You know this look. This is the look that says you should
have shut your mouth three bad jokes ago. You open your mouth to apologize, but
Susie cuts you off.
“No, enough! We’re not shopping for new pointy hats, we’re
not going to the mall by broomstick. I just wanted to have a chill day. Maybe
hit the arcade, maybe even find something cute you’d like to see me in.”
Susie was a witch. She didn’t own a cauldron, and her
childhood cat had been an orange tabby. She did dress in all black, but that
was simple fashion sense. What she did have was an innate ability for
spellcasting, a knack for transformation magic in particular, and a short
temper for jokes. Something you really should have learned to stop testing sooner.
You try to apologize again, but she waves a finger and the
words that should be leaving your mouth evaporate into silent air.
“You have no idea how tired I am of witch jokes. Actually,
you do. Because I’ve told you. Thirteen times. So today you’re gonna be quiet,
and useful, and really let it sink in, hm?” She smiles and waves her finger
again and you feel your body…condensing, seems like the best word. In the span
of a second, you drop from three inches taller than her to three inches flat
and perfectly proportionate. She scoops you up, holding you with some care
despite her irritation. Her black-painted lips curl into a grin. “Now let’s go
to the mall.”
She carries you out the front door, but instead of veering
left toward her car, she walks down the driveway and stops by the sidewalk.
Then she tosses you into the air. Unable to scream, you toss and turn, but
before you can hit the ground, you feel your body growing again, contorting and
twisting into unfamiliar shapes. When you make contact with the curb, it’s not
headfirst as a soon-to-be splattered tiny person, it’s wheels-first as a
full-size, shiny black bicycle. With a black basket, to boot.
You stare up at Susie, confused as she looms over you at an
odd angle and inspects your form, stroking her chin, then finally smiling with
a nod. “Not bad, not bad at all. And it looks like your face wound up right where
it belongs.”
Unable to turn your head or make heads or tails of your
position, it takes her swinging her leg over you to realize just what’s
happened. She plants her foot on the opposite pedal, and you feel the treads of
her boots pressing into the rigid, mis-matched form of your pedal. Then her
short, black skirt falls around you, blocking out the light, and your view is
consumed by two plump, round ass cheeks chewing up her cute, spider-web print
panties. Your face is the seat of her bike.
Susie leans over her shoulder and smirks. “It’s a long ride
to the mall, but you know, I’ve been meaning to get more exercise. Let’s see
how you do.”
Without another word or a moment’s pause, she lowers
herself, driving your face into her warm, already slightly damp crack.
Unbeknownst to you, she’d focused on a slight customization to your form,
opting for a seat shape with a lifted ridge up the middle to really drive you
in while still providing her a comfortable cushion just below it. The results
exceeded even her hopes. As she shifts to get comfortable, smearing your
faux-leathery face into her thankfully well-padded rear, you could swear you
hear her purr. You have to admit, it’s sort of pleasant.
That is, until she lifts her other foot to start moving and
her full weight settles onto you. If you thought you were being smothered
before, the way her cheeks grind down on you, quickly slick skin sliding
slightly up one side and down the other, then back, was an entirely different
experience.
Each pedaling motion works you a little deeper. And as your
face is driven into ass, your pedals (hands, maybe? No comparison really lines
up with a bike.) groan under the thick soles of boots that weren’t made for
this. Either to compensate for the awkward footwear or just because she was out
of practice, Susie pedals hard. Your pedals shouldn’t be in danger of breaking,
but at the base of each rotation just before the force lessens, it sure doesn’t
feel like it.
Eventually, Susie settles into a good pace and her strides
mostly even out. That doesn’t make things any easier for you, but it at least
means a consistent rhythm to the battering her buns and boots bestow on you.
Caught up in Susie, lungless, you’re physically unable to breathe, but somehow
the scent of her permeates your body, and you can feel her sweat seeping into
you, soaking your seat-face in her subtle stench.
Susie, either indifferent or potentially unaware of your
plight, carries on as if you were the least interesting bike in the world, save
for the pleasant sensation riding high along her way. The mall is two miles
away from her place. Mostly a flat straight line. Not an unbearable bike ride,
but definitely more of a workout than she was used to, and by the halfway
point, she’s worked up a significant sweat. At least, she thinks, you’re
learning a valuable lesson down there.
When she finally turns into the mall parking lot, she rides
you up to a patch of bushes reasonably far away from any of the entrances and finally
lifts her leg, freeing your face from the prison of her posterior.
Mentally, you gasp for air and try to blink the sweat out of
your eyes, but your seat remains immobile, unchanged and and unreacting. Just a
bike seat. You watch Susie tug at the front of her shirt, fanning herself.
She’s absolutely dripping with sweat. This may have taken as much out of her as
it did out of you.
“Phew…some workout, huh?” She looks down at you and smirks.
“Worked up a nice sweat, didn’t we? Luckily, there’s a fix for that.” She waves
her finger toward her head, then slowly moves its tip toward her toes. As it
moves, the sweat vanishes from her body, leaving behind perfect makeup,
pristine hair, and a fresh-cleaned outfit.
You, on the other hand, are still a sweaty bikeseat. She
looks down at you and taps her finger. “What to do with you now? Hm…oh, I
know!”
She points at you and you feel your body starting to shrink
again, uncurling. Her sweat evaporates out of you with a truly bizarre
sensation like your pores leaking upward all at once. Suddenly you’re a tiny
human again, resting on the sidewalk. Susie scoops you up, but she isn’t done.
She points one more time and you feel yourself compressing even further, but…somehow
differently this time. You certainly aren’t growing. In fact, you feel
practically flat. When the spell starts to wear off, you’re certain you’ve got
no bones at all.
Susie lifts you toward her face, giving you a sniff. “Mm, my
favorite flavor, too. You know how I love gum, darling.”
All the clues click in your mind. You’ve been reduced to a
single stick of gum. Susie was a gum fiend. She could chew for hours, but more
worrying than that, she craved the flavor. As soon as a piece was out of juice,
she’d pop a new one in her mouth, or if she’d already added too many fresh
sticks, she’d deposit the lightly chewed wad wherever there was a convenient
surface and start fresh.
You’re trying to decide which is worse when Susie’s lips
spread open and you’re unceremoniously inserted into her mouth. A string of
drool connecting her top and bottom teeth glues itself to you, then you plop
down onto her tongue and you’re instantly drenched as she savors your flavor.
But that doesn’t last long before the powerful muscle slips you between her
molars and she goes to town.
Susie chews you like any other stick of gum. She does you no
favors, grinding any rigidity you have into paste in seconds as she makes for
the mall entrance with a spring in her step. From the moment her lips seal you
in, your entire world becomes a whirlwind of chaos and mastication. You’re
repeatedly ground up by the force of her jaw, intensely aware of every
sensation, though thankfully unable to feel pain. You can sense that you’re
being put through the ringer, and any semblance of a consistent form is a
distant memory. The whole experience is extremely disorienting.
The only reprieve you have is when she occasionally stops
chewing to flatten you between her tongue and the roof of her mouth or to tuck
you into her cheek, wedged between the soft wall and the stiff structure of her
gums. These moments only last for a few seconds at any given time, but you
quickly come to cherish them.
With no external stimuli to help you gauge it and nothing
but the constant sensation of being chewed to occupy your mind, time starts to
lose meaning and slow to a crawl. Even counting the seconds under pressure
requires a concerted effort. It’s like your brain is being stretched apart,
then snapped back together different each time her molars roll over you and her
tongue folds your lumps back in on you.
Eventually, light floods the void, and you roll forward over
the surface of her tongue. An unfamiliar, dry surface brushes against you, then
another opposite it.
Susie pinches you between her fingers and pulls you out of
her mouth. It takes you a moment to reconceive reality as her enormous face
looms before you, expression somewhere between disinterested and disappointed.
“Five minutes in and you’ve already lost your flavor. Bummer.”
Did she say five minutes? It’s only been five minutes. It
felt like…god, an eternity, or realistically, hours at least. But wait, then
what now?
Susie glances around to confirm there’s no one watching. The
mall was pretty dead, and she was sitting on a bench in a relatively empty
wing. Content, she points her finger at you and feel your form start to change
again, grateful that this experiment is over and you won’t end up plastered to
the underside of the bench underneath her.
But your form doesn’t change. Not significantly. The feeling
you had turning into and back from her bike, first turning into her gum,
doesn’t wash over you. All you feel is something like your spine being rebuilt
from the base up. You’re solid again, at least. Wait, but then-
Susie pops the brand new stick of gum into her mouth,
returning you to the hell you’ve only briefly escaped, filling it anew with a
soft “mmm.” A few more chews, then, “I like this. That new gum flavor as many
times as I want. I think we’re gonna do this for a while.”
That’s the last thing she says to you before she carries on
her way. Another eternity of chewing, losing your mind inside her mouth. The
next time the light shines in on you, she doesn’t bother pulling you out.
Instead, she just points and you reform brand new sitting on her tongue. No
rest, no break. Just reincarnation after reincarnation as a berry-flavored bad
habit.
At one point, she speaks. You’re having a hard time piecing
together exactly what she’s saying, but it sounds like she’s in the food court?
She’s…ordering something. Food? God, finally. If she stops to eat, she’ll have
to take you out.
But you weren’t so lucky. Susie’s appetite was plenty sated.
She just wanted a drink. Rather than freeing you, she introduces a new aspect
into your experience. You have time to register the straw as her lips wrap
around it, and then an ice-cold tidal wave of cola washes over you, sending you
knocking around between her teeth, pinballing this way and that, then coming to
rest on her tongue as she swallows. You’re drenched, cold, and sticky. And
unfortunately for you, that’s all the flavor restoration Susie needs for now.
Gnashed around in her maw, then drenched in a sugary soft
drink tsunami, helpless as its tide drags you toward the back of her throat on
more than one occasion. She never swallows you, but that doesn’t make it any
less terrifying each time.
You think about that old wive’s tale about swallowing gum
and it sitting in your stomach for years. You’re pretty sure that isn’t true,
but the alternative, digestion, doesn’t sound any better for you. Filled with
thoughts of stomach acid, you try to stop thinking about anything at all.
Hours pass and Susie gets bored and decides to drive home,
before remembering in her infinite wisdom that she used you to get here. She
really isn’t feeling up to another bike ride even if it meant giving you
another session smushed up her butt, so instead she bites the bullet and calls
a ride on her phone.
By this point, you’re tucked in her cheek. She’s tired of
chewing you, but her hands are full of bags and she doesn’t feel like coming up
with something new for you to be, but she doesn’t think you’ve learned your
lesson. This iss the closest thing to relaxing you’ve been able to do for
hours, and you gladly take the opportunity as she rides home.
When she gets there, Susie tromps inside, drops the bags
haphazardly, and lazily pulls you out of her mouth. With a tired wave of her
finger, you finally feel your body start to tingle, real structure returning to
your insides as your skeleton returns, and once again you confirm you’re a
tiny, slightly damp human in her hand. You want to shout at her, you want to
beg for mercy, but in this moment, all you can do is breathe heavily and be grateful
you can breathe at all.
Susie looks exhausted. You’re almost annoyed at the gall of
her to look more tired than you are after the day you’ve had. Despite that, she
speaks up. “What a day. I’m beat. I think it might be time for a nap…that
doesn’t mean you’re off the hook yet, though.”
Before you’ve even had time to get comfortable in your body,
you feel yourself changing again, expanding, but getting lighter. The bones you
so cherished are gone again just like that, and any structure you have is now
contained around your outer edges.
Susie holds you up, a bat-shaped throw pillow with a cute
little face, filled to bursting with stuffing. She smiles. “This is the cutest
you’ve ever been. Where did I see this…eh, probably online somewhere.”
Leaving her bags by the door, she moves further into the
house, tossing you toward the couch. You land in the corner, leaned perfectly
against the arm, watching her through your little bat eyes as she smirks. “I’ll
give you a break and save you joining me in the bathroom, because I’m nice.
Thank me later…”
And with that, you’re left alone, nothing but a pillow on
her couch. You want to be mad, but honestly, you’re still reeling from the day,
and any moment of rest, as unfamiliar and bizarre as it is, is something you’ll
gladly take. But it doesn’t last long.
The front door swings open just a minute after Susie
disappears from view, and in walks her roommate Beth. Beth shares Susie’s love
for all things black. She was dressed in a very similar get-up to what Susie
was wearing. She also had six inches on Susie, and a notably thicker figure. Which
ordinarily you’d appreciate. Beth was gorgeous. She’d drunkenly flirted with
you on more than one occasion, and if you hadn’t been dating Susie, you might
have pursued that later, with clearer heads.
But as she teeters into the room and peels off her black
sunglasses to reveal eyes that say, “bottomless mimosas were a choice,” and
locks them on you, your position as an adorable, over-stuffed pillow on her
couch gives you second thoughts.
She pries off her boots with remarkable ease, then moves
toward you with something between determination and resign, letting out a long,
low sigh. She never takes her eyes off you. She comes to a stop in front of the
couch, and you stare up at her. From this angle, she absolutely towers over
you, and the soft smile that appears on her face does not inspire confidence.
She says one word. “Cute…”
Then all in one motion, she half leans into, half tumbles
onto the couch, and her face slams into your cushiony body. You brace for
impact as much as your motionless body can, but despite her head being half
your size and coming in hot, she lands with a delicate plop, neither of you
worse for wear.
The weight of her sinks into your body, compressing you
underneath her. The scents of her hairspray, her makeup, her lotion, and the
lingering cocktails on her breath hit you all at once as she sighs again, this
time audibly less irritated as she settles into the couch. She nuzzles her cheek
against you, and you feel particles of sun-worn makeup smearing ever so
slightly into you. Her whole body shifts as he adjusts herself on the couch,
grinding you back and forth as she does.
When she finally gets comfortable, she’s managed to twist
your body, turning you nearly ninety degrees and snuggling your right wing
under her, curving around her neck and brushing against something just a touch
lower. More prominent though is her face, looming directly above yours. Her
gargantuan mouth gapes open as she lets out a yawn, hot breath washing over you
and giving you a taste of what’s to come as she mumbles. “Just take a…quick
nap…”
Moments later, she’s out cold. It would almost be
impressive, if it didn’t mean she was snoring directly into your face. And with
her mouth hanging wide open, there’s nothing you can do but watch as a bead of saliva
starts to amass at the corner of her lips, growing larger and larger until it
starts to slip down her cheek, racing toward its final destination: you.
The drool lands square in the little red indent that is your
“mouth.” Thankfully that’s just as much “for show” as every other part of you,
but that doesn’t stop the sticky, warm liquid from soaking into you, a creepy,
oozing sensation you are all too aware of.
It feels like she’s been coating you for an hour when Susie
finally comes back. Mentally, you cry out for help, but the cartoonish bat face
of the pillow remains unmoved as your girlfriend surveys the situation. Then
she smiles. Under her breath, she says “You know…this is better than what I had
planned. Have fun, little bat~”
She blows you a kiss and smirks as she walks out of the
room. A few minutes later, she returns with a blanket, quietly unfolding it and
draping it over her unconscious roommate. She stops to admire your smothered
form, then walks away again.
Susie didn’t speak to you again that day. However she winds
up spending the rest of her day, it doesn’t involve you. After a while, she stops
even turning her head to look when she passes through the living room.
Beth, for her part, is conked out for the better part of the
evening. Mercifully, her mouth dries out eventually and the flow of drool stops,
but that still leaves you slightly crusty and plastered to her face for hours. She
shifts in her sleep on occasion, but any movement away from you is always
followed by her sleepily burrowing back in.
It’s well past dark when Beth groggily starts to stir. You
haven’t seen Susie for hours, and you’re starting to get worried about when she’ll
finally come change you back. As far as you’re concerned, you’ve learned your
lesson ten times over. Legitimately. You’ll never tell another witch joke in
your life. Or any joke, for that matter.
Fate, so much as there is such a thing, does not agree with
your assessment. When Beth sits up, blanket draped over her shoulders, her hand
snakes around you, pulling you in and clutching you against her belly. Having
slept the day away, you assume she must have something else planned for the
night. And that plan apparently involves you.
Beth stands up, wobbling slightly, and heads to the kitchen.
She pours a glass of water, downs it in one go, then pours another, all with
one hand, maintaining her vice grip on your body.
All the while, her forearm digs into your back. Each time
she takes a step or shifts slightly, she smears your face into her stomach. You
have nowhere to go and nothing to do but soak in the sensation of her skin
sinking to embrace you and wait for her to finish and move on to her
destination.
Eventually, thirst sated, she stomps toward the stairs with
you in tow. Slowly, deliberately, she pulls herself up one by one. She’s not
(very) drunk anymore, but her nap was the sort of restless sleep that makes you
want to go straight back for seconds. And that was exactly her plan.
Beth gingerly opens the door to her room, some small part of
her wanting to be considerate to her roomie, and tosses the cozy little bat
onto her bed. You spin through the air, landing upside down and lopsided
against a lazily assembled wad of pillows and stuffed animals. Unable to move,
you take in the view before you. The messy floor, half-open drawers with
various black shirts, socks and underthings hanging over the lips. And
something that makes your blood run cold. A bat-shaped pillow tossed
haphazardly onto a pile of dirty laundry. Its motionless face stares back at
you, and somehow you recognize this nocturnal plush as your exact duplicate. This
must have been where Susie got the idea.
In the corner of your vision, Beth sways into view, makeup
scrubbed from her face hastily, but mostly effectively. She pulls the back dress
over her head and tosses it out of sight, then wastes no time unlatching her
bra and slinging it along the same path. It’s enthralling, despite the casual
nature of the display. You feel a little bad, but you physically can’t stop
yourself staring, you have no eyelids. Not to mention, you can’t help but think
about what comes next for you as she works her thong down her thighs and sends
it soaring into the same pile, then comes for you.
Exhausted and, as far she knows, alone, Beth crawls into
bed, snatching up the little bat and cradling it close as she tugs the
comforter up and seals you in with her. You settle against her, one wing
cradling her neck, your body and face buried between her breasts, where an
entire afternoon nap’s sweat has been brewing and stewing and eagerly shares with
you. Your other wing is half-flattened under her belly. Her arms wrap around
you, pulling you in tight, and she nuzzles your wing one more time and slowly
drifts off to sleep.
For Beth, the night is peaceful from this point on and she
sleeps soundly until morning. For you, it’s a maelstrom of constantly shifting
compression as she snuggles deeper, occasionally dragging you up and down in
her sleep. As the night goes on, she slowly rolls onto her stomach, flattening
your entire body underneath her. You lay there for hours, unable to sleep, baking
underneath her, soaking up her sweat with no barrier of clothing to save you
and nothing to break up the unending darkness but the sound of her snoring and her
shifting weight as she fidgets.
Some time after daybreak, in a fit of unaware mercy, she
finally rolls back onto her side far enough to let one of your eyes peek out
from beneath her boob. The blanket is pulled aside, but you’re still
practically entombed under her. That’s when you hear the bedroom door creak
open. A beam of light creeps into the room, and just on the edge of your
vision, you see Susie.
“God, I don’t know how she sleeps so hard. Where the hell
did she put it?” she mumbles quietly. You try to scream, but as has been the
case all day and all night, your thoughts are entirely your own. Helpless, you
watch her trudge through the room, eyes turning this way and that, falling on
you for half a second before drifting away. “Oh, there you are…”
Your now-metaphorical blood runs cold as she leans down and
picks up the other bat from the floor, waving a finger at it. It expands in her
arms, surface shifting and growing until it outgrows her grip and before her
stands a mirror image of you dressed in yesterday’s clothes, looking wide-eyed
and confused.
Susie seems unphased. Obviously you’d be stunned after the night
you’d had. She asks, “Have you learned your lesson now?”
The clone you thinks hard for a moment, then croaks out
“…yes?”
“Good. Then come make it up to me.” She grabs the collar of
the stuffing-brained clone’s shirt and tugs it out of the room in a gesture that’s
always driven you crazy in the best way.
You cry out for dear life as your fluff-brained doppelganger
meekly follows her out of the room and the door swings shut on any chance of
you changing back. Beth, still unconscious, pulls you in tight, nuzzling your
new, permanent form and welcoming you to your new life. She smacks her lips and
starts to drool.
#
Susie was surprised how well a day of various
transformational torture had worked. You never made another witch joke, never
even brought up your the day from hell or even commented on it. She’d almost started
to feel bad, but it must not have been too terrible if you could just brush it
under the rug like that. The sex was fine, and you were quieter than usual, but
a little fear was probably overdue.
In the coming days, life was great. She kept remarking to
herself on the total transformation you’d undergone. You were so much more
attentive, you hung on her every word, and you never argued when she asked you
to do something. She couldn’t be happier.
It was almost like this little experiment had left you a
brand new person.