A World Without Free Tinies
A Shrunken Roommate (Re-upload)
chapter 24
by
copier
· original author:
azazel8
To no-one’s surprise, Melanie Johnson won her second term in a landslide, receiving nearly 100% of the tiny vote and some 90% of the vote overall from a public increasingly in favour of the Freedom Movement’s policies and ideals. Having nearly swept the houses of parliament as well, the party now had the mandate they needed to bring in yet further laws to reinforce their platform. On the bright side you yourself were spared from further changes, unlike other unfortunate tinies, though it was only because you continued to find yourself trapped as a one-piece, with no relief in sight. Left wrapped around your owner’s body while the world once again changed for the worse around you.
The laws around exceptions were tightened overnight, now requiring mandatory admission to an MDPD treatment program. Only those judged to legitimately wish to be human, itself a diagnosis of a long-term psychological disorder, would be granted an exemption, subject to revocation at any time should their condition go into remission. The latter part was largely an unnecessary caveat, since clinic results to date had indicated that every tiny who received treatment would subsequently choose to fulfil their true purpose as an object. It had gone so far that even referring to transformed tinies as if they were human beings had been designated a hate crime, though with minor penalties. Actually attempting to turn one back to human was a serious offence punishable by imprisonment.
More significantly, brave new initiatives were announced to increase the availability of tiny products, including the building of factory-farms that promised to use new artificial reproductive technologies combined with artificial wombs to put tinies into full-production by the end of the year. This would be combined with a new object-education system to train immature tinies in their future roles, and an enjoined adoption program for willing women to provide appropriate care during a tiny’s growth period. While the education system would start to see results within the next years as the current crop of tinies were prepared for harvest, it was anticipated that the factory-farms would show their worth within the next two decades. In the interim, an increasingly large number of tinies would be imported, with less affluent countries selling their own stock for aid and lucrative trade incentives. Even a last few holdouts of independent tinies were lured in by promises of ‘freedom’ in the west.
For yourself, you learned of all of this in snippets of overheard conversations across the few months following the election, mostly from the more enthusiastic lifeguards. This came alongside the near total disappearance of any tinies wandering the park, accompanied or otherwise. There were no further apologies from Quinn for accidentally squished families and friends, save for a small number of tiny children accompanying their mothers, whom themselves were usually kept quite close to their parent. The one time your wearer did find a single adult tiny hiding beneath one of the slides, she wasted no time dragging him out and bringing him to the lost and found, silencing his pleas for mercy as she rolled him into a ball and tossed him to the younger lifeguard on duty at the desk.
Closer to home, Quinn was about to turn thirty, something you became aware of as she lamented to herself one night how she wanted to do more with her life. Despite an initial apathy, she’d come to love her job as a lifeguard, being able to help people while enjoying the great outdoors. Yet, as the years wore on, she increasingly found herself wanting to form a stronger connection with someone. You’d been aware of your owner going on dates before, often tagging along beneath her clothes, yet after that night the rate at which she would do so notably increased. Increasingly you found yourself hanging in Quinn’s closet as she donned more provocative underwear, and more than once you had no choice but to listen in as she and some unknown partner fornicated on the pale woman’s bed. Passioned words were breathy and indistinct through the wood, though there were times when you felt that you almost recognised a voice from your past. Or perhaps you were just imagining things.
For the first time in years, you started to spend almost as much time in the closet as you did being worn. Increasingly you found your roll as casual underwear and sleepwear replaced with unthinking alternatives, relegated primarily to work and exercise. Sometimes you were even left behind in the locker room after a shift, not being reclaimed until the next morning. Though you were well and truly past any chance of reforming on your own, or even vocalising your distress, it was a relief just to be free from the constant strain and pressure of being stretched around Quinn’s warm body. Of feeling her heartbeat pumping through you as if it was your own. Of embracing her closer and more completely than you had ever imagined you would be able to embrace a woman. Of feeling like…
If your body was capable of it, you would have shaken your head to rid your mind of those thoughts, cursing yourself for almost missing the sensation of being worn. Yet as months dragged on, the relief that had come over you when taken off was increasingly being replaced by a sense of emptiness. The dread of being worn gave way to a little rush of excitement every time you were put on again. Every time you tried to remind yourself that you didn’t want to be an object. That your body and mind was just playing tricks on you. That no matter how warm it made you to feel yourself wrapped around Quinn’s supple body, permeating you even when the both of you were in the water, at your core you wanted to be more than just her one-piece. After all, there was more than one way to be with her.
Increasingly you retreated into your own mind, the times you were embracing your owner mostly spent lost in the sensation of it, while in her closet you fought an internal battle to retain your sense of identity. It had been so long now that your mind was beginning to twist facts, your life before that fateful day you met Quinn becoming increasingly irrelevant, just a blur of moments when you were briefly useful to your mother, sister and aunt. Your owner loved you, didn’t she? Hadn’t you been lovers before you became her thong and later one-piece? There had been two other women as well, but in the end you had chosen to stay with Quinn, right? Surely you meant more to her than just a one-piece. Or at least, she loved you as a one-piece because she knew it was you she kept close.
You’d become so trapped in your own logical inconsistencies you failed to notice the increasingly chipper attitude with which your lifeguard went about her work, or the increased time she was spending away from her home and you. So you were caught by surprise when one day, once more winding down from a long day with her fellow lifeguards, Quinn casually dropped the bomb that she was planning to get married. Dead silence met the announcement at first, following by squeals of excitement and a crushing force as you found your hands squeezed against your owner’s breasts by one hug after another. Congratulations abounded while you fought to absorb this new information, made only worse as the now thirty-two-year-old noted that she was also looking to take advantage of the new reproductive technologies championed by the Freedom Movement to have a daughter.
You tried to remember the last time Quinn had actually spoken to you directly, and whether she’d said anything about the two of you getting married soon. Sometimes it felt like you hadn’t spoken in years, but that couldn’t be right. For a moment you entertained the dreadful thought that she was talking about someone else, but when Kim asked how the two of you had met, your lover noted that you had been roommates before she started at the park. That was right, wasn’t it? You had been roommates with Quinn once, though you could not recall it was before or after you had become lovers. Certainly it was before you had gifted yourself to her as a thong. You did wonder how she was going to bear your child, but you could admit you were a bit out of touch with technology these days. And besides, above all, you were just happy to receive this acknowledgement. Even if it was sudden, you felt you were read to start a family, and would love your daughter with all your heart.
And yet… as more questions were asked and answered you noted certain inconsistencies with the way Quinn was speaking of your past. The way she spoke it was as if you had lost touch for some time and only reconnected over the last couple of years. But hadn’t you been here all along? And why did she mention events you couldn’t recall, or an engagement ring you did not recall receiving? Worse, the name that would leave her lips occasionally didn’t sound like yours. It had been so long since you’d heard your own name, and it did sound familiar, but it was wrong somehow. Were you just mistaken and that had been your name all along? That sinking feeling that she may have been talking about someone else returned, and this time you couldn’t force it down. Was it possible that the woman who had become your entire world had found someone she loved more than you?
While you suffer through an existential crisis, what does the future hold in store for you? Will Quinn remain at Tsunami Land or leave. And if she leaves, are you fated to be separated from your owner?
The laws around exceptions were tightened overnight, now requiring mandatory admission to an MDPD treatment program. Only those judged to legitimately wish to be human, itself a diagnosis of a long-term psychological disorder, would be granted an exemption, subject to revocation at any time should their condition go into remission. The latter part was largely an unnecessary caveat, since clinic results to date had indicated that every tiny who received treatment would subsequently choose to fulfil their true purpose as an object. It had gone so far that even referring to transformed tinies as if they were human beings had been designated a hate crime, though with minor penalties. Actually attempting to turn one back to human was a serious offence punishable by imprisonment.
More significantly, brave new initiatives were announced to increase the availability of tiny products, including the building of factory-farms that promised to use new artificial reproductive technologies combined with artificial wombs to put tinies into full-production by the end of the year. This would be combined with a new object-education system to train immature tinies in their future roles, and an enjoined adoption program for willing women to provide appropriate care during a tiny’s growth period. While the education system would start to see results within the next years as the current crop of tinies were prepared for harvest, it was anticipated that the factory-farms would show their worth within the next two decades. In the interim, an increasingly large number of tinies would be imported, with less affluent countries selling their own stock for aid and lucrative trade incentives. Even a last few holdouts of independent tinies were lured in by promises of ‘freedom’ in the west.
For yourself, you learned of all of this in snippets of overheard conversations across the few months following the election, mostly from the more enthusiastic lifeguards. This came alongside the near total disappearance of any tinies wandering the park, accompanied or otherwise. There were no further apologies from Quinn for accidentally squished families and friends, save for a small number of tiny children accompanying their mothers, whom themselves were usually kept quite close to their parent. The one time your wearer did find a single adult tiny hiding beneath one of the slides, she wasted no time dragging him out and bringing him to the lost and found, silencing his pleas for mercy as she rolled him into a ball and tossed him to the younger lifeguard on duty at the desk.
Closer to home, Quinn was about to turn thirty, something you became aware of as she lamented to herself one night how she wanted to do more with her life. Despite an initial apathy, she’d come to love her job as a lifeguard, being able to help people while enjoying the great outdoors. Yet, as the years wore on, she increasingly found herself wanting to form a stronger connection with someone. You’d been aware of your owner going on dates before, often tagging along beneath her clothes, yet after that night the rate at which she would do so notably increased. Increasingly you found yourself hanging in Quinn’s closet as she donned more provocative underwear, and more than once you had no choice but to listen in as she and some unknown partner fornicated on the pale woman’s bed. Passioned words were breathy and indistinct through the wood, though there were times when you felt that you almost recognised a voice from your past. Or perhaps you were just imagining things.
For the first time in years, you started to spend almost as much time in the closet as you did being worn. Increasingly you found your roll as casual underwear and sleepwear replaced with unthinking alternatives, relegated primarily to work and exercise. Sometimes you were even left behind in the locker room after a shift, not being reclaimed until the next morning. Though you were well and truly past any chance of reforming on your own, or even vocalising your distress, it was a relief just to be free from the constant strain and pressure of being stretched around Quinn’s warm body. Of feeling her heartbeat pumping through you as if it was your own. Of embracing her closer and more completely than you had ever imagined you would be able to embrace a woman. Of feeling like…
If your body was capable of it, you would have shaken your head to rid your mind of those thoughts, cursing yourself for almost missing the sensation of being worn. Yet as months dragged on, the relief that had come over you when taken off was increasingly being replaced by a sense of emptiness. The dread of being worn gave way to a little rush of excitement every time you were put on again. Every time you tried to remind yourself that you didn’t want to be an object. That your body and mind was just playing tricks on you. That no matter how warm it made you to feel yourself wrapped around Quinn’s supple body, permeating you even when the both of you were in the water, at your core you wanted to be more than just her one-piece. After all, there was more than one way to be with her.
Increasingly you retreated into your own mind, the times you were embracing your owner mostly spent lost in the sensation of it, while in her closet you fought an internal battle to retain your sense of identity. It had been so long now that your mind was beginning to twist facts, your life before that fateful day you met Quinn becoming increasingly irrelevant, just a blur of moments when you were briefly useful to your mother, sister and aunt. Your owner loved you, didn’t she? Hadn’t you been lovers before you became her thong and later one-piece? There had been two other women as well, but in the end you had chosen to stay with Quinn, right? Surely you meant more to her than just a one-piece. Or at least, she loved you as a one-piece because she knew it was you she kept close.
You’d become so trapped in your own logical inconsistencies you failed to notice the increasingly chipper attitude with which your lifeguard went about her work, or the increased time she was spending away from her home and you. So you were caught by surprise when one day, once more winding down from a long day with her fellow lifeguards, Quinn casually dropped the bomb that she was planning to get married. Dead silence met the announcement at first, following by squeals of excitement and a crushing force as you found your hands squeezed against your owner’s breasts by one hug after another. Congratulations abounded while you fought to absorb this new information, made only worse as the now thirty-two-year-old noted that she was also looking to take advantage of the new reproductive technologies championed by the Freedom Movement to have a daughter.
You tried to remember the last time Quinn had actually spoken to you directly, and whether she’d said anything about the two of you getting married soon. Sometimes it felt like you hadn’t spoken in years, but that couldn’t be right. For a moment you entertained the dreadful thought that she was talking about someone else, but when Kim asked how the two of you had met, your lover noted that you had been roommates before she started at the park. That was right, wasn’t it? You had been roommates with Quinn once, though you could not recall it was before or after you had become lovers. Certainly it was before you had gifted yourself to her as a thong. You did wonder how she was going to bear your child, but you could admit you were a bit out of touch with technology these days. And besides, above all, you were just happy to receive this acknowledgement. Even if it was sudden, you felt you were read to start a family, and would love your daughter with all your heart.
And yet… as more questions were asked and answered you noted certain inconsistencies with the way Quinn was speaking of your past. The way she spoke it was as if you had lost touch for some time and only reconnected over the last couple of years. But hadn’t you been here all along? And why did she mention events you couldn’t recall, or an engagement ring you did not recall receiving? Worse, the name that would leave her lips occasionally didn’t sound like yours. It had been so long since you’d heard your own name, and it did sound familiar, but it was wrong somehow. Were you just mistaken and that had been your name all along? That sinking feeling that she may have been talking about someone else returned, and this time you couldn’t force it down. Was it possible that the woman who had become your entire world had found someone she loved more than you?
While you suffer through an existential crisis, what does the future hold in store for you? Will Quinn remain at Tsunami Land or leave. And if she leaves, are you fated to be separated from your owner?
copier
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April 23, 2025
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