Sanderson Beach Property
A Shrunken Roommate (Re-upload)
chapter 13
by
Bobob1
Other lifeguards were in the changing room when Quinn arrived, but after a while, the other girls finished stripping out of their uniforms and changing into their casual clothes. They tossed their wet uniforms in a pile, said their goodbyes to Quinn and each other, and strolled out of the changing room. Finally alone, Quinn hastily pulled you away from her ass and wiggled you down her long legs, stepping out of your makeshift loops and freeing you for the first time in hours.
Though far too mashed, flattened, and compressed to actually gulp in the fresh air, you still mentally sighed with relief as the cool AC of the changing room hit your face. Your vision was still a blurry mess, but you could just barely make out the disfigured image of Quinn staring down at you, something like worry and pity written all over her face.
“Geez, Hunter. This is a mess.” Quinn sighed. “I promise we’ll end this as soon as possible. Morgan and Avery will help too.” The black-haired giantess rubbed your face softly. “If it’s any consolation, you really did help my day go better, being so comfy and absorbent.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Quinn blushed and backtracked. “Uh…never mind!”
Just then, the door swung open, and Brigitte sauntered in, smiling broadly at Quinn. “Ah! There you are. Thought maybe you’d left with the other girls.”
Quinn shook her head, setting you down on the bench in front of her so she could begin pulling up her panties and shorts to wear home. “I was about to. Same shift tomorrow, right?”
Brigitte nodded. “Yeah, same shift. Maybe the left tower though? I’ll have to look at coverages. Honestly, we could really use one more lifeguard on staff…” Your red-haired boss trailed off, and then glanced at you. “Anyway, I’ll take those.” She stated simply, grabbing you casually off the bench.
Quinn paled, and her eyes widened. “W-wait, Brigitte! That’s Hunter, not just bikini bottoms.”
The muscular giantess folded her arms across her chest, inadvertently squeezing you into her firm breasts. “Yes, I suppose. Although technically, he’s a Sanderson Beach uniform right now, not a tiny. His usage license dictates those rules.”
Quinn’s face grew devoid of emotion. “…what.”
To her credit, Brigitte looked a little sheepish. “What I mean is, he legally isn’t Hunter right now. He’s Sanderson Beach property, and as such…” Brigitte trailed off and groaned. “God, I feel like the bad guy in all of this, but it’s the law! He’s property, and so he can’t leave the beach. He stays here, Quinn!”
“He’s a human being!” Quinn cried, indignant.
“Not according to his license!” Brigitte retorted. “We don’t allow our staff to take their uniforms home, and Hunter is no exception in his current form. I’m sorry, Quinn, but that’s the way it is. Until your replacement uniform comes in, or his license is revoked, the law is the law.” With a sense of finality, Brigitte tossed you over her shoulder, causing you to fall onto the top of the pile of wet uniforms from the other lifeguards.
Quinn seethed, but finally took a deep breath, her expression flipping straight to the opposite. Sullenly, Quinn nodded, finished getting changed, and shuffled out of the changing room, but not before Brigitte patted her on the shoulder in a sympathetic motion.
Alone in the locker room, Brigitte rubbed her temples. “Damn…you forgot how emotional that girl can be when she isn’t acting all apathetic. I feel bad for her. Wish she’d just get over this soon.” Shrugging, Brigitte scooped you and the other uniforms up into her arms. “Anyway, time for a good washing!”
Falling back into her typically energetic, confident attitude, Brigitte crossed the changing room towards a washing machine in the back, popped open the lid, and tossed you and the other swimsuits inside. You began to panic at this unexpected turn of events, but there wasn’t a thing you could do as Brigitte slammed the lid shut and started the wash cycle after pouring in some detergent.
Any small hope you held that the fabric dye and paints Natasha used would break apart in the washing machine were shattered within minutes. Your bonds held strong, and after an hour of spinning around and bashing into sopping wet clothes, the wash cycle ended. You were still a perfectly shaped pair of bikini bottoms, looking to all the world like a normal Sanderson Beach employee uniform.
In fact, Brigitte didn’t even spare you any special attention as she pulled you out, instead just bunching up all the clothes, carrying them right outside the changing room door, and hanging them up on a clothesline to catch the sun. She dug two sharp metal pinching pins into your eyes as she clipped you to the line, causing you to mentally scream out, but obviously make no sound. Brigitte just kept smiling until the whole line was filled.
After that, your employer left, heading home for the night, and you were alone with nothing to do but sway in the breeze and try to ignore the sharp crushing pains from the clothespins. Once more you tried and failed to reform, the binding holding you in your bikini bottom shape. You vaguely recalled Natasha’s words about how permanent her changes to you could be without special sealant, and as you eventually drifted off to sleep, you prayed to anyone who would listen that fate wouldn’t keep you this way permanently.
You were awoken hours later by the feeling of the clothesline shaking up and down. Though your vision was still blurry, you could make out the other lifeguards as they giggled and gossiped while unpinning their suits all around you. Your blood ran cold, your mind spinning horrible nightmares in which a distracted giantess grabbed you instead of her proper suit, thus separating you from Quinn, your only hope.
Thankfully, when a hand finally did grab your face, it was Quinn herself. You could just barely make out her grimacing face, and the sight of her lips mouthing the words ‘I’m sorry’, before you were dropped to the ground and dragged up her legs. You physically and mentally braced yourself as best as you could in the last few seconds you had, and then Quinn hefted you up over her massive cheeks and snapped you into place around her shapely derriere.
The rest of the day was hardly eventful. You continued to experience endless crushing, smushing, and sweat baths as they day prior, and Quinn continued to feel quite comfortable physically, but internally she knew how awful this was for her. Quinn was also frustrated all day, as she’d spent the past night working around the clock to undue your license, only to find that the cruel woman Isabella had thrown every possible legal barricade into Quinn’s path to stall her.
In fact, the entire rest of the week went by uneventfully. Every day, Quinn would begrudgingly use and abuse you, forcing your services as a tiny-turned-bikini, and you would suffer as a result. Each night, Quinn would tear her hair out trying to remove the license only to make minimal progress. Her mind was becoming so consumed with the legal jargon battle with Isabella that she started to think of you less and less during the day, and therefore treat you less carefully.
Your own nights also followed a predictable pattern of being washed in the machine with the other suits each evening, and left to hang on the line overnight. Brigitte had long stopped referring to you as a person, and obviously none of the other employee’s knew your true identity. That sort of treatment from everyone around you was soul-crushing, and you started to fall into a bit of a depression.
Then, one morning, there was a shift in the norm. Brigitte herself grabbed you from the clothesline and carried you limply back to her office. You had no idea what was going on, but as your employer set you down on her desk, you caught a glimpse of a mail package beside you with a label that read ‘replacement lifeguard suit’. With a release of unbridled joy, you realized that Quinn’s replacement was in, and your time as a bikini was over!
Seemingly picking up on your silent excitement, Brigitte leaned back in her chair and looked down at you. “Guess your time’s up, Hunter.” Before she could say anything else, the door to her office swung open, and a girl ran in.
She looked harried and out of breath, and in her early-to-mid-twenties. She was average height, and had bright, curly blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. Immediately noticeable to Brigitte though, were the girls abundant curves. Fairly stacked in the chest department, the girl was incredibly developed in her lower half, with a monstrous ass that rivalled Quinn, and equally thick thighs and wide hips.
“I’m…n-not late…am I?” The girl panted, out of breath.
Brigitte’s eyes glinted with recognition. “Ah. You must be Angeline. Ready for your first day?” Your boss looked over some papers in front of her. “Impressive resume, I must say. Can’t tell you how great it is to have another lifeguard on staff for our busiest days.”
Angeline grinned adorably. “Thanks ma’am! When do I get my uniform suit?”
“Well, you’ll…” Brigitte began, but then trailed off. After a moment, she swore under her breath. Impossibly, she was back to square one. Angeline’s curvy figure would, in no way, fit into a normal uniform. The only employee swimsuit that would work would either be the replacement she had literally JUST gotten for Quinn, or…
Brigitte glanced down at you, and then back at Angeline. She bit her lip in contemplation, and you looked helplessly back up at her, having no idea what was going on but getting a horrible sinking feeling in your chest.
Though far too mashed, flattened, and compressed to actually gulp in the fresh air, you still mentally sighed with relief as the cool AC of the changing room hit your face. Your vision was still a blurry mess, but you could just barely make out the disfigured image of Quinn staring down at you, something like worry and pity written all over her face.
“Geez, Hunter. This is a mess.” Quinn sighed. “I promise we’ll end this as soon as possible. Morgan and Avery will help too.” The black-haired giantess rubbed your face softly. “If it’s any consolation, you really did help my day go better, being so comfy and absorbent.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Quinn blushed and backtracked. “Uh…never mind!”
Just then, the door swung open, and Brigitte sauntered in, smiling broadly at Quinn. “Ah! There you are. Thought maybe you’d left with the other girls.”
Quinn shook her head, setting you down on the bench in front of her so she could begin pulling up her panties and shorts to wear home. “I was about to. Same shift tomorrow, right?”
Brigitte nodded. “Yeah, same shift. Maybe the left tower though? I’ll have to look at coverages. Honestly, we could really use one more lifeguard on staff…” Your red-haired boss trailed off, and then glanced at you. “Anyway, I’ll take those.” She stated simply, grabbing you casually off the bench.
Quinn paled, and her eyes widened. “W-wait, Brigitte! That’s Hunter, not just bikini bottoms.”
The muscular giantess folded her arms across her chest, inadvertently squeezing you into her firm breasts. “Yes, I suppose. Although technically, he’s a Sanderson Beach uniform right now, not a tiny. His usage license dictates those rules.”
Quinn’s face grew devoid of emotion. “…what.”
To her credit, Brigitte looked a little sheepish. “What I mean is, he legally isn’t Hunter right now. He’s Sanderson Beach property, and as such…” Brigitte trailed off and groaned. “God, I feel like the bad guy in all of this, but it’s the law! He’s property, and so he can’t leave the beach. He stays here, Quinn!”
“He’s a human being!” Quinn cried, indignant.
“Not according to his license!” Brigitte retorted. “We don’t allow our staff to take their uniforms home, and Hunter is no exception in his current form. I’m sorry, Quinn, but that’s the way it is. Until your replacement uniform comes in, or his license is revoked, the law is the law.” With a sense of finality, Brigitte tossed you over her shoulder, causing you to fall onto the top of the pile of wet uniforms from the other lifeguards.
Quinn seethed, but finally took a deep breath, her expression flipping straight to the opposite. Sullenly, Quinn nodded, finished getting changed, and shuffled out of the changing room, but not before Brigitte patted her on the shoulder in a sympathetic motion.
Alone in the locker room, Brigitte rubbed her temples. “Damn…you forgot how emotional that girl can be when she isn’t acting all apathetic. I feel bad for her. Wish she’d just get over this soon.” Shrugging, Brigitte scooped you and the other uniforms up into her arms. “Anyway, time for a good washing!”
Falling back into her typically energetic, confident attitude, Brigitte crossed the changing room towards a washing machine in the back, popped open the lid, and tossed you and the other swimsuits inside. You began to panic at this unexpected turn of events, but there wasn’t a thing you could do as Brigitte slammed the lid shut and started the wash cycle after pouring in some detergent.
Any small hope you held that the fabric dye and paints Natasha used would break apart in the washing machine were shattered within minutes. Your bonds held strong, and after an hour of spinning around and bashing into sopping wet clothes, the wash cycle ended. You were still a perfectly shaped pair of bikini bottoms, looking to all the world like a normal Sanderson Beach employee uniform.
In fact, Brigitte didn’t even spare you any special attention as she pulled you out, instead just bunching up all the clothes, carrying them right outside the changing room door, and hanging them up on a clothesline to catch the sun. She dug two sharp metal pinching pins into your eyes as she clipped you to the line, causing you to mentally scream out, but obviously make no sound. Brigitte just kept smiling until the whole line was filled.
After that, your employer left, heading home for the night, and you were alone with nothing to do but sway in the breeze and try to ignore the sharp crushing pains from the clothespins. Once more you tried and failed to reform, the binding holding you in your bikini bottom shape. You vaguely recalled Natasha’s words about how permanent her changes to you could be without special sealant, and as you eventually drifted off to sleep, you prayed to anyone who would listen that fate wouldn’t keep you this way permanently.
You were awoken hours later by the feeling of the clothesline shaking up and down. Though your vision was still blurry, you could make out the other lifeguards as they giggled and gossiped while unpinning their suits all around you. Your blood ran cold, your mind spinning horrible nightmares in which a distracted giantess grabbed you instead of her proper suit, thus separating you from Quinn, your only hope.
Thankfully, when a hand finally did grab your face, it was Quinn herself. You could just barely make out her grimacing face, and the sight of her lips mouthing the words ‘I’m sorry’, before you were dropped to the ground and dragged up her legs. You physically and mentally braced yourself as best as you could in the last few seconds you had, and then Quinn hefted you up over her massive cheeks and snapped you into place around her shapely derriere.
The rest of the day was hardly eventful. You continued to experience endless crushing, smushing, and sweat baths as they day prior, and Quinn continued to feel quite comfortable physically, but internally she knew how awful this was for her. Quinn was also frustrated all day, as she’d spent the past night working around the clock to undue your license, only to find that the cruel woman Isabella had thrown every possible legal barricade into Quinn’s path to stall her.
In fact, the entire rest of the week went by uneventfully. Every day, Quinn would begrudgingly use and abuse you, forcing your services as a tiny-turned-bikini, and you would suffer as a result. Each night, Quinn would tear her hair out trying to remove the license only to make minimal progress. Her mind was becoming so consumed with the legal jargon battle with Isabella that she started to think of you less and less during the day, and therefore treat you less carefully.
Your own nights also followed a predictable pattern of being washed in the machine with the other suits each evening, and left to hang on the line overnight. Brigitte had long stopped referring to you as a person, and obviously none of the other employee’s knew your true identity. That sort of treatment from everyone around you was soul-crushing, and you started to fall into a bit of a depression.
Then, one morning, there was a shift in the norm. Brigitte herself grabbed you from the clothesline and carried you limply back to her office. You had no idea what was going on, but as your employer set you down on her desk, you caught a glimpse of a mail package beside you with a label that read ‘replacement lifeguard suit’. With a release of unbridled joy, you realized that Quinn’s replacement was in, and your time as a bikini was over!
Seemingly picking up on your silent excitement, Brigitte leaned back in her chair and looked down at you. “Guess your time’s up, Hunter.” Before she could say anything else, the door to her office swung open, and a girl ran in.
She looked harried and out of breath, and in her early-to-mid-twenties. She was average height, and had bright, curly blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. Immediately noticeable to Brigitte though, were the girls abundant curves. Fairly stacked in the chest department, the girl was incredibly developed in her lower half, with a monstrous ass that rivalled Quinn, and equally thick thighs and wide hips.
“I’m…n-not late…am I?” The girl panted, out of breath.
Brigitte’s eyes glinted with recognition. “Ah. You must be Angeline. Ready for your first day?” Your boss looked over some papers in front of her. “Impressive resume, I must say. Can’t tell you how great it is to have another lifeguard on staff for our busiest days.”
Angeline grinned adorably. “Thanks ma’am! When do I get my uniform suit?”
“Well, you’ll…” Brigitte began, but then trailed off. After a moment, she swore under her breath. Impossibly, she was back to square one. Angeline’s curvy figure would, in no way, fit into a normal uniform. The only employee swimsuit that would work would either be the replacement she had literally JUST gotten for Quinn, or…
Brigitte glanced down at you, and then back at Angeline. She bit her lip in contemplation, and you looked helplessly back up at her, having no idea what was going on but getting a horrible sinking feeling in your chest.
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April 23, 2025
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