More Property Than Man
A Shrunken Roommate (Re-upload)
chapter 23
by
copier
· original author:
azazel8
When you’d been a thong, the endless exchange between your three owners had ensured that you barely ever got a break, achieving rest only when you invariably passed out for a few fitful hours. A part of you had dared to hope that, despite the sheer torment of your stretched-out form, belonging to Quinn alone would make things easier, but if anything, your experiences only became worse. Your owner was occasionally forced, by circumstance or decorum, to leave you hanging in her closet, but in any other circumstance you found yourself practically glued to her body at all times. Like nothing she had ever worn before, the uniqueness and pleasant warmth of your embrace drove the pale girl to wear you as often as possible and you quickly found yourself assigned not only as a work uniform, but as sleepwear, gym gear and even casual underwear hidden beneath Quinn’s everyday clothes.
Every last drop of sweat that dripped from your former roommate’s body was yours to absorb, not to mention any other emission that was given the chance to soak into your form. Whatever strange chemicals the polymer that interweaved with your form had been treated with caused it to redirect anything it absorbed back to yourself, forcing your horrendously stretched body to act as a built-in cleaning service and ensuring you wouldn’t even get a break to be cleaned. Quinn was loving every second of it, her hands frequently roaming over your form whenever she was alone, and more than once you had been kept awake by her deep moans and the feeling of her juices soaking into you. As days dragged into weeks, and weeks into month, it was a struggle just to maintain your sanity. To not give into the hopeless reality of your existence as your once-friend became your entire world.
Given that your face was near-constantly buried in Quinn’s massive rear, your knowledge of the outside world was limited to what little you could overhear and the even more limited events you could actually witnesses, usually when your owner was bent over for one reason or another. It was a struggle to keep track of time, but for the first year or so, events continued much as they had when you first arrived at the park. Excited chatter from guests centred frequently around the new laws, and the brave new world that was opening up for their tiny family and friends. Those few who raised dissenting arguments were quickly assured by the majority that the changes were best for everyone, or else shouted down and ridiculed for their foolish beliefs. Eventually, the dissent faded altogether.
More than once you listed in as Quinn apologised to a guest for accidentally stepping or sitting on their tiny, often including a gentle enquiry as to their ownership status and a reminder to keep them close. Though just as often a piece of lost property with possible tiny qualities was handed off to Kim to be either claimed at the lost-and-found, or else added to the park’s expanding inventory. On one memorable occasion you found yourself practically face-to-face with a tiny who couldn’t have been older than nineteen and had found himself trapped between the lifeguard’s cheeks when he had ended up on her chair, smeared across a buttock and relentlessly ground all day as he wept openly. When he was finally peeled free the next morning as Quinn’s nails scratched at a persistent itch, his pleads that he held a valid exemption went unheard, as he was swiftly handed over to Kim to check his records. Though you didn’t know for sure what happened to him, the fact that the park’s supply of rentable swimwear expanded with a new bikini top that same day did not bode well for his fate.
By the time you entered your second year as a one-piece you noticed a marked turndown in the number of alleged unattended tinies, and even a decrease in discussion of the topic. More and more tinies were mentioned in the abstract only, with references to the latest ‘baker-products’ or about how much use could be made of ‘squishy-material’. Even Quinn would join in, chatting amicably with her fellow lifeguards about whether or not the park would increase its ‘supply’ of materials, though noting she wasn’t going to give up or trade in her own swimwear anytime soon. You hated the fact that, despite the continuously dehumanising language, you were just glad you could stay with her. In a twisted way you even found yourself thankful for Kim to have branded you as she had, the name stitched across you saving you more than once from nearly joining another lifeguard’s wardrobe.
Though you witnessed only a small portion of it, the nation and the world at large were becoming more and more accepting of the role of tinies advocated by the self-styled Freedom Movement. The movement was sweeping the globe, it’s ideals adopted far and wide, though not without variation. In many countries, even the semblance of tiny choice had been discarded, if it had ever existed in the first place. Tinies far and wide were being turned into clothing or other objects, either put on sale or forcibly assigned to an owner. Closer to home, the distinctions between general use, specific use and commercial licences had been erased, with any licence now entitling a tiny to ‘choose’ an owner, whether a person or a business, with that owner then able to transfer the contract at will. MP-005478425, formerly known as Hunter Woods, was licenced to Tsunami World, though had been sub-licenced in turn to the use of Quinn Wallace, contingent on her continued employed at the park.
At first, some tinies had tried to escape by taking on a licence with someone they trusted, but those efforts were crushed by the introduction of strict penalties for the failure to use an assigned tiny, including potential prison time and, more importantly, mandatory confiscation of the tiny. Loving family members and friends forced to either use their once treasured tinies or to give them up. It didn’t help that while taking a tiny without permission was still considered a crime, it was treated as a theft against the owner, rather than a crime against the tiny, and one that could be addressed through compensation or substitution of another tiny, rather than the return of the specific tiny. More than one household had lost a family member this way, with little hope of their actual return.
Your best update on the outside world came on a day nearly three years after you had assumed this form, your face given some semblance of relief as Quinn pulled it from her butt and smoothed you out across her large buttocks. With the park having just closed for the day, a number of lifeguards were gathered in the changing room, chatting casually as they slowly pulled on clothing over their tiny swimsuits. One girl, a particularly well-endowed blonde, was struggling to fit her massive chest into a tight sweater, the tortured tiny she wore as a bikini top gradually disappearing from view. “All the polls say she’s going to win in another landslide. Largely-ugh…” Finished with her top she moved to tugging on jeans that struggled to contain her wide rear, her tight cheeks compacting around her unfortunate thong. “…largely because the tinies are so overwhelmingly in favour of her policies.”
“I know right!” The brunette standing next to Quinn pipped up in response. She was smaller than many of the other lifeguards, though you doubted the one-piece she wore was particularly thankful for it, given the energy with which she bounced around. “The new clinics are now reporting a 100% success rate in helping reticent squishies find their purpose, and they expect that every last graduate is going to be voting for Ms Johnson this time.” The younger woman bounced happily on the balls of her feet, her modest curves jiggling with the movement. “It makes me so happy to know that we’re helping the little squishies find their place. We help them and then they support us in turn.” Her own swimsuit had once been her best friend, and she felt privileged to now be so closely bonded to him.
You wanted desperately to respond to that. To tell the oblivious lifeguard how wrong she was. How wrong this whole system was. But all you could do was listen futilely as you once more started to be pulled into your former roommate’s abyss, trying to distract yourself as an older lifeguard directly across from you laughed deeply at her colleague’s enthusiasm. “All well and good, but if you ask me, Johnson’s most important initiatives are her ideas to address the supply issue. Nowadays…” She paused for a moment to pull hard on the straps of her swimsuit, giving herself a massive wedgie as she bit her teeth. “Nowadays it’s hard just to get your hands on any new product. The last time I was able to score was a year ago. I still want a couple more so I can get Kim to really pad out this suit. The current three are doing their part I guess, but a woman like me needs to be truly pampered.”
By the time your owner spoke up you’d been sucked back in completely, the voices of the others fading away as shorts were pulled up over your prison, and only Quinn’s voice still reaching your crushed ears. “It’s weird to think how much better things have become now for everyone. We used to put so much time and money into imprisoning tinies in a form they didn’t even want. Fighting those who truly had their best interests at heart.” You felt more than saw as a loose t-shirt went over your upper half, the body within you moving back into motion as the pale girl moved to grab her shoes. “Now we can put those resources towards the betterment of society. Helping tinies in the way they really need, and helping the rest of us reach our potential, boosted by our little helpers.”
You didn’t like the sound of any of that, but there was nothing you could do. Trapped in this form, wrapped around Quinn’s body and moving only as she moved. Helplessly carried towards the future. But will your life continue this way, or are there yet more changes to further your torment?
Every last drop of sweat that dripped from your former roommate’s body was yours to absorb, not to mention any other emission that was given the chance to soak into your form. Whatever strange chemicals the polymer that interweaved with your form had been treated with caused it to redirect anything it absorbed back to yourself, forcing your horrendously stretched body to act as a built-in cleaning service and ensuring you wouldn’t even get a break to be cleaned. Quinn was loving every second of it, her hands frequently roaming over your form whenever she was alone, and more than once you had been kept awake by her deep moans and the feeling of her juices soaking into you. As days dragged into weeks, and weeks into month, it was a struggle just to maintain your sanity. To not give into the hopeless reality of your existence as your once-friend became your entire world.
Given that your face was near-constantly buried in Quinn’s massive rear, your knowledge of the outside world was limited to what little you could overhear and the even more limited events you could actually witnesses, usually when your owner was bent over for one reason or another. It was a struggle to keep track of time, but for the first year or so, events continued much as they had when you first arrived at the park. Excited chatter from guests centred frequently around the new laws, and the brave new world that was opening up for their tiny family and friends. Those few who raised dissenting arguments were quickly assured by the majority that the changes were best for everyone, or else shouted down and ridiculed for their foolish beliefs. Eventually, the dissent faded altogether.
More than once you listed in as Quinn apologised to a guest for accidentally stepping or sitting on their tiny, often including a gentle enquiry as to their ownership status and a reminder to keep them close. Though just as often a piece of lost property with possible tiny qualities was handed off to Kim to be either claimed at the lost-and-found, or else added to the park’s expanding inventory. On one memorable occasion you found yourself practically face-to-face with a tiny who couldn’t have been older than nineteen and had found himself trapped between the lifeguard’s cheeks when he had ended up on her chair, smeared across a buttock and relentlessly ground all day as he wept openly. When he was finally peeled free the next morning as Quinn’s nails scratched at a persistent itch, his pleads that he held a valid exemption went unheard, as he was swiftly handed over to Kim to check his records. Though you didn’t know for sure what happened to him, the fact that the park’s supply of rentable swimwear expanded with a new bikini top that same day did not bode well for his fate.
By the time you entered your second year as a one-piece you noticed a marked turndown in the number of alleged unattended tinies, and even a decrease in discussion of the topic. More and more tinies were mentioned in the abstract only, with references to the latest ‘baker-products’ or about how much use could be made of ‘squishy-material’. Even Quinn would join in, chatting amicably with her fellow lifeguards about whether or not the park would increase its ‘supply’ of materials, though noting she wasn’t going to give up or trade in her own swimwear anytime soon. You hated the fact that, despite the continuously dehumanising language, you were just glad you could stay with her. In a twisted way you even found yourself thankful for Kim to have branded you as she had, the name stitched across you saving you more than once from nearly joining another lifeguard’s wardrobe.
Though you witnessed only a small portion of it, the nation and the world at large were becoming more and more accepting of the role of tinies advocated by the self-styled Freedom Movement. The movement was sweeping the globe, it’s ideals adopted far and wide, though not without variation. In many countries, even the semblance of tiny choice had been discarded, if it had ever existed in the first place. Tinies far and wide were being turned into clothing or other objects, either put on sale or forcibly assigned to an owner. Closer to home, the distinctions between general use, specific use and commercial licences had been erased, with any licence now entitling a tiny to ‘choose’ an owner, whether a person or a business, with that owner then able to transfer the contract at will. MP-005478425, formerly known as Hunter Woods, was licenced to Tsunami World, though had been sub-licenced in turn to the use of Quinn Wallace, contingent on her continued employed at the park.
At first, some tinies had tried to escape by taking on a licence with someone they trusted, but those efforts were crushed by the introduction of strict penalties for the failure to use an assigned tiny, including potential prison time and, more importantly, mandatory confiscation of the tiny. Loving family members and friends forced to either use their once treasured tinies or to give them up. It didn’t help that while taking a tiny without permission was still considered a crime, it was treated as a theft against the owner, rather than a crime against the tiny, and one that could be addressed through compensation or substitution of another tiny, rather than the return of the specific tiny. More than one household had lost a family member this way, with little hope of their actual return.
Your best update on the outside world came on a day nearly three years after you had assumed this form, your face given some semblance of relief as Quinn pulled it from her butt and smoothed you out across her large buttocks. With the park having just closed for the day, a number of lifeguards were gathered in the changing room, chatting casually as they slowly pulled on clothing over their tiny swimsuits. One girl, a particularly well-endowed blonde, was struggling to fit her massive chest into a tight sweater, the tortured tiny she wore as a bikini top gradually disappearing from view. “All the polls say she’s going to win in another landslide. Largely-ugh…” Finished with her top she moved to tugging on jeans that struggled to contain her wide rear, her tight cheeks compacting around her unfortunate thong. “…largely because the tinies are so overwhelmingly in favour of her policies.”
“I know right!” The brunette standing next to Quinn pipped up in response. She was smaller than many of the other lifeguards, though you doubted the one-piece she wore was particularly thankful for it, given the energy with which she bounced around. “The new clinics are now reporting a 100% success rate in helping reticent squishies find their purpose, and they expect that every last graduate is going to be voting for Ms Johnson this time.” The younger woman bounced happily on the balls of her feet, her modest curves jiggling with the movement. “It makes me so happy to know that we’re helping the little squishies find their place. We help them and then they support us in turn.” Her own swimsuit had once been her best friend, and she felt privileged to now be so closely bonded to him.
You wanted desperately to respond to that. To tell the oblivious lifeguard how wrong she was. How wrong this whole system was. But all you could do was listen futilely as you once more started to be pulled into your former roommate’s abyss, trying to distract yourself as an older lifeguard directly across from you laughed deeply at her colleague’s enthusiasm. “All well and good, but if you ask me, Johnson’s most important initiatives are her ideas to address the supply issue. Nowadays…” She paused for a moment to pull hard on the straps of her swimsuit, giving herself a massive wedgie as she bit her teeth. “Nowadays it’s hard just to get your hands on any new product. The last time I was able to score was a year ago. I still want a couple more so I can get Kim to really pad out this suit. The current three are doing their part I guess, but a woman like me needs to be truly pampered.”
By the time your owner spoke up you’d been sucked back in completely, the voices of the others fading away as shorts were pulled up over your prison, and only Quinn’s voice still reaching your crushed ears. “It’s weird to think how much better things have become now for everyone. We used to put so much time and money into imprisoning tinies in a form they didn’t even want. Fighting those who truly had their best interests at heart.” You felt more than saw as a loose t-shirt went over your upper half, the body within you moving back into motion as the pale girl moved to grab her shoes. “Now we can put those resources towards the betterment of society. Helping tinies in the way they really need, and helping the rest of us reach our potential, boosted by our little helpers.”
You didn’t like the sound of any of that, but there was nothing you could do. Trapped in this form, wrapped around Quinn’s body and moving only as she moved. Helplessly carried towards the future. But will your life continue this way, or are there yet more changes to further your torment?
copier
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April 23, 2025
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