From Thong to One-Piece
A Shrunken Roommate (Re-upload)
chapter 22
by
copier
· original author:
azazel8
As tiny clothes continued to flood the market, Avery was the first to acquire a new special thong for herself, having received a complementary pair as a bonus in her latest modelling contract. Shortly thereafter Morgan was provided a pair by Helen to assist her in leading workout classes, allowed to wear them home provided she didn’t loose them. With the twins provided for there was no further need for them to use you, and although both remained a little reluctant to part with the thong that had served them so well for years, they agreed to allow Quinn to reclaim her role as your owner.
The pale girl did briefly consider moving on to a tiny thong herself. Her initial misgivings over such things had not been all that strong to begin with, based more on concerns over whether they were truly willing participants then any particular objection to the act itself. Those misgivings had since faded after nearly a year of using her new lifeguard bikini, unable to deny the vast improvement over her previous sets. But then, as nice as the bikini was, she still thought that her special thong was even better, briefly wondering if it really was a tiny, having somehow ended up in her wardrobe all those years ago. If so, she supposed it was good that she’d helped it fulfill its apparent purpose.
This reversion of your ownership was timely, as Quinn had recently decided to leave the apartment, having finished her time at Sanderson Beach. Now nearly 27 years old, your former roommate had gotten herself a new job at a local water park, promising longer hours and better pay, and was going to rent a smaller one-bedroom apartment closer to the park. Morgan and Avery were, of course, sad to see their friend go, and even Quinn got a little teary as she promised that she’d keep in touch. It was mostly just a joke when Morgan suggested that she and Avery get one more day each with their ‘special thong’ before the other girl left, but they all agreed it was fitting to mark the occasion, and so you spent a long weekend being dominated by the twins. A long Saturday running a marathon was followed by a Sunday spent at an outdoor rave, not to mention the consecutive sleepless nights.
It would be nice to say that there was a silver lining to all your torment. That one day you would be freed from this form and given the chance to live a normal life, somehow managing to avoid the fate that was now befalling so many tinies. Unfortunately, it was not to be, and things only got worse for you when your owner started her new job. Unlike Sanderson Beach, the Tsunami Land Water Park allowed workers to wear their own bikinis, provided they were made from tinies and appropriately labelled with the Tsunami Land logo. Finally having a reason to actually check, Quinn submitted you for testing and identification, not even surprised when the test came back positive for tiny material. The CTC came back with the confirmation, but noted they were withholding your name as you had not given permission for such information to be disclosed, wanting to be known as an object only.
At this point, it didn’t matter much to Quinn who you were, just one more tiny among many being used across the country. She spared only a small thought for who you were before dismissing it as not her concern, the thought that it may have been her tiny roommate for all those years ago not even crossing her mind. Her new boss, Melissa, suggested that if she was so attached to the thong, she should have it remodelled into a one-piece, rather than go to the trouble of getting a matching top. She waved off concerns over whether you’d produce enough material for that, noting that since the new laws were implemented there were all manner of new techniques and treatments for tinies, and that their tiny handler could stretch and weave a tiny with other material to increase available surface area, providing adequate coverage while retaining your overall stretchiness and absorbency.
The idea of being remodelled terrified you enough, any growing sense of complacency you may have developed as a thong stripped away in the face of being stretched well beyond your current extent. For the first time in years, you tried to struggle, tried to twitch even a little bit to somehow convey to these women that you wanted no part of this, but without the solvent it was a pointless endeavour. Instead, you were forced to listen with mounting horror as Melissa warned that, while the finished one-piece would be wearable under any clothes, and Quinn was welcome to wear it even when she wasn’t working, the process was mostly irreversible, and you would become Tsunami Land property.
The many objections you tried to raise went unheard, your owner spending more time weighing the pros and cons of inevitably loosing you if she got a new job than she did contemplating the trapped tiny she’d be dooming to a lifetime of use. After all, as far as she was concerned, you’d already been a thong for years, this couldn’t be much worse. So it was that you found yourself handed over to the park’s designated tiny handler, a young Asian woman named Kim, whose own curves strained within a one-piece of her own that you were sure contained at least one tiny. One of the senior lifeguards at the park, her secondary duties apparently included gathering up any unattended tinies found in the park and delivery them to the lost and found, as well as ‘working’ with the park-owned tinies. It was probably not a coincidence that lost tinies had a way of ending up on the park’s property ledger.
Step one in your remodelling included dunking you in a tank of solvent for the Full-Length Spray, the same substance which you had been denied all those years ago. Back then, just a few drops would have been enough to save you. Would have given you the opportunity to start to reform fast enough to be noticed and rescued by your roommates. But now… now you had been stuck for so long. You had been crushed and squeezed into your current form. Soaked with booty sweat, grime and gas. You were well past the point of being able to even move, let alone attempt to reform or speak. And it wasn’t like Kim was inclined to give you the chance, her nimble fingers descending on you without pause as she began to pull and stretch at you like you were nothing but a lump of clay. Without even the strength to cry out in agony, you found yourself being contorted into the main structure of the one-piece, your previous thong body unravelled only to be replaced with a yet more torturous form.
As she worked on stretching out your indistinguishable face to form the seat of the new swimwear, the handler consulted a note she had taken on Quinn’s measurements and gave your crushed pelvis another hard pull to get a few more inches of material. “You know we used to have tiny lifeguards as well.” It took you a moment to realise she was talking to you, and despite the context your heart still leapt a little at being actually addressed for the first time in years. “But with the new laws, Melissa made some changes to their contract, so I’ve had a lot of practice turning little guys like you into the swimwear for our lifeguards. Trust me. You’re going to love this next part.” Even if you’d been able to respond, it was clear Kim wasn’t waiting for one, her fingers returning with a vengeance to pinch and stretch your edges into thin strands, before started to twist and embed those strands into the edges of a polymer designed to provide as close an approximation as possible to a tiny’s properties.
By the time the entwining process was completed, you’d been morphed into an impressive one-piece, the black cords made from your body forming what would have no-doubt been considered a scandalous one-piece covering the bare minimum of skin had they been left to their own devices. Fortunately for the reputation of the park, and for your wearer’s dignity, the many gaps had been filled by the red and grey shades of the polymer, its lower overall durability alleviated by being anchored to your sturdy frame. In addition to prominently displaying the Tsunami Land logo in key locations, Kim had stitched Quinn’s name across the left breast, making your ownership-status clear. One thorough soaking in a vat of Full-Length later and you were ready for service at your new job.
When you were delivered back to your former roommate later that day, the pale girl wasted no time in slipping you back on, uncharacteristically eager to feel what had become of her favourite thong. As you snapped into place across her shoulders and around her hips you felt yourself being filled up in a way that you’d never experienced before. More than just bearing down on you, it felt like Quinn was being poured into your being, every part of you wrapped tightly around her. The weight of her breasts bore down on what remained of your hands even as your face was sucked into the depths of her booty and as she stretched a little you groaned silently as your pelvis ground against the muscles of her back. Even the parts that weren’t you felt as if they were, the weight they bore transferred to you, and even the light sheen of sweat they absorbed from Quinn’s body flowing through to you. It was all too much. Even after years of being worn you felt like you were going to break all over again.
While you suffered, your owner surreptitiously ran a hand across her abdomen, marvelling at Kim’s work. She’d loved you as a thong, and the bikini she’d worn at Sanderson Beach had been excellent, but this was a whole new level of comfort. As if she was being embraced in the loving arms of a devoted partner, leading her unable to keep the light blush from her face as she gazed down at you. “I don’t know who you are little guy, but… thanks for giving me and my friends years of great service. And… thanks in advance for many more to come. I think this is going to be a beautiful partnership.”
The pale girl did briefly consider moving on to a tiny thong herself. Her initial misgivings over such things had not been all that strong to begin with, based more on concerns over whether they were truly willing participants then any particular objection to the act itself. Those misgivings had since faded after nearly a year of using her new lifeguard bikini, unable to deny the vast improvement over her previous sets. But then, as nice as the bikini was, she still thought that her special thong was even better, briefly wondering if it really was a tiny, having somehow ended up in her wardrobe all those years ago. If so, she supposed it was good that she’d helped it fulfill its apparent purpose.
This reversion of your ownership was timely, as Quinn had recently decided to leave the apartment, having finished her time at Sanderson Beach. Now nearly 27 years old, your former roommate had gotten herself a new job at a local water park, promising longer hours and better pay, and was going to rent a smaller one-bedroom apartment closer to the park. Morgan and Avery were, of course, sad to see their friend go, and even Quinn got a little teary as she promised that she’d keep in touch. It was mostly just a joke when Morgan suggested that she and Avery get one more day each with their ‘special thong’ before the other girl left, but they all agreed it was fitting to mark the occasion, and so you spent a long weekend being dominated by the twins. A long Saturday running a marathon was followed by a Sunday spent at an outdoor rave, not to mention the consecutive sleepless nights.
It would be nice to say that there was a silver lining to all your torment. That one day you would be freed from this form and given the chance to live a normal life, somehow managing to avoid the fate that was now befalling so many tinies. Unfortunately, it was not to be, and things only got worse for you when your owner started her new job. Unlike Sanderson Beach, the Tsunami Land Water Park allowed workers to wear their own bikinis, provided they were made from tinies and appropriately labelled with the Tsunami Land logo. Finally having a reason to actually check, Quinn submitted you for testing and identification, not even surprised when the test came back positive for tiny material. The CTC came back with the confirmation, but noted they were withholding your name as you had not given permission for such information to be disclosed, wanting to be known as an object only.
At this point, it didn’t matter much to Quinn who you were, just one more tiny among many being used across the country. She spared only a small thought for who you were before dismissing it as not her concern, the thought that it may have been her tiny roommate for all those years ago not even crossing her mind. Her new boss, Melissa, suggested that if she was so attached to the thong, she should have it remodelled into a one-piece, rather than go to the trouble of getting a matching top. She waved off concerns over whether you’d produce enough material for that, noting that since the new laws were implemented there were all manner of new techniques and treatments for tinies, and that their tiny handler could stretch and weave a tiny with other material to increase available surface area, providing adequate coverage while retaining your overall stretchiness and absorbency.
The idea of being remodelled terrified you enough, any growing sense of complacency you may have developed as a thong stripped away in the face of being stretched well beyond your current extent. For the first time in years, you tried to struggle, tried to twitch even a little bit to somehow convey to these women that you wanted no part of this, but without the solvent it was a pointless endeavour. Instead, you were forced to listen with mounting horror as Melissa warned that, while the finished one-piece would be wearable under any clothes, and Quinn was welcome to wear it even when she wasn’t working, the process was mostly irreversible, and you would become Tsunami Land property.
The many objections you tried to raise went unheard, your owner spending more time weighing the pros and cons of inevitably loosing you if she got a new job than she did contemplating the trapped tiny she’d be dooming to a lifetime of use. After all, as far as she was concerned, you’d already been a thong for years, this couldn’t be much worse. So it was that you found yourself handed over to the park’s designated tiny handler, a young Asian woman named Kim, whose own curves strained within a one-piece of her own that you were sure contained at least one tiny. One of the senior lifeguards at the park, her secondary duties apparently included gathering up any unattended tinies found in the park and delivery them to the lost and found, as well as ‘working’ with the park-owned tinies. It was probably not a coincidence that lost tinies had a way of ending up on the park’s property ledger.
Step one in your remodelling included dunking you in a tank of solvent for the Full-Length Spray, the same substance which you had been denied all those years ago. Back then, just a few drops would have been enough to save you. Would have given you the opportunity to start to reform fast enough to be noticed and rescued by your roommates. But now… now you had been stuck for so long. You had been crushed and squeezed into your current form. Soaked with booty sweat, grime and gas. You were well past the point of being able to even move, let alone attempt to reform or speak. And it wasn’t like Kim was inclined to give you the chance, her nimble fingers descending on you without pause as she began to pull and stretch at you like you were nothing but a lump of clay. Without even the strength to cry out in agony, you found yourself being contorted into the main structure of the one-piece, your previous thong body unravelled only to be replaced with a yet more torturous form.
As she worked on stretching out your indistinguishable face to form the seat of the new swimwear, the handler consulted a note she had taken on Quinn’s measurements and gave your crushed pelvis another hard pull to get a few more inches of material. “You know we used to have tiny lifeguards as well.” It took you a moment to realise she was talking to you, and despite the context your heart still leapt a little at being actually addressed for the first time in years. “But with the new laws, Melissa made some changes to their contract, so I’ve had a lot of practice turning little guys like you into the swimwear for our lifeguards. Trust me. You’re going to love this next part.” Even if you’d been able to respond, it was clear Kim wasn’t waiting for one, her fingers returning with a vengeance to pinch and stretch your edges into thin strands, before started to twist and embed those strands into the edges of a polymer designed to provide as close an approximation as possible to a tiny’s properties.
By the time the entwining process was completed, you’d been morphed into an impressive one-piece, the black cords made from your body forming what would have no-doubt been considered a scandalous one-piece covering the bare minimum of skin had they been left to their own devices. Fortunately for the reputation of the park, and for your wearer’s dignity, the many gaps had been filled by the red and grey shades of the polymer, its lower overall durability alleviated by being anchored to your sturdy frame. In addition to prominently displaying the Tsunami Land logo in key locations, Kim had stitched Quinn’s name across the left breast, making your ownership-status clear. One thorough soaking in a vat of Full-Length later and you were ready for service at your new job.
When you were delivered back to your former roommate later that day, the pale girl wasted no time in slipping you back on, uncharacteristically eager to feel what had become of her favourite thong. As you snapped into place across her shoulders and around her hips you felt yourself being filled up in a way that you’d never experienced before. More than just bearing down on you, it felt like Quinn was being poured into your being, every part of you wrapped tightly around her. The weight of her breasts bore down on what remained of your hands even as your face was sucked into the depths of her booty and as she stretched a little you groaned silently as your pelvis ground against the muscles of her back. Even the parts that weren’t you felt as if they were, the weight they bore transferred to you, and even the light sheen of sweat they absorbed from Quinn’s body flowing through to you. It was all too much. Even after years of being worn you felt like you were going to break all over again.
While you suffered, your owner surreptitiously ran a hand across her abdomen, marvelling at Kim’s work. She’d loved you as a thong, and the bikini she’d worn at Sanderson Beach had been excellent, but this was a whole new level of comfort. As if she was being embraced in the loving arms of a devoted partner, leading her unable to keep the light blush from her face as she gazed down at you. “I don’t know who you are little guy, but… thanks for giving me and my friends years of great service. And… thanks in advance for many more to come. I think this is going to be a beautiful partnership.”
copier
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April 23, 2025
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