Put to Use
A Shrunken Roommate (Re-upload)
chapter 12
by
Bobob1
Quinn was at least partially relieved to find the employee changing room empty, as it meant she didn’t have to experience her horrible discomfort at what was about to take place with any prying eyes around. Still, as she found an empty bench and began stripping out of her casual clothes, she was incapable of looking away from her new bikini bottoms…and the poor tiny roommate that used to be just an hour ago. No trace of the funny, if slightly pervy, guy Quinn had come to tolerate was left.
Through your blurry vision from the dye and the mashing, you were just barely able to glimpse Quinn from the angle she’d dropped you onto the bench. You could see the fuzzy image of her body as she stripped naked, and then her hand grow closer and closer as she reached for you. Your blood ran cold from fear, while simultaneously your hormones began churning at double time. It was a frustrating situation that was a mix of terror and arousal. Your basic human rights had been ignored in every capacity thanks to that damn General Usage License…but Quinn was also the sexiest girl you’d ever seen in your life.
Any lingering attraction faltered as Quinn stepped into the two holes that Natasha had formed by looping your arms and legs. There was no turning back now, save for a quick pause from Quinn.
“I’m so, so sorry about this Hunter.” Quinn sighed. “I’ll do everything I possibly can to fix this as quick as possible. No tiny deserves this.” Your black-haired roommate sighed again. “That said…this is that last I can talk to you until at least this evening when our shift ends. Sorry.”
With that, your fate was one hundred percent sealed, as Quinn’s hands were totally tied. Pulling you up the rest of the way up her legs, Quinn had no choice but to treat you like the bikini bottoms that you currently were. From now until this whole mess was solved, you were a swimsuit, not a normal tiny guy living his life. Your Usage License required you to serve out your sentence.
The black-haired giantess, predictably, had a little bit of trouble squeezing you past her thick thighs, and especially up and around her utterly massive ass. She finally managed, using your body’s stretchy properties to their absolute limit. Your bikini shaped body was pulled out tight across Quinn’s ass, but you did your duty shockingly well. After Quinn finished fitting you in place, she couldn’t resist glancing at her appearance in the mirror.
You covered the expanse of her pale, thick derriere effectively, modestly concealing most of her bubble butt (and a million times more modest than her previous bottoms). You hugged her hips snuggly, but still allowed her to move freely. Her crotch was similarly protected, while also comfortably cradled. In fact, that was what shocked Quinn the most. You were unbelievably smooth and comfortable, distractingly so.
“Damn…this is a comfy–” Quinn began, before abruptly cutting herself off. She’d already started rubbing her hand along her butt, tracing her fingers against your back. Caught up in how soft, smooth, and supportive you were, for the faintest of moments the true identity of her new bikini bottoms had slipped her mind. No longer, and Quinn visibly recoiled at the fact that she’d just thought about how nice you felt wrapped around her. The very idea was wrong to her.
Frowning, Quinn dug out a fitting and mostly supportive bikini top from her bag, and then threw on a simple Sanderson Beach employee t-shirt over top. Sliding her feet back into her flip-flops, she adjusted her hair, slipped on some sunglasses, and strolled out of the changing room, desperately trying to think of anything but how nice you felt hugging her hips as she walked, and not like her old suit wedging itself into her butt crack every five seconds.
She crossed the sandy dunes and reached the middle lifeguard tower, where Brigitte had her stationed today. Scaling the ladder, Quinn took a moment to survey her surroundings, and then she leaned forward against the railing, pressing her hands into the polished wood.
For your part, you were just as weirded out by Quinn. You’d been worn as clothing several times in the past, but never anything as thorough as this. Gripped so tightly around Quinn’s silky-smooth skin, it almost felt a little comfortable, her own body heat washing over you. It wasn’t some sort of secret heaven, as your body was still stretched painfully tight to fit Quinn’s meaty thighs and huge ass, but it was almost bearable…save for the humiliatingly close proximity to her womanhood, and the faintest trace of stench from deep inside her butt.
As you were now, your face was firmly squeezed into Quinn’s plump buttocks, but because you more-or-less fit her like a glove, you weren’t riding up into her ass crack like a wedgie. Your body was merely pressed into her doughy cheeks, like a too-tight hug that you couldn’t escape from. Her slightest movements jiggled her flesh across your face, but it wasn’t unbelievably awful.
After a little over an hour, however, Quinn couldn’t last any longer. She’d been purposefully avoiding sitting, but her legs were screaming for relief. Grimacing at what she was about to do, Quinn slowly walked over to her lifeguard chair, took a deep breath, and then turned around and sat down, settling into the constrictive chair a size too small for someone of Quinn’s proportions.
The moment she sat, any illusion of this being a not-so-bad circumstance shattered. Quinn’s sizable derriere took up the entire space of the chair, squeezing into its tight confines. Your body was demolished beneath her ass, with nearly all of Quinn’s weight bearing down on you. Her hot flesh pressed into your swimsuit-shaped body, spilling out around you and utterly enveloping you. Your face was mashed flat by her cheeks, and both the slight stench and trickle of sweat doubled down into an oppressive scent and downpour of sticky sweat.
To her credit, Quinn had no way of possibly comprehending how terrible this was for you, and could only hope that she was making it as bearable as possible. Subconsciously, she wiggled a bit in her seat to get comfortable, acting totally on habit. It took her a second to realize and then chastise herself for the action, but the damage to you was done. She had smeared even more of her hot flesh across your body, and dumped another load of sweat onto you.
Another thirty minutes passed uneventfully, and Quinn vaguely wondered why her usually annoying lifeguard chair wasn’t so bad today. The truth was due to your body taking the brunt of most of the searing heat from the plastic instead of Quinn herself, singing your naked backside. You yourself were also still comfy to Quinn, and were acting like an extra layer of soft protection while she sat, like a thin cushion wrapped around her lower body.
Stretching her arms, Quinn nonchalantly crossed her legs, her body tired of sitting in the same position for so long. Still conflicting with her years of habits, this time Quinn didn’t think twice about the action. She merely took a sip from her water bottle, unaware to the fact that crossing her legs pushed her thighs into the front of her bottoms, thus shoving your crotch into direct contact with her own womanhood, doubling your embarrassment and humiliation.
Eventually, Quinn caught sight of a girl struggling to properly do the butterfly stroke amidst the waves. Not in danger of drowning, but an excuse to get up and move. Taking her chance, Quinn leapt to her feet, jostling her hefty posterior, but before she moved, Quinn was briefly confused by how sweat-free her ass felt. It was normally a factory of swampiness in the intense heat of the sun. Shrugging, Quinn climbed down the ladder, oblivious to the truth that it was your own body that was absorbing all of her sweat, like a sponge. You were involuntarily taking it into yourself and off of her.
Wading into the water, the coolness of the liquid hitting you was a splash of relief, but even that quick blessing faded soon. As Quinn submerged up to her stomach, you were entirely under the salty water, stuck there at Quinn’s mercy. All around you was churning and bubbling noises, and freaky reverberations of laughter and chatter. The water flowed all through you and around you, the saltiness stinging your eyes that you couldn’t close due to being crushed.
Quinn helped the girl for a solid fifteen minutes, and when she left the water, you were totally wet, and clung to Quinn tighter than before, like a second skin. You gripped her in a clenching hold, and you could so clearly feel every inch of her most sensitive areas touching your naked, swimsuit shaped body. Her cheeks jiggled as she walked back to the lifeguard tower and scaled the ladder, rubbing up and down against you so much it started to chafe your face.
By the time she reached the top of the tower, Quinn was floored to find herself nearly totally dry, from the waist down, despite having just left the ocean. Once more, your body had acted like a sponge, soaking up all the water droplets from Quinn’s flesh into your own pores, just like a good little swimsuit. Quinn grimaced as she spared a sympathetic glimpse at you before sitting, but even she couldn’t fight that feeling of how great you were as a pair of bikini bottoms.
And so the day went, before finally coming to a close hours later. You suffered, and through your own suffering, you eased Quinn’s. By the time your shift ended, and Quinn strolled off to the changing room, you just wanted it all to be over.
Being a pair of bottoms sucked.
Through your blurry vision from the dye and the mashing, you were just barely able to glimpse Quinn from the angle she’d dropped you onto the bench. You could see the fuzzy image of her body as she stripped naked, and then her hand grow closer and closer as she reached for you. Your blood ran cold from fear, while simultaneously your hormones began churning at double time. It was a frustrating situation that was a mix of terror and arousal. Your basic human rights had been ignored in every capacity thanks to that damn General Usage License…but Quinn was also the sexiest girl you’d ever seen in your life.
Any lingering attraction faltered as Quinn stepped into the two holes that Natasha had formed by looping your arms and legs. There was no turning back now, save for a quick pause from Quinn.
“I’m so, so sorry about this Hunter.” Quinn sighed. “I’ll do everything I possibly can to fix this as quick as possible. No tiny deserves this.” Your black-haired roommate sighed again. “That said…this is that last I can talk to you until at least this evening when our shift ends. Sorry.”
With that, your fate was one hundred percent sealed, as Quinn’s hands were totally tied. Pulling you up the rest of the way up her legs, Quinn had no choice but to treat you like the bikini bottoms that you currently were. From now until this whole mess was solved, you were a swimsuit, not a normal tiny guy living his life. Your Usage License required you to serve out your sentence.
The black-haired giantess, predictably, had a little bit of trouble squeezing you past her thick thighs, and especially up and around her utterly massive ass. She finally managed, using your body’s stretchy properties to their absolute limit. Your bikini shaped body was pulled out tight across Quinn’s ass, but you did your duty shockingly well. After Quinn finished fitting you in place, she couldn’t resist glancing at her appearance in the mirror.
You covered the expanse of her pale, thick derriere effectively, modestly concealing most of her bubble butt (and a million times more modest than her previous bottoms). You hugged her hips snuggly, but still allowed her to move freely. Her crotch was similarly protected, while also comfortably cradled. In fact, that was what shocked Quinn the most. You were unbelievably smooth and comfortable, distractingly so.
“Damn…this is a comfy–” Quinn began, before abruptly cutting herself off. She’d already started rubbing her hand along her butt, tracing her fingers against your back. Caught up in how soft, smooth, and supportive you were, for the faintest of moments the true identity of her new bikini bottoms had slipped her mind. No longer, and Quinn visibly recoiled at the fact that she’d just thought about how nice you felt wrapped around her. The very idea was wrong to her.
Frowning, Quinn dug out a fitting and mostly supportive bikini top from her bag, and then threw on a simple Sanderson Beach employee t-shirt over top. Sliding her feet back into her flip-flops, she adjusted her hair, slipped on some sunglasses, and strolled out of the changing room, desperately trying to think of anything but how nice you felt hugging her hips as she walked, and not like her old suit wedging itself into her butt crack every five seconds.
She crossed the sandy dunes and reached the middle lifeguard tower, where Brigitte had her stationed today. Scaling the ladder, Quinn took a moment to survey her surroundings, and then she leaned forward against the railing, pressing her hands into the polished wood.
For your part, you were just as weirded out by Quinn. You’d been worn as clothing several times in the past, but never anything as thorough as this. Gripped so tightly around Quinn’s silky-smooth skin, it almost felt a little comfortable, her own body heat washing over you. It wasn’t some sort of secret heaven, as your body was still stretched painfully tight to fit Quinn’s meaty thighs and huge ass, but it was almost bearable…save for the humiliatingly close proximity to her womanhood, and the faintest trace of stench from deep inside her butt.
As you were now, your face was firmly squeezed into Quinn’s plump buttocks, but because you more-or-less fit her like a glove, you weren’t riding up into her ass crack like a wedgie. Your body was merely pressed into her doughy cheeks, like a too-tight hug that you couldn’t escape from. Her slightest movements jiggled her flesh across your face, but it wasn’t unbelievably awful.
After a little over an hour, however, Quinn couldn’t last any longer. She’d been purposefully avoiding sitting, but her legs were screaming for relief. Grimacing at what she was about to do, Quinn slowly walked over to her lifeguard chair, took a deep breath, and then turned around and sat down, settling into the constrictive chair a size too small for someone of Quinn’s proportions.
The moment she sat, any illusion of this being a not-so-bad circumstance shattered. Quinn’s sizable derriere took up the entire space of the chair, squeezing into its tight confines. Your body was demolished beneath her ass, with nearly all of Quinn’s weight bearing down on you. Her hot flesh pressed into your swimsuit-shaped body, spilling out around you and utterly enveloping you. Your face was mashed flat by her cheeks, and both the slight stench and trickle of sweat doubled down into an oppressive scent and downpour of sticky sweat.
To her credit, Quinn had no way of possibly comprehending how terrible this was for you, and could only hope that she was making it as bearable as possible. Subconsciously, she wiggled a bit in her seat to get comfortable, acting totally on habit. It took her a second to realize and then chastise herself for the action, but the damage to you was done. She had smeared even more of her hot flesh across your body, and dumped another load of sweat onto you.
Another thirty minutes passed uneventfully, and Quinn vaguely wondered why her usually annoying lifeguard chair wasn’t so bad today. The truth was due to your body taking the brunt of most of the searing heat from the plastic instead of Quinn herself, singing your naked backside. You yourself were also still comfy to Quinn, and were acting like an extra layer of soft protection while she sat, like a thin cushion wrapped around her lower body.
Stretching her arms, Quinn nonchalantly crossed her legs, her body tired of sitting in the same position for so long. Still conflicting with her years of habits, this time Quinn didn’t think twice about the action. She merely took a sip from her water bottle, unaware to the fact that crossing her legs pushed her thighs into the front of her bottoms, thus shoving your crotch into direct contact with her own womanhood, doubling your embarrassment and humiliation.
Eventually, Quinn caught sight of a girl struggling to properly do the butterfly stroke amidst the waves. Not in danger of drowning, but an excuse to get up and move. Taking her chance, Quinn leapt to her feet, jostling her hefty posterior, but before she moved, Quinn was briefly confused by how sweat-free her ass felt. It was normally a factory of swampiness in the intense heat of the sun. Shrugging, Quinn climbed down the ladder, oblivious to the truth that it was your own body that was absorbing all of her sweat, like a sponge. You were involuntarily taking it into yourself and off of her.
Wading into the water, the coolness of the liquid hitting you was a splash of relief, but even that quick blessing faded soon. As Quinn submerged up to her stomach, you were entirely under the salty water, stuck there at Quinn’s mercy. All around you was churning and bubbling noises, and freaky reverberations of laughter and chatter. The water flowed all through you and around you, the saltiness stinging your eyes that you couldn’t close due to being crushed.
Quinn helped the girl for a solid fifteen minutes, and when she left the water, you were totally wet, and clung to Quinn tighter than before, like a second skin. You gripped her in a clenching hold, and you could so clearly feel every inch of her most sensitive areas touching your naked, swimsuit shaped body. Her cheeks jiggled as she walked back to the lifeguard tower and scaled the ladder, rubbing up and down against you so much it started to chafe your face.
By the time she reached the top of the tower, Quinn was floored to find herself nearly totally dry, from the waist down, despite having just left the ocean. Once more, your body had acted like a sponge, soaking up all the water droplets from Quinn’s flesh into your own pores, just like a good little swimsuit. Quinn grimaced as she spared a sympathetic glimpse at you before sitting, but even she couldn’t fight that feeling of how great you were as a pair of bikini bottoms.
And so the day went, before finally coming to a close hours later. You suffered, and through your own suffering, you eased Quinn’s. By the time your shift ended, and Quinn strolled off to the changing room, you just wanted it all to be over.
Being a pair of bottoms sucked.
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April 23, 2025
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