Fading Into Black
A Shrunken Roommate (Re-upload)
chapter 20
by
copier
· original author:
azazel8
“…dye them black. They get a lot of use and it will help them to look clean.” Oh no. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t like your roommates had given you much in the way of a break to date, but the fact that Quinn was actively looking to make you a colour that wouldn’t look unclean no matter how much sweat and grime they poured into you did not bode well. Every fibre of your being focused on trying to move, even if only by a fraction of an inch, but it was a pointless endeavour, and you could do nothing as the woman holding you raised an elegant eyebrow. “You know of course that looking clean doesn’t mean they’ll actually be clean, right?” She didn’t sound sarcastic and your roommate didn’t seem to take offence as she shrugged. “It’s fine. They’re kind of self-cleaning anyway.” That was met with another raised eyebrow but the shopkeeper didn’t push the issue, just accepting the business and arranging payment before seeing her customer off with a polite farewell and wave.
As your attempts to yell for Quinn to come back remained mercilessly silent, you felt your tortured form being twisted back and forth as you were subjected to a few more experimental tugs. Curious eyes stared down at you as your new captor softly bit her lip, head tilting slightly in thought. “Hmm. Stretchy, resilient, and apparently self-cleaning. Looks like it snaps right back into shape too.” Those lips twisted into a frown as you were carried away from the counter and out back, set down beside some other undergarments as the woman starts sorting through some nearby tubs, glancing back at you briefly as she did so. “You’re not actually a tiny guy are you? That could make things difficult.”
On the verge of giving up hope entirely, you felt your spirits revived at the possibility of being saved by this total stranger. You couldn’t respond of course, no matter how much you wanted to, but if she was running a clothing alteration store, then surely she’d have some solution on hand to fix you. All you would need is a few drops and you’d be able to move again. To speak again. Several awkward discussions later and you’d have your life back. Sore and damaged but free. The bang of a tub being set down on the floor brought your mind back to the present and you looked back up to meet those curious eyes as the garments beside you were swept to the side and a dark bottle was retrieved from a shelf high above. “No response huh. Am I wrong then? Though… I guess you guys can’t talk sometimes if you’re too crushed or if you’ve been hit by Full Length or something like that huh?”
Yes! You wanted to scream the word at her, and perhaps you soon would. If she knew about Full Length then she’d have the solution and you could be saved. All it would take wa- “Oh well.” She shrugged and your thoughts derailed as that curious look shifted into one of dismissal, eyes moving back to her work as she poured black liquid from the bottle into the tub below. “As long as no-one tells me you’re a potentially unlicensed tiny it’s not my problem.” What? That’s it? Your mind went momentarily blank at the realisation that this woman suspected you might be a tiny, and yet was unwilling to do anything about it. The reality of just how little she cared hit you like a brick and you barely even noticed as you were lifted and dropped into the tub, the mixture of dye and water soaking into you as you slowly sank beneath the surface, assisted by a large wooden spoon being pressed down from above. “It’s not like you’ll be the first tiny I’ve worked with. Licensed or not.”
You felt like crying, but couldn’t even manage the act as you were casually stirred into the black mixture over the next few minutes, periodically left to stew in your own despair as the shopkeeper went about her other work, returning regularly to give you another stir. As bad as the last few weeks had been, it was this treatment more than anything that was breaking your spirit. Did the world care so little for you that people you didn’t know, and who didn’t know you, would willingly leave you as a thong just because it wasn’t their problem? Was this what tinies had been reduced to now? All of your life, you’d wanted to believe that people fundamentally cared, even if some of them could be a little misguided in relation to tiny rights. That women like Rachel and Isabella were the exception. Yet, as you were retrieved and hung up to dry, you could no longer hold onto that belief, glumly wondering if any of the other clothing hung up around you consisted of other unfortunate tinies.
By the time Quinn returned to collect you, you barely even noticed the hand-over, only coming back to reality when you heard an enthusiastic Avery tagging along, nagging her older roommate to let her have a turn with ‘it’ too. Your oblivious owner seemed irritated by the endless requests, noting that the pinkette already had plenty of thongs thanks to her job, though that did nothing to slow down the complaints, which followed you for the entire trip back to the apartment, until Morgan finally appeared to intervene and let Quinn take you back to her room unopposed. The fitter twin did leave a parting remark about hoping their existing agreement still stood, which received a sigh and a promise to ‘work something out’. Then the door clicked and the two of you were alone again.
You watched Quinn strip down with a sort of calm detachment, any pleasure you may once have taken from the sight now overwhelmed by months of being plunged into unforgiving rears and the deep realisation that any hope of salvation may now have passed. This time, there was no hint of recognition as the pale beauty looked down at you. No concern. Just anticipation and a quiet joy as you were stepped into and pulled up with an aggravating slowness. A pleased hum came from your roommate as you met her cheeks and plunged between them, fresh pools of sweat meeting you as you soaked it up like the world’s greatest sponge. Plunging back into your fleshy prison you realised with a growing sense of helplessness that this was your life now. You were now nothing but a thong.
If there was any silver lining to this situation, it was that you were at least a very good thong. You hated being used, but if this was what you were now, surely it was better than being discarded. It was evident from the start that you were a much enjoyed and sought after possession for your curvy roommates, with Quinn taking advantage of her lack of immediate shifts to wear you for two days straight, letting you soak up everything she had to offer day and night. It was only on the morning of the third day, with a looming shift and the mounting requests from her friends that the three finally sat down together and worked out a proper agreement. In return for some other concessions on the use of communal facilities and assets, Quinn agreed to share her wonder thong on a more liberal basis, reluctantly expanding Morgan’s time with you and adding Avery into the torturous mix.
As the weeks dragged into months, your raven-haired owner remained your primary wearer, but you also found yourself continuing your frequent use as Morgan’s favourite workout thong, in addition to joining Avery on a variety of outings, from movie dates to club dancing and even shopping trips. It was clear that all three girls took great pleasure in your use, collectively considering you their ‘lucky thong’ and fighting over you more than once when their respective schedules conflicted. When you were lucky, your nondescript colour caused confusion in your favour, allowing you a rare chance to sit unmolested among twisted sheets or discarded clothing while another black thong disappointed its wearer, though just as often your break was cut off as your intended wearer came running back.
There were close calls as well, when you would almost find yourself separated from your roommates by some mix-up or mistake. Hung on a hook while Morgan showered at the gym, a gym-goer half-blinded by steam had snatched you by mistake and her yoga pants had been half-way to covering you when the brunette came to your ‘rescue’, saving her favourite thong at the last moment. Days later, one of Avery’s fellow models had picked you up while the pinkette modelled a bikini, confusing you for her own set and wearing you through a whole photo session before the error was noticed. The worse time was when a sudden call from work had seen Quinn leaving you in the locker room at the beach and Brigitte had picked you up, looking around for your owner a bit before shrugging and taking you back to her office. The redhead had intended to put you in the lost and found but forgot and ended up taking you home by accident, figuring afterwards that she might as well try you out. It was a week until your roommate overheard her boss gloating about the ‘great thong’ she’d found.
You’d continue to have such adventures as the months dragged on, though it wasn’t like your use by your three primary owners was monotonous to begin with. Often you’d wake from a fitful sleep to find yourself being ground between unforgiving buttocks and within seconds be able to identify your wearer through the little differences you had become intimately familiar with. Quinn’s behind was so large that it stretched you to your limits, each step grinding you hard against her flesh. Morgan’s firm rear clenched down on you with tremendous force as gallons of sweat poured out with each exercise. Avery’s booty was the most erratic, moving in time with its own beat as its owner pranced around. Sometimes though it all just blended into a confused mass of hot sweaty crushing force and you couldn’t tell if you were being worn by your roommates or some other unknowing woman. You were starting to wonder if it even mattered anymore. After all, you were just a thong weren’t you?
As your attempts to yell for Quinn to come back remained mercilessly silent, you felt your tortured form being twisted back and forth as you were subjected to a few more experimental tugs. Curious eyes stared down at you as your new captor softly bit her lip, head tilting slightly in thought. “Hmm. Stretchy, resilient, and apparently self-cleaning. Looks like it snaps right back into shape too.” Those lips twisted into a frown as you were carried away from the counter and out back, set down beside some other undergarments as the woman starts sorting through some nearby tubs, glancing back at you briefly as she did so. “You’re not actually a tiny guy are you? That could make things difficult.”
On the verge of giving up hope entirely, you felt your spirits revived at the possibility of being saved by this total stranger. You couldn’t respond of course, no matter how much you wanted to, but if she was running a clothing alteration store, then surely she’d have some solution on hand to fix you. All you would need is a few drops and you’d be able to move again. To speak again. Several awkward discussions later and you’d have your life back. Sore and damaged but free. The bang of a tub being set down on the floor brought your mind back to the present and you looked back up to meet those curious eyes as the garments beside you were swept to the side and a dark bottle was retrieved from a shelf high above. “No response huh. Am I wrong then? Though… I guess you guys can’t talk sometimes if you’re too crushed or if you’ve been hit by Full Length or something like that huh?”
Yes! You wanted to scream the word at her, and perhaps you soon would. If she knew about Full Length then she’d have the solution and you could be saved. All it would take wa- “Oh well.” She shrugged and your thoughts derailed as that curious look shifted into one of dismissal, eyes moving back to her work as she poured black liquid from the bottle into the tub below. “As long as no-one tells me you’re a potentially unlicensed tiny it’s not my problem.” What? That’s it? Your mind went momentarily blank at the realisation that this woman suspected you might be a tiny, and yet was unwilling to do anything about it. The reality of just how little she cared hit you like a brick and you barely even noticed as you were lifted and dropped into the tub, the mixture of dye and water soaking into you as you slowly sank beneath the surface, assisted by a large wooden spoon being pressed down from above. “It’s not like you’ll be the first tiny I’ve worked with. Licensed or not.”
You felt like crying, but couldn’t even manage the act as you were casually stirred into the black mixture over the next few minutes, periodically left to stew in your own despair as the shopkeeper went about her other work, returning regularly to give you another stir. As bad as the last few weeks had been, it was this treatment more than anything that was breaking your spirit. Did the world care so little for you that people you didn’t know, and who didn’t know you, would willingly leave you as a thong just because it wasn’t their problem? Was this what tinies had been reduced to now? All of your life, you’d wanted to believe that people fundamentally cared, even if some of them could be a little misguided in relation to tiny rights. That women like Rachel and Isabella were the exception. Yet, as you were retrieved and hung up to dry, you could no longer hold onto that belief, glumly wondering if any of the other clothing hung up around you consisted of other unfortunate tinies.
By the time Quinn returned to collect you, you barely even noticed the hand-over, only coming back to reality when you heard an enthusiastic Avery tagging along, nagging her older roommate to let her have a turn with ‘it’ too. Your oblivious owner seemed irritated by the endless requests, noting that the pinkette already had plenty of thongs thanks to her job, though that did nothing to slow down the complaints, which followed you for the entire trip back to the apartment, until Morgan finally appeared to intervene and let Quinn take you back to her room unopposed. The fitter twin did leave a parting remark about hoping their existing agreement still stood, which received a sigh and a promise to ‘work something out’. Then the door clicked and the two of you were alone again.
You watched Quinn strip down with a sort of calm detachment, any pleasure you may once have taken from the sight now overwhelmed by months of being plunged into unforgiving rears and the deep realisation that any hope of salvation may now have passed. This time, there was no hint of recognition as the pale beauty looked down at you. No concern. Just anticipation and a quiet joy as you were stepped into and pulled up with an aggravating slowness. A pleased hum came from your roommate as you met her cheeks and plunged between them, fresh pools of sweat meeting you as you soaked it up like the world’s greatest sponge. Plunging back into your fleshy prison you realised with a growing sense of helplessness that this was your life now. You were now nothing but a thong.
If there was any silver lining to this situation, it was that you were at least a very good thong. You hated being used, but if this was what you were now, surely it was better than being discarded. It was evident from the start that you were a much enjoyed and sought after possession for your curvy roommates, with Quinn taking advantage of her lack of immediate shifts to wear you for two days straight, letting you soak up everything she had to offer day and night. It was only on the morning of the third day, with a looming shift and the mounting requests from her friends that the three finally sat down together and worked out a proper agreement. In return for some other concessions on the use of communal facilities and assets, Quinn agreed to share her wonder thong on a more liberal basis, reluctantly expanding Morgan’s time with you and adding Avery into the torturous mix.
As the weeks dragged into months, your raven-haired owner remained your primary wearer, but you also found yourself continuing your frequent use as Morgan’s favourite workout thong, in addition to joining Avery on a variety of outings, from movie dates to club dancing and even shopping trips. It was clear that all three girls took great pleasure in your use, collectively considering you their ‘lucky thong’ and fighting over you more than once when their respective schedules conflicted. When you were lucky, your nondescript colour caused confusion in your favour, allowing you a rare chance to sit unmolested among twisted sheets or discarded clothing while another black thong disappointed its wearer, though just as often your break was cut off as your intended wearer came running back.
There were close calls as well, when you would almost find yourself separated from your roommates by some mix-up or mistake. Hung on a hook while Morgan showered at the gym, a gym-goer half-blinded by steam had snatched you by mistake and her yoga pants had been half-way to covering you when the brunette came to your ‘rescue’, saving her favourite thong at the last moment. Days later, one of Avery’s fellow models had picked you up while the pinkette modelled a bikini, confusing you for her own set and wearing you through a whole photo session before the error was noticed. The worse time was when a sudden call from work had seen Quinn leaving you in the locker room at the beach and Brigitte had picked you up, looking around for your owner a bit before shrugging and taking you back to her office. The redhead had intended to put you in the lost and found but forgot and ended up taking you home by accident, figuring afterwards that she might as well try you out. It was a week until your roommate overheard her boss gloating about the ‘great thong’ she’d found.
You’d continue to have such adventures as the months dragged on, though it wasn’t like your use by your three primary owners was monotonous to begin with. Often you’d wake from a fitful sleep to find yourself being ground between unforgiving buttocks and within seconds be able to identify your wearer through the little differences you had become intimately familiar with. Quinn’s behind was so large that it stretched you to your limits, each step grinding you hard against her flesh. Morgan’s firm rear clenched down on you with tremendous force as gallons of sweat poured out with each exercise. Avery’s booty was the most erratic, moving in time with its own beat as its owner pranced around. Sometimes though it all just blended into a confused mass of hot sweaty crushing force and you couldn’t tell if you were being worn by your roommates or some other unknowing woman. You were starting to wonder if it even mattered anymore. After all, you were just a thong weren’t you?
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April 23, 2025
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