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Description
"Is he worshiping me again?" she asked, not to anyone in particular. The shrunken man in her lap was the only other person around so, she figured, she must be asking him. She glanced down to see he was indeed bent over praying to.... her hand, maybe? Whatever. You shrink one white man and suddenly you're a corn goddess or something. She was just a girl, not some ancient Maya goddess. A girl who happened to be skilled at the ancestors' size alteration techniques. Being worshiped felt strange and awkward, like she was pretending to be something she wasn't.

She looked around, not wanting to look down anymore at that little guy who was bent over praying to her hand, the hand that could grab him and..... crush him, throw him into the field, toss him in the air and catch him for fun, whatever she wanted, really. Well, maybe the little guy had a point. Her hands were there making sure he didn't fall off her lap into the field below, to get lost in mud or something. He had no way of restoring his own size, so he was completely at her mercy right now. Worshiping her was probably his way of begging for that mercy. Isn't that what the ancestors used to do with their gods? All the temples and statues and bloodletting rituals were about using worship to ask for mercy, right? So she sort of was a goddess to him, in the simple sense that she had a huge amount of power and control over him right now.

It's enough to make your head spin.

The girl -- the impromptu "goddess", couldn't help but smile as she surveyed the cornfield around her. A goddess. Really? Hopefully the spirits of her ancestors, and the gods if they were real, would forgive her for that bit of vanity. They would probably agree that, after all her people have been through at the hands of white colonizers, she was entitled to a little ego trip for once.

She looked back down at him. Still praying to her hand, he didn't notice her mischievous grin. He was hers now right? Her worshiper. She lifted both hands to form a cage around him and channeled the flow of her koyopa' to constrict further. The white man between her hands shrank further, from hand-sized down to less than thumb-sized. He stood up and ran to her little finger, leaning against it to look out over her finger at the even-larger-to-him-now world beyond as though he were a prisoner in a cage. He turned around and looked up at her face (or maybe breasts, it was hard to tell) and raised his arms. A different prayer, probably. She thought she heard him say something, but his voice was tiny and, as he only seemed to speak English, she wouldn't have understood it anyway.

She grabbed her long braid of hair and lightly brushed him with the tip. He was knocked completely off his feet and fell flat on his face onto her skirt. The new goddess couldn't help but laugh at how easily he was batted around by something as simple as hair. As he tried to right himself she delicately fumbled with him until she had caught him in the tip of her braid. Carefully, she lifted him up to eye level to watch him squirm, hanging onto her hair for dear life. She giggled at the tiny, powerless little man in front of her. This was the most fun she could remember having since she was a kid.

Slowly she lowered the braid, with its struggling passenger, in front of her open, smiling mouth. She watched him gaze into it in horror. He was only about the size of one of her teeth, and probably thought she was about to eat him. She spoke gently to him in her native Maya language -- goddesses don't need foreign words. Besides, he probably didn't understand Spanish anyway. "Don't worry, my little worshiper. I won't be eating you. I'm not the kind of goddess that requires a sacrifice."

She would be keeping him; he was too much fun. She leaned forward, pulled her collar open with her other hand, tucked the end of her braid in, and tapped it with her finger until he fell off and tumbled down the inside of her shirt. Then she stood and started walking home. A worshiper who was this much fun she had to share with her girlfriends. They could all be his goddesses. Of course, she'd have to keep him carefully hidden or her sister and mother might be added to the pantheon. And she wasn't sure whether or not her mother would approve of her having a priesthood now.

The little guy was probably loving the view from inside there. Goddess problems, right?

Description
"Is he worshiping me again?" she asked, not to anyone in particular. The shrunken man in her lap was the only other person around so, she figured, she must be asking him. She glanced down to see he was indeed bent over praying to.... her hand, maybe? Whatever. You shrink one white man and suddenly you're a corn goddess or something. She was just a girl, not some ancient Maya goddess. A girl who happened to be skilled at the ancestors' size alteration techniques. Being worshiped felt strange and awkward, like she was pretending to be something she wasn't.

She looked around, not wanting to look down anymore at that little guy who was bent over praying to her hand, the hand that could grab him and..... crush him, throw him into the field, toss him in the air and catch him for fun, whatever she wanted, really. Well, maybe the little guy had a point. Her hands were there making sure he didn't fall off her lap into the field below, to get lost in mud or something. He had no way of restoring his own size, so he was completely at her mercy right now. Worshiping her was probably his way of begging for that mercy. Isn't that what the ancestors used to do with their gods? All the temples and statues and bloodletting rituals were about using worship to ask for mercy, right? So she sort of was a goddess to him, in the simple sense that she had a huge amount of power and control over him right now.

It's enough to make your head spin.

The girl -- the impromptu "goddess", couldn't help but smile as she surveyed the cornfield around her. A goddess. Really? Hopefully the spirits of her ancestors, and the gods if they were real, would forgive her for that bit of vanity. They would probably agree that, after all her people have been through at the hands of white colonizers, she was entitled to a little ego trip for once.

She looked back down at him. Still praying to her hand, he didn't notice her mischievous grin. He was hers now right? Her worshiper. She lifted both hands to form a cage around him and channeled the flow of her koyopa' to constrict further. The white man between her hands shrank further, from hand-sized down to less than thumb-sized. He stood up and ran to her little finger, leaning against it to look out over her finger at the even-larger-to-him-now world beyond as though he were a prisoner in a cage. He turned around and looked up at her face (or maybe breasts, it was hard to tell) and raised his arms. A different prayer, probably. She thought she heard him say something, but his voice was tiny and, as he only seemed to speak English, she wouldn't have understood it anyway.

She grabbed her long braid of hair and lightly brushed him with the tip. He was knocked completely off his feet and fell flat on his face onto her skirt. The new goddess couldn't help but laugh at how easily he was batted around by something as simple as hair. As he tried to right himself she delicately fumbled with him until she had caught him in the tip of her braid. Carefully, she lifted him up to eye level to watch him squirm, hanging onto her hair for dear life. She giggled at the tiny, powerless little man in front of her. This was the most fun she could remember having since she was a kid.

Slowly she lowered the braid, with its struggling passenger, in front of her open, smiling mouth. She watched him gaze into it in horror. He was only about the size of one of her teeth, and probably thought she was about to eat him. She spoke gently to him in her native Maya language -- goddesses don't need foreign words. Besides, he probably didn't understand Spanish anyway. "Don't worry, my little worshiper. I won't be eating you. I'm not the kind of goddess that requires a sacrifice."

She would be keeping him; he was too much fun. She leaned forward, pulled her collar open with her other hand, tucked the end of her braid in, and tapped it with her finger until he fell off and tumbled down the inside of her shirt. Then she stood and started walking home. A worshiper who was this much fun she had to share with her girlfriends. They could all be his goddesses. Of course, she'd have to keep him carefully hidden or her sister and mother might be added to the pantheon. And she wasn't sure whether or not her mother would approve of her having a priesthood now.

The little guy was probably loving the view from inside there. Goddess problems, right?