Maid to Order (Part One)
One Foot Tall Fiancé
chapter 14
by
copier
· original author:
phantomstriker
From the moment you felt your body possess that little bit of final strength, you were convinced that your freedom was secured. Perhaps it was hopeful optimism, but you still genuinely believed you could wiggle away to safety. It was only as Amber lifted the bundle of blankets off of the bed, and you were carried up with them, that you realized how screwed you were. The fight left you just as your hope shattered.
Oblivious to all of this, Amber dumped the blankets and your body into the hamper under her cleaning cart, and you toppled inside. Your body slid into the already quite stuffed hamper, and the rest of the blankets tumbled on top of you, thoroughly burying you and creating enough pressure to keep you flat and unable to reform enough to move or cry out for help. You could only wallow in the darkness, as the faint scent of dirty laundry wafted all around you.
Outside the hamper prison, Amber surveyed the room to make sure she’d gotten everything, tripped and smacked into the bed table, and then pushed her cart out of the room, rubbing her sore forehead. Out in the hall, she helped Cassie look for you for about ten minutes, your fiancée still being a bit cagey on exactly what/who she was looking for, but eventually Amber had to return to her duties. She was still on the clock, after all.
Pushing the cart out of the suite and down the hall, the muffled rumbling of the wheels turning was your only clue that this oblivious maid was taking you further and further away from your only chance at salvation. You could do little but hopelessly pray for some miracle to save you, but to no avail. Amber kept a steady grip on her cart as she headed off down the hall, even venturing to sing a soft little song as she walked. She ran into no one else on her way.
Eventually, she reached one of the many resort laundry rooms exclusive to staff at the end of the hallway. Pulling her cart inside and closing the door, Amber grunted as she hefted the hamper off the cart and onto the floor by the industrial-sized washing machine. Demonstrating surprising strength for a klutzy girl her size, she hefted the hamper up and deposited all of the contents, yourself included, into the cold bin of the washing machine.
Fittingly, she tripped right afterwards, slapping her noggin into the wall. Dazed, the ditzy maid fumbled at the washing machine controls, and accidentally hit a button she knew she wasn’t supposed to, and shrieked as a valve in the washing machine squeezed out a small stream of some red detergent. Amber hastily shut the valve off, and glanced glumly into the bin, watching the red detergent soak into the blanket on top of the load.
Grimacing, and hoping her mistake hadn’t cost her her job, Amber quickly hit all the correct buttons, starting the spray of freezing water, the spin of the bin, and a deposit of the correct, extra-absorbent detergent. Satisfied that she’d done it right this time, Amber slammed the lid to the washing machine closed and sat back on a chair, accidentally toppling backwards onto the floor.
Amber’s careless antics aside, your experience inside the washing machine was decidedly less comical. You had landed near the top of the pile, with only one queen-sized sheet falling above you. As such, you felt the chill of cooling detergent as the accidental red liquid slipped out of the valve Amber had activated, and dripped all over you and the sheet. It soaked into the fabric of the sheet, and coated your squished body.
Almost immediately, you felt a somewhat burning sensation across your body, a rushing wave of tingles dancing across your skin. The red detergent coated you and the sheet above you completely. It smelled funny, and as a few drops ran down your face, tasted funny too. Your body felt…weird…as it was submerged in the liquid, and even the presence of freezing water seconds later didn’t dispel the odd feeling.
The bin began to spin, picking up speed until it was rumbling quickly. You soon lost all sense of direction inside the cramped, pitch-black washing machine as a mixture of water, detergent, bedding, and yourself flipped and flopped in circles. You spun and smacked into various articles of dirty laundry over and over, before finally firmly smashing into a velvety smooth sheet, your back smacking into the soft fabric so that you were still facing out. Water then fully flooded the bin.
Enveloped underwater, your body cried out at the bone-chilling temperature, even as the constant spinning and rattling threatened to knock you unconscious. The entire wash lasted an hour, but it felt like five as you were stuck to the sheet you’d been forcibly slammed into. More sheets and blankets slapped and crashed into you as the bin spun and spun, and if you hadn’t been smushed flatter than a sticker, you’d have thrown up long ago.
The wash cycle did eventually end, but that was hardly salvation for you. Without missing a beat, the lid was opened by Amber, who dutifully grabbed the sopping wet bedding and tossed it into the nearby industry-sized dryer. You and the bedsheet you were glued to went in the dryer as well, Amber failing to spot you in the brief second you were visible.
The dryer was more of the same, but the opposite effect. You were still tumbled head over heels by the rotating bin inside the machine, but now hot blasts of horribly high temperature air blew at you from all sides. You felt like you’d start melting, but most worryingly of all, you squishy body began to adhere even more into the sheet you were stuck to. It was like the blow-drying air of the dryer was baking you into the bedsheet, like a makeshift tattoo on the fabric. There was nothing you could do to stop it either, way to squished and battered to reform now.
As the drying cycle stopped two hours later, you tentatively tried to wiggle or squirm, but couldn’t move a muscle. You tried to speak, but your mouth as way too mashed. As you focused harder on reforming, you noted with no small amount of terror just how fused you felt to the fabric of the bedsheet. The baking heat in the dryer really had cemented you in place firmly, and a kernel of doubt popped into your mind about your slim chances of breaking free without outside help.
Not missing a beat, Amber pulled open the dryer and yanked out one sheet, blanket, and comforter at a time, delicately folded them up, and laid them out on a fresh cart she’d prepared while waiting. The curvaceous girl was still humming her little tune to herself as she worked on folding up the freshly clean and wonderful smelling laundry. Finally, only one bedsheet remained in the washing machine, and it was the one you were stuck to.
When she pulled it out, you felt her smooth fingers press into your chest, seemingly without her noticing. You begged her to look down and notice you, as she held the bedsheet in her arms and began grabbing its corners to fold it up, but her gaze was not on you. She was looking at the clock above the door to the laundry room, noting how much time she had left until her shift was done. You tried calling up to her, but is was still useless, so you mentally frowned and glanced behind shoulder at a full-length mirror on the wall…
…and your heart stopped.
Oblivious to all of this, Amber dumped the blankets and your body into the hamper under her cleaning cart, and you toppled inside. Your body slid into the already quite stuffed hamper, and the rest of the blankets tumbled on top of you, thoroughly burying you and creating enough pressure to keep you flat and unable to reform enough to move or cry out for help. You could only wallow in the darkness, as the faint scent of dirty laundry wafted all around you.
Outside the hamper prison, Amber surveyed the room to make sure she’d gotten everything, tripped and smacked into the bed table, and then pushed her cart out of the room, rubbing her sore forehead. Out in the hall, she helped Cassie look for you for about ten minutes, your fiancée still being a bit cagey on exactly what/who she was looking for, but eventually Amber had to return to her duties. She was still on the clock, after all.
Pushing the cart out of the suite and down the hall, the muffled rumbling of the wheels turning was your only clue that this oblivious maid was taking you further and further away from your only chance at salvation. You could do little but hopelessly pray for some miracle to save you, but to no avail. Amber kept a steady grip on her cart as she headed off down the hall, even venturing to sing a soft little song as she walked. She ran into no one else on her way.
Eventually, she reached one of the many resort laundry rooms exclusive to staff at the end of the hallway. Pulling her cart inside and closing the door, Amber grunted as she hefted the hamper off the cart and onto the floor by the industrial-sized washing machine. Demonstrating surprising strength for a klutzy girl her size, she hefted the hamper up and deposited all of the contents, yourself included, into the cold bin of the washing machine.
Fittingly, she tripped right afterwards, slapping her noggin into the wall. Dazed, the ditzy maid fumbled at the washing machine controls, and accidentally hit a button she knew she wasn’t supposed to, and shrieked as a valve in the washing machine squeezed out a small stream of some red detergent. Amber hastily shut the valve off, and glanced glumly into the bin, watching the red detergent soak into the blanket on top of the load.
Grimacing, and hoping her mistake hadn’t cost her her job, Amber quickly hit all the correct buttons, starting the spray of freezing water, the spin of the bin, and a deposit of the correct, extra-absorbent detergent. Satisfied that she’d done it right this time, Amber slammed the lid to the washing machine closed and sat back on a chair, accidentally toppling backwards onto the floor.
Amber’s careless antics aside, your experience inside the washing machine was decidedly less comical. You had landed near the top of the pile, with only one queen-sized sheet falling above you. As such, you felt the chill of cooling detergent as the accidental red liquid slipped out of the valve Amber had activated, and dripped all over you and the sheet. It soaked into the fabric of the sheet, and coated your squished body.
Almost immediately, you felt a somewhat burning sensation across your body, a rushing wave of tingles dancing across your skin. The red detergent coated you and the sheet above you completely. It smelled funny, and as a few drops ran down your face, tasted funny too. Your body felt…weird…as it was submerged in the liquid, and even the presence of freezing water seconds later didn’t dispel the odd feeling.
The bin began to spin, picking up speed until it was rumbling quickly. You soon lost all sense of direction inside the cramped, pitch-black washing machine as a mixture of water, detergent, bedding, and yourself flipped and flopped in circles. You spun and smacked into various articles of dirty laundry over and over, before finally firmly smashing into a velvety smooth sheet, your back smacking into the soft fabric so that you were still facing out. Water then fully flooded the bin.
Enveloped underwater, your body cried out at the bone-chilling temperature, even as the constant spinning and rattling threatened to knock you unconscious. The entire wash lasted an hour, but it felt like five as you were stuck to the sheet you’d been forcibly slammed into. More sheets and blankets slapped and crashed into you as the bin spun and spun, and if you hadn’t been smushed flatter than a sticker, you’d have thrown up long ago.
The wash cycle did eventually end, but that was hardly salvation for you. Without missing a beat, the lid was opened by Amber, who dutifully grabbed the sopping wet bedding and tossed it into the nearby industry-sized dryer. You and the bedsheet you were glued to went in the dryer as well, Amber failing to spot you in the brief second you were visible.
The dryer was more of the same, but the opposite effect. You were still tumbled head over heels by the rotating bin inside the machine, but now hot blasts of horribly high temperature air blew at you from all sides. You felt like you’d start melting, but most worryingly of all, you squishy body began to adhere even more into the sheet you were stuck to. It was like the blow-drying air of the dryer was baking you into the bedsheet, like a makeshift tattoo on the fabric. There was nothing you could do to stop it either, way to squished and battered to reform now.
As the drying cycle stopped two hours later, you tentatively tried to wiggle or squirm, but couldn’t move a muscle. You tried to speak, but your mouth as way too mashed. As you focused harder on reforming, you noted with no small amount of terror just how fused you felt to the fabric of the bedsheet. The baking heat in the dryer really had cemented you in place firmly, and a kernel of doubt popped into your mind about your slim chances of breaking free without outside help.
Not missing a beat, Amber pulled open the dryer and yanked out one sheet, blanket, and comforter at a time, delicately folded them up, and laid them out on a fresh cart she’d prepared while waiting. The curvaceous girl was still humming her little tune to herself as she worked on folding up the freshly clean and wonderful smelling laundry. Finally, only one bedsheet remained in the washing machine, and it was the one you were stuck to.
When she pulled it out, you felt her smooth fingers press into your chest, seemingly without her noticing. You begged her to look down and notice you, as she held the bedsheet in her arms and began grabbing its corners to fold it up, but her gaze was not on you. She was looking at the clock above the door to the laundry room, noting how much time she had left until her shift was done. You tried calling up to her, but is was still useless, so you mentally frowned and glanced behind shoulder at a full-length mirror on the wall…
…and your heart stopped.
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March 28, 2025
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