(Contains various flattenings and squishinings! Also it is my first first-person story - Commission for anonymous, thank you for your support!)
Frankly, I wasn’t certain I’d heard my parents correctly. They were leaving for about a week, that much I understood plenty. A week of the house to myself was practically the dream, but then they’d shattered that dream by telling me there’d be someone here to keep an eye on the house. What they said was they were hiring a house-sitter. I knew what they meant. I protested that I was a legal adult, but they shut that argument down swiftly. Their roof, their rules. So here I waited, moping on the couch while my parents waited for the babysitter to arrive. Some part of me understood – I didn’t exactly have the best track record for taking care of the place, but my pride denied my reason the chance to relent.
Soon enough, the doorbell rang, and my parents let in a young woman. She was pretty, I had to admit. She was tall, aided only slightly by her shoes, with blonde hair styled in slightly curled waves that bounced just a bit with her movements. Her top was cut in a way that showed off her ample chest but wasn’t so overt to alert my parents to some sort of promiscuity. The rest of her attire indicated she cared enough about her appearance, even for what must be a side gig, and I found myself staring a bit despite myself. Eventually, my displeasure at the reason for her being here returned and soured my expression.
“No problem, just leave it to me!” Her tone was sweet and chipper as she bid my parents a good trip before surveying her charge for the week. Eventually her baby blue eyes landed on me, “Hello! My name is Kathryn, nice to meet you,” she greeted in a very polite tone, “I suppose we’ll be roommates the next few days.”
She wasn’t rude, nor did she even draw attention to the fact that she was here to babysit me as much as she was here to watch the house. But that didn’t change my opinions or feelings about here being here, “Yeah, whatever.” I muttered before pressing further, “Don’t act like we’re gonna be buddies. I don’t want or need you here.”
Kathryn blinked, “Okayyyy…” She eased up a little bit, “But your parents do want me here, so we’re going to need to compromise a little bit,” she said, walking past me into the kitchen to set her bag down.
“Not interested,” I said, pushing past her completely unnecessarily. I wanted her to know above all else that I was not going to be buddy-buddy with her. “Isn’t there some boyfriend or something you could blow this job off to go-“
WHAM!
It happened in an instant, surely, but somehow it felt as though it happened in slow motion from my perspective. A shadow had loomed over me, and I glanced up to see something rushing towards me. My arms lifted instinctively to prevent it from striking my face. Instead, my body was subjected to a tremendous amount of force. It sent a shiver through my entire body, and I felt myself give way under the pressure. I felt simultaneously like I was falling and like my legs were rising up to meet my head as I was crushed beneath the weight. My entire form compacted further and further into a seamless, single-layered disc shaped facsimile of my former self. Looking at my thinned form one would be hard pressed to recognize I’d ever had free movement and a three-dimensional human body. My eyes were still pointed upward, granting me vision, but my mouth was lost in the mash of my chest, legs, and arms all far too compressed to have a cohesive use. My stunned expression was framed by my hands, pointed upwards as they had been to prevent my crushing with my chest and rear being the predominant features to the north and south respectively. The only sounds I could emit were pitiful squeaks and partially muffled moans and grunts. My entire form was so dense, so compact, and so very sensitive to the touch as I learned when I was lifted, or peeled as it were, from the floor. Kathryn’s delicate hands gripped my sides, and the tingling sensation that surged through my body when she did shook me to my core, eliciting an unintentional moan from my squished lips. I could feel my entire body flush, as flat as I’d become, embarrassed by the sound I’d just made. My entire form condensed to fit with her hands on either side of me, my middle barely sagging in between. My eyes stared up at her as she began to speak.
“I really didn’t want it to come to this, but if you can’t behave properly, this is what happens,” she said. She was scolding me! After flattening me to a pancake this woman had the gall to lecture me about being polite! Kathryn continued, “If you’re going to keep being rude, you’re going to have to stay just like this.” Her voice was stern, but the feeling of her hands squeezing my unbearably tight body as she spoke was very distracting. I tried to squirm, but nary a movement other than my eyes and my tiny squeaks were released.
Whether she planned on this from the start or found my muffled sounds to be more evidence of being rude, Kathryn made good on her threat of keeping me like this. All throughout the day and into the evening, I remained a pancaked disc of my former self, completely at her whim and mercy. Occasionally she would simply leave me on the couch or on a table, perpetually stuck looking up at the ceiling as I slowly lost track of time until she came by to take me somewhere else or talk to me. During these times I took the opportunity to try to really feel out my compact form. The overwhelming nature of the tightness and sensitivity across my skin had faded enough for me to take stock of myself. That said, it was incredibly hard to pars the sensations. My knees simultaneously touched my feet and the back of my head. My chest stuck out, but I could feel my flattened tongue sticking out of my mouth slightly smooshed into it. No matter how hard I tried, not an inch of my body would reply to my attempts to move. I came to long for Kathryn to save me from my solitary confinement, despite myself.
She would often poke, pinch, or otherwise taunt me for my situation, but it came to be the only stimulation I got all day, and with each goosebump inducing touch, my mind further and further divided into the parts that derived incredible pleasure from the sensation, and the parts that were infuriated at how Kathryn was treating me. These feelings mounted to a crescendo when she lifted me and carried me to the couch, “Now, rude little pancake,” she began, using the nickname she’d referred to me as all day. A glimpse outside showed me that it was dark out. She’d kept me like this all day! Kathryn took a breath as she plopped me unceremoniously onto the couch, “Perhaps this will teach you not to be so abrasive,” she said. Something about her face and tone caused a creeping anxiety to invade my entire body. I didn’t have to wait long to find out what she meant, though. Kathryn turned and lowered herself onto the couch, planting her bottom directly into my face! Heat both from the embarrassment and from the suffocating body heat quickly encompassed my whole being. The tightness in my body redoubled with this new weight on my already flattened physique. I felt every minor adjustment, and so intense was the feeling that my minor vocal ability of moans and squeaks had been utterly driven from me. For the first few minutes she prodded me with little teases, calling me comfortable, a good cushion, and the like, but after a while, she became too engrossed in her movie for her to bother talking to me. So completely I was used and so abruptly I was ignored, that I began to feel a numbness take over my mind. I really was just like an object. By thirty minutes in, I struggled to form coherent thoughts, and it wasn’t long before I began to think of myself as just a cushion, my mind quite literally squeezed of any other identity. I was left there on the couch all night, not even realizing when Kathryn had stopped using me.
I came to on the couch, exactly where she’d left me. My whole body felt stiff, and I stretched my limbs to their limits before getting up, groggy and grumpy both from my poor sleep and the person who I blamed for it. Speaking of Kathryn, she was humming cheerfully to herself as she moved a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer.
She cast a knowing glance at me that made my frustration flare up, “Morning, sleepyhead. How was your nap?”
“Shut up, you know it sucked,” I retorted, still mad at her for what she did to me, and apparently rather unconcerned she might do it again. Or maybe it was something else about that thought I was feeling. Nevertheless, I pressed on, “You can’t just act all friendly-” my words were cut off by a surprised yelp. She had gripped my shirt by the collar and yanked me towards her. Using the momentum and her other hand, she slam-dunked me over her head into the top load washer. Disoriented from being tossed head over heels into a cramped appliance, I didn’t have time to do anything before she shut the top and turned the washer on – heavy load. I was doused with hot water before I felt the chamber begin to spin faster and faster. The speed and heaviness of my soaked clothes kept me pressed against the walls of the machine.
One excruciatingly dizzying wash later, I heard the lid open. I think Kathryn said something about me looking a lot cleaner, but I was focused on trying to keep my stomach from flipping. She reached down into the washer and pulled me out, practically peeling me from the sides of the thing. It was only then, as she held me outstretched, that I took a self-assessment. I had been pressed flat by the force of the washer! My entire body was compressed and soaked through, the breeze from the box fan on the floor causing my towel-like body to billow a bit. Unlike before, the tightness wasn’t all encompassing, rather I retained a vaguely human shape, but pressed flat like a cartoon character who had the door slammed open on them. I attempted to demand she dry me off and return me to normal, but only breathless squeaks escaped my squished lips. She laughed a bit at that, causing my face to flush again. She hung my flattened body from a drying rack to dry off, once again only acknowledging me to tease me as just another article of laundry.
I was once again left flat for the remainder of that day. By the next day, my blood was boiling, and I stormed up to her while she was vacuuming, ready to give her a piece of my mind. I shouted at her, my face turning beet red as I unloaded my frustration, only for her to calmly attach on of the changeable heads to the hose section of the vacuum and shove it directly into my face.
"Such a dirty mouth. I guess I missed a spot, huh?" She teased as the air was sucked from my shouting, and much to my chagrin, so was my body into the tight tube of the vacuum. My head was sucked in very suddenly, causing a bulge in the hose. I had but a moment of freedom to struggle before she turned up the juice and my shoulders were yanked inside, pinning my arms to my sides. By the time my kicking legs were being pulled inside, light hit my eyes. My head was pushed into the clear plastic container for the dust and debris normally meant to be cleaned from the carpets. My head alone filled the entire chamber easily, but the rest of my body did not slow down in its movements, and soon enough I could feel my torso squishing my head, cramping itself into the vacuum. I struggled and squirmed with all my might, but the combined efforts of the vacuum and Kathryn kneading and working my body through the hose sealed my fate. When the whirring of the vacuum ceased, I was securely encased in my plastic prison, face squished wholly against the sides. That familiar sensation of compression was back in a whole new way. My body felt as tight and squeezed as it ever had, yet I retained a 3-D shape, allowing me to more easily identify how my various body parts were precariously touching one another. I felt her detach the container that was my prison, and through the dusty and blurry plastic I saw her grin at me while she perched me on the mantle like some kind of trophy.
"There, now at least you're making the place look nice, huh?" Kathryn knocked on my container with a laugh. Once again, I was left to ponder myself overnight.
The next day, I had time to cool myself off. Obviously rage and belligerency were only going to get me crushed and flattened again. I decided to take a stealthier approach. I greeted her in the morning, even entertaining her joke about how the anger I’d displayed before seemed to have been sucked right out of me. I was polite. Cordial. Patient. Finally, I saw my opportunity to strike. She was distracted, focused on her daily duties, completely unaware that I was sneaking closer… closer… I stifled my diabolical laughter, but once I was ready, I wanted to make sure her expression was satisfying.
“Hey, Kath-cake,” I taunted prematurely, causing her to start to turn, but I made sure it was too late for her to do anything about it.
"What did you call me? Wait! What are you-!?"
WHAM!!
It was quite possibly the most cathartic thing I’d ever done, watching her face turn to surprised discomfort as she was crushed by the overwhelming weight of my vengeance. Once I was certain she was good and flat, I examined her just as she’d done me that first night. I hadn’t been able to look at myself that day, but I thought it was a faithful recreation. She was squished flat against the floor, her face framed by her hands, buttocks, and breasts respectively. The look of shock was still plain on her face as I peeled her from the floor, turning her over in my hands to examine her lack of thickness. It was pretty incredible if you’d asked me, but at the time I really hadn’t much use for her this way.
“You really should have just left that first day.” I told her, listening to her muffled protests and chuckling to myself, “Yknow, they say you can’t fold a paper 7 times, but I think with how flat you’ve become, I could manage at least a few times.” I taunted, silencing her next groan by folding her in half, then again, then again until she was a tightly compacted, slightly bulky shape capable of fitting in an envelope. I stuffed her inside, applied some postage, then went out to tuck her in the mailbox, wondering to myself where mail went without a destination or return address. I shrugged, not really caring much one way or the other anymore.