaving with exertion. "Well done, Kieran," Lizz said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're a natural servant. Maybe I'll keep you miniaturized forever." Kieran's heart sank, and he felt a wave of despair wash over him. But he knew that he couldn't give up. He had to keep fighting, had to find a way to outsmart his mother and regain his normal size. As Lizz sat back down, her black tights gleaming in the light, Kieran steeled himself for the challenges ahead. He was trapped beneath her feet, but he was determined to rise above his circumstances. He would find a way to escape, to outsmart his mother and take back control of his life. The question was, would he succeed before it was too late? Or would Lizz's grip on him prove too strong to break? Only time would tell.