A Worse Fate for Tinies Everywhere
A Shrunken Roommate (Re-upload)
chapter 21
by
copier
· original author:
azazel8
Time can be a funny thing when you spend every day being plunged between the buttocks of three women seemingly intent to squeeze and pummel you every second of the day. Sometimes seconds seemed to drag on for hours as sweat and gas poured into you. Other times, the mindless monotony of being stretched with each step and bounce let days bleed away into a meaningless miasma, entire weeks passing you by without notice. When, suddenly, the one-year anniversary of that fateful day you were first issued with a licence and doomed to this accursed form came, you had no idea it was even upon you. For that matter, neither did your roommates, the fate of the unfortunate tiny they had known for just a couple of days having long since been relegated to an unfortunate anecdote.
You woke up that day to the feeling of being squeezed by the toned mass of Morgan’s rear as she went on a pre-dawn run to train for an upcoming marathon, an experience you’d already endured every day for the last two weeks. Several hours later you found yourself being thoroughly wrung out from the gallons of sweat you had absorbed before being handed off to a late-rising Quinn for her own trip to the gym, a lunch at the local Mexican fast-food joint, and then an afternoon vegging out on the couch for her and grinding torture for you as she continued to shift to get comfortable. Later, you’d find yourself handed off once more as Avery claimed you for a night of clubbing, her bouncing behind jiggling within you as she danced within a crush of bodies. You weren’t even given a break that night as Avery paused only to remove her dress and bra before collapsing face-first into bed.
As you lay awake, soaking up the last of your roommate’s lingering sweat, you fought to keep your sense of who you were. After endless days like this your consciousness was being ground down to such an extent that it was often a struggle just to remember who and what you were. It would be so much easier to just think of yourself as a thong just doing its duty and doing it well. In the past, you’d never understood those ‘willing’ tinies who had been briefly allowed to return to their original forms in order to be paraded before the media as advocates for the CTC, but now you realised that many of them, if not all, had simply had their wills broken by continuous use. Though you couldn’t know it, as nothing had been heard from you in a year, the CTC had declared you ‘in use’ and permanently logged your General Use Licence. Your family had been informed and while Tracy quietly despaired over your fate, Helen was just annoyed at your foolishness, and Norah proud of your commitment.
Whatever the terms of the deal your roommates had made, you found yourself spending roughly half of your time wrapped around Quinn’s massive hips, their size failing to diminish at all with time. You got the distinct feeling she’d wear you all the time if she could, but both the agreement and the demands of her job prevented it. The remainder of your time was split between Morgan and Avery, usually when they had a particular need or desire for your unending support, meaning that you got to experience quite a few trips to the gym and general exercise with one twin, and endless dancing, partying and several dates with the other. There were still times when you got to experience other women’s behinds either on a short or long-term basis, but your three owners were generally good at keeping track of you and you were always returned in time, though often a fair bit worse for wear.
While the world continued to forget you, it also moved on without your consent. Unknown to you, things continued to shift against your kind, with Baker’s Law advocates pushing hard for reforms, and gaining more and more public support as the number of licensed tinies increased. Things really began to change when the Tiny Advocacy Act passed, which enshrined into law the principle that even tinies who had found their ‘true calling’ should retain their right to vote. As forcing reversion to their original form to vote would be cruel and unethical, their owner was entitled to vote by proxy on their behalf. For General Use Licences, where the tiny’s current owner was unknown or disputed, a CTC representative would be charged with casting that tiny’s vote in the general interests of tinies.
A full two years after your booty imprisonment began, you found yourself once more buried deeply between Quinn’s cheeks as she flicked through TV channels and shifted to get comfortable. Trying to hold on to some sense of the world beyond, you struggled to listen in as your bunched up form was rolled and squeezed between the shifting cheeks, the sounds of the buxom girl’s body thundering in what remained of your ears and almost drowning out the broadcast. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you were given your chance when your roommate found a breaking new broadcast on the national election and increased the volume, stopping her shifting and leaning forward to listen more intently. Much to your mounting terror, Melanie Johnson, the face of Full-Length Spray and long-time ‘tiny rights’ advocate, had won a stunning victory, buoyed by the support of her fellow advocates and the new votes from their licensed tinies to the country’s highest position. Even ‘you’ had voted for her.
While you missed a lot of the little details, you caught enough of the announcement to be terrified. As Quinn listened with distaste and resignation, the news repeated Johnson’s campaign promise that Baker’s Law would be overhauled to reverse the presumption that tinies should not be licensed. Going forward, all tinies of 18 years or older would be issued a licence immediately, unless relevant documentation was submitted on their behalf, signed by a responsible adult and witnessed by a CTC employee confirming their desire to be ‘unlicensed’. For underage tinies, such documentation must be submitted by their recognised guardian, usually their mother, between the ages of 16 and 18. For overaged tinies, they had one month to consult a public guardian or speak to the CTC directly. If a relevant CTC representative had any concerns that a tiny seeking to be unlicensed may be suffering from Minun Dissociative Personality Disorder or a similar adverse psychological condition, they were empowered to refer that tiny to a treatment clinic for a formal diagnosis and recovery program.
Quinn switched the TV off with a scoff, and you were left to dwell in silent horror at how the world had just become so much worse for your kind. The familiar back and forth of your roommate’s steps as massive cheeks squeezed in around you were barely noticed, thoughts of what this would mean for you and others dominating your mind. Had you just lost any chance of being released form this torment? Even if you were somehow found, was there any hope of getting your licence revoked? It wasn’t until you felt the familiar compressing force of bike shorts being pulled over your prison and the sensation of Quinn mounting Morgan’s exercise bike that you returned to the present, groaning in both discomfort and anticipation as your wearer began to pedal, sweating out her own misgivings.
Throughout the course of the next year, you heard first-hand through your roommates’ experiences some of the many changes occurring under the Johnson presidency. It went without saying that the changes to Baker’s Law went through with barely any dissenting votes, a majority of seats now filled by women with strong ‘support’ among tinies. To encourage the use of tinies, regulations were being brought into place to institute the widespread and proper use of licensed individuals. Often these were government mandates, though in less regulated industries they stopped at recommendations, albeit those with strong incentives to comply. There were objections at first, of course, though not always motivated by actual concern for your kind, but as more and more women who had previously abstained began to experience the sheer usefulness of licensed tinies their concerns began to fade.
By the time your third anniversary as a thong came around it seemed that every time you heard any news about current events it was yet another nail being driven into the coffin of tiny independence. As you were stretched across Morgan’s rear during a torturous yoga class, you heard her students whispering about all major sporting codes mandating the use of Performance Enhancing Tinies. Each team encouraged to leverage family, friends and fans to fill the needed spots. One of Avery’s dates spoke excitedly about her older brother getting an exciting job as a living prop in the movie industry. About how he was going to be appearing in an upcoming action film as the lead actress’s lingerie. On a visit to her mother’s, Quinn rolled her eyes as Betty showed off her new tiny accessories, rejecting an offer of some of the other woman’s ‘old clothes’, nothing that she already had an excellent thong.
Your roommates’ jobs weren’t immune either. A growing proportion of the equipment at Workout World was being supplemented by tinies, bike seats and weight machines finding themselves with new squishy cushions, while squishy insoles were rented out to patrons lacking their own and the gym’s much-abused towels were quickly replaced with new hyper-absorbent alternatives, among many other uses. The photo shoots at Starlight Studios focused increasingly on the modelling of new tiny-based clothing, catering to the growing industry of tinies choosing to be fashioned into clothing and sold to lucky women. Even Sanderson Beach had resolved their ongoing issues with bikinis being broken by their bodacious lifeguards by issuing each with their own extra-endurant bikini, objections from some of the girls shot down without hesitation until they faded to occasional grumbles only.
Things are looking down for tinies everywhere, but what will happen to you among all this change?
You woke up that day to the feeling of being squeezed by the toned mass of Morgan’s rear as she went on a pre-dawn run to train for an upcoming marathon, an experience you’d already endured every day for the last two weeks. Several hours later you found yourself being thoroughly wrung out from the gallons of sweat you had absorbed before being handed off to a late-rising Quinn for her own trip to the gym, a lunch at the local Mexican fast-food joint, and then an afternoon vegging out on the couch for her and grinding torture for you as she continued to shift to get comfortable. Later, you’d find yourself handed off once more as Avery claimed you for a night of clubbing, her bouncing behind jiggling within you as she danced within a crush of bodies. You weren’t even given a break that night as Avery paused only to remove her dress and bra before collapsing face-first into bed.
As you lay awake, soaking up the last of your roommate’s lingering sweat, you fought to keep your sense of who you were. After endless days like this your consciousness was being ground down to such an extent that it was often a struggle just to remember who and what you were. It would be so much easier to just think of yourself as a thong just doing its duty and doing it well. In the past, you’d never understood those ‘willing’ tinies who had been briefly allowed to return to their original forms in order to be paraded before the media as advocates for the CTC, but now you realised that many of them, if not all, had simply had their wills broken by continuous use. Though you couldn’t know it, as nothing had been heard from you in a year, the CTC had declared you ‘in use’ and permanently logged your General Use Licence. Your family had been informed and while Tracy quietly despaired over your fate, Helen was just annoyed at your foolishness, and Norah proud of your commitment.
Whatever the terms of the deal your roommates had made, you found yourself spending roughly half of your time wrapped around Quinn’s massive hips, their size failing to diminish at all with time. You got the distinct feeling she’d wear you all the time if she could, but both the agreement and the demands of her job prevented it. The remainder of your time was split between Morgan and Avery, usually when they had a particular need or desire for your unending support, meaning that you got to experience quite a few trips to the gym and general exercise with one twin, and endless dancing, partying and several dates with the other. There were still times when you got to experience other women’s behinds either on a short or long-term basis, but your three owners were generally good at keeping track of you and you were always returned in time, though often a fair bit worse for wear.
While the world continued to forget you, it also moved on without your consent. Unknown to you, things continued to shift against your kind, with Baker’s Law advocates pushing hard for reforms, and gaining more and more public support as the number of licensed tinies increased. Things really began to change when the Tiny Advocacy Act passed, which enshrined into law the principle that even tinies who had found their ‘true calling’ should retain their right to vote. As forcing reversion to their original form to vote would be cruel and unethical, their owner was entitled to vote by proxy on their behalf. For General Use Licences, where the tiny’s current owner was unknown or disputed, a CTC representative would be charged with casting that tiny’s vote in the general interests of tinies.
A full two years after your booty imprisonment began, you found yourself once more buried deeply between Quinn’s cheeks as she flicked through TV channels and shifted to get comfortable. Trying to hold on to some sense of the world beyond, you struggled to listen in as your bunched up form was rolled and squeezed between the shifting cheeks, the sounds of the buxom girl’s body thundering in what remained of your ears and almost drowning out the broadcast. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you were given your chance when your roommate found a breaking new broadcast on the national election and increased the volume, stopping her shifting and leaning forward to listen more intently. Much to your mounting terror, Melanie Johnson, the face of Full-Length Spray and long-time ‘tiny rights’ advocate, had won a stunning victory, buoyed by the support of her fellow advocates and the new votes from their licensed tinies to the country’s highest position. Even ‘you’ had voted for her.
While you missed a lot of the little details, you caught enough of the announcement to be terrified. As Quinn listened with distaste and resignation, the news repeated Johnson’s campaign promise that Baker’s Law would be overhauled to reverse the presumption that tinies should not be licensed. Going forward, all tinies of 18 years or older would be issued a licence immediately, unless relevant documentation was submitted on their behalf, signed by a responsible adult and witnessed by a CTC employee confirming their desire to be ‘unlicensed’. For underage tinies, such documentation must be submitted by their recognised guardian, usually their mother, between the ages of 16 and 18. For overaged tinies, they had one month to consult a public guardian or speak to the CTC directly. If a relevant CTC representative had any concerns that a tiny seeking to be unlicensed may be suffering from Minun Dissociative Personality Disorder or a similar adverse psychological condition, they were empowered to refer that tiny to a treatment clinic for a formal diagnosis and recovery program.
Quinn switched the TV off with a scoff, and you were left to dwell in silent horror at how the world had just become so much worse for your kind. The familiar back and forth of your roommate’s steps as massive cheeks squeezed in around you were barely noticed, thoughts of what this would mean for you and others dominating your mind. Had you just lost any chance of being released form this torment? Even if you were somehow found, was there any hope of getting your licence revoked? It wasn’t until you felt the familiar compressing force of bike shorts being pulled over your prison and the sensation of Quinn mounting Morgan’s exercise bike that you returned to the present, groaning in both discomfort and anticipation as your wearer began to pedal, sweating out her own misgivings.
Throughout the course of the next year, you heard first-hand through your roommates’ experiences some of the many changes occurring under the Johnson presidency. It went without saying that the changes to Baker’s Law went through with barely any dissenting votes, a majority of seats now filled by women with strong ‘support’ among tinies. To encourage the use of tinies, regulations were being brought into place to institute the widespread and proper use of licensed individuals. Often these were government mandates, though in less regulated industries they stopped at recommendations, albeit those with strong incentives to comply. There were objections at first, of course, though not always motivated by actual concern for your kind, but as more and more women who had previously abstained began to experience the sheer usefulness of licensed tinies their concerns began to fade.
By the time your third anniversary as a thong came around it seemed that every time you heard any news about current events it was yet another nail being driven into the coffin of tiny independence. As you were stretched across Morgan’s rear during a torturous yoga class, you heard her students whispering about all major sporting codes mandating the use of Performance Enhancing Tinies. Each team encouraged to leverage family, friends and fans to fill the needed spots. One of Avery’s dates spoke excitedly about her older brother getting an exciting job as a living prop in the movie industry. About how he was going to be appearing in an upcoming action film as the lead actress’s lingerie. On a visit to her mother’s, Quinn rolled her eyes as Betty showed off her new tiny accessories, rejecting an offer of some of the other woman’s ‘old clothes’, nothing that she already had an excellent thong.
Your roommates’ jobs weren’t immune either. A growing proportion of the equipment at Workout World was being supplemented by tinies, bike seats and weight machines finding themselves with new squishy cushions, while squishy insoles were rented out to patrons lacking their own and the gym’s much-abused towels were quickly replaced with new hyper-absorbent alternatives, among many other uses. The photo shoots at Starlight Studios focused increasingly on the modelling of new tiny-based clothing, catering to the growing industry of tinies choosing to be fashioned into clothing and sold to lucky women. Even Sanderson Beach had resolved their ongoing issues with bikinis being broken by their bodacious lifeguards by issuing each with their own extra-endurant bikini, objections from some of the girls shot down without hesitation until they faded to occasional grumbles only.
Things are looking down for tinies everywhere, but what will happen to you among all this change?
copier
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April 23, 2025
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