Brushed Away

She bought the brush on impulse, at a garage sale in an old part of town.  Something about the old paintbrush called to her - perhaps the obvious care that had gone into crafting its handle.  The metal-lined case that it was displayed in wasn't that bad looking, either.

Of course, once she got it home she had to try it out - and was sorely disappointed. For all the bristles looked shiny and new, it didn't pick up paint at all.  She brushed her fingers along the bristles experimentally, to see if there was something wrong.

Indeed there was, but nothing that she could have expected.  For, where her fingertips had touched the brush, they simply vanished.  The tips of the three longest fingers on her left hand were... gone.

She stared at them in shock for a few moments, waiting for blood, or pain, or she knew not what.  But they just sat there, reduced to fleshy nubs at her knuckles, looking as if they'd always been that way.  She gingerly put the brush back in its tray, and still without moving her left hand, touched a fingertip to the stub of her left forefinger.

It didn't feel any different, really - just that there was nothing where her fingertip had been.  Pressing on it more firmly it wasn't sore, or anything, just... gone.

She carefully closed up the tin of latex paint she'd been intending to use, and put it away.  The shelves could wait a bit longer for their fresh coat of paint, she figured.  There was a mystery to solve, and only one place she'd be likely to find answers.

So she got back into her car, brush in tow, and tried to find the place she'd bought it.  Her garage-saling that day had been fairly random, and the roads in the area she'd been in were anything but straight.  She drove for hours, until it was getting quite dark, and never found the house she'd been at.

Half an hour later she was finally back on roads she recognized, and ten minutes after that she pulled into her driveway.  She'd been trying to ignore her missing fingertips the entire time, but on the drive home it had become harder and harder.

Now that she was home, all she wanted to do was cry.  What was she going to do?  Her fingertips were gone, along with the fingernails.  It looked so odd to see three nails just plain missing, and she was sure everyone she knew would comment on it as soon as they saw it.  Work would be bad enough, but how would it be to go out to a club and have everyone staring at her hand?

She giggled softly through her tears.  It would be a change from having every guy talk to her chest, anyway.

She sighed, straightened herself up a bit, and marched inside.  Life would look a bit better with a cup of tea inside her, and then some food.

It was while washing up before preparing dinner that she noticed it.  A couple of white flakes fell into the sink from her hands, looking for all the world like... paint flakes?  She looked down at her hands, wondering if she'd missed a smudge of paint from when she'd closed the can.  Instead she saw that the index finger of her left hand was back.

A bit of scrubbing and several more paint flakes later, all her fingers were restored. She laughed giddily, dancing around the kitchen like a madwoman.

After dinner, she washed up after herself.  She scrubbed at her left hand a couple of extra times, nervously worrying that she might have left some gaps.  That reminded her of the brush and she went back out to her car to fetch it.

For some time, she sat and stared at it, wondering if she'd just imagined the strangeness of the day.  Then she resolved to test it out on that ugly shelf in the pantry, over the washing machine.  She'd bought the paint to make it look nicer, but gone would be even better.  Especially if she could 'wash' it back to keep the landlord from complaining.

So out came the little pot of paint, again.  This time she watched carefully as she dipped the brush.  There *did* seem to be the tiniest drop in the paint level.  A few strokes along the ugly old shelf showed that she hadn't been imagining things.  It was disappearing!  She waved her left hand through the space to make sure.   It was real, half the shelf was gone.

Before she had managed to vanish the entire shelf, the brush stopped working.  Her lips curled in a moue of disappointment until she remembered the paint.  Dipping the brush again, the project was quickly completed.  Even the holes in the wall had vanished, with a feathered touch of the brush.  Except in one spot - she'd managed to erase a bit of wall while getting one of the mounting brackets.  A few moments work with a damp paper towel fixed that up nicely, though.

She wondered if she should rinse the brush - she was pretty sure there was still some paint left in it.  An experimental wipe with the paper towel confirmed that guess, so she turned to her pantry/laundry room sink.  White paint gushed out of the brush for a few seconds as she ran it under the water, then it ran clean.  She smiled - much easier to clean up than a regular brush!

Testing the bristles cautiously with her left hand showed that they were already dry. She whisked the brush over her fingers a few times, enjoying the feel of it - she had no idea what the bristles were, but they were soft and fine and glossy.  She imagined what it would be like to whisk away her hand like that, then stopped and stared.

Was she really thinking this?  She'd been so worried, before.  But that was before she knew that it could be fixed.  Now, well... it wasn't like it was permanent, right?  And it would certainly be a change from just sitting around on a Sunday night.

Before she really knew what she was doing, the brush had been dipped into the tin again. Two quick whisks later, and the fingers and thumb of her left hand were... gone.

She wiggled her palm at herself, giggling again.  "Cool."  Turning it back and forth, she noticed the little mole that had always bothered her, but never enough to have it removed.  Thinking of the holes in the wall, she tried carefully erasing just the mole.

It worked, but left a strange spot on her hand where the brushstroke had crossed it.  Looking closer, she realized that she'd not only erased the mole, but all the fine hairs around it as well.  Even the pores were gone.  All it took was the most delicate of feather-licks with the brush, rather than sweeping it through like she'd done with her fingers.

Her eyes lit up.  "This has some serious potential!" she exclaimed to herself.

She washed her left fingers back into existence, and moved paint tin, brush, and metal brush-case into the bathroom.  She was pretty sure keeping the brush-case handy would be wise, as it seemed the only thing safe to set the brush down on when it was full of paint.

She stripped down very carefully, and looked her body over.  There were plenty of blemishes she'd like to deal with, and that little bit of extra padding around her waist... could the brush do something about that, too?  Other than that, though... she was actually pretty happy with her body.  Not bad for someone her age.  Even to herself, she still thought '29', though that was no longer really true.  She could wish for slightly larger breasts, but who didn't?  She idly wished the brush could do something about that, but shrugged.  It could do plenty.

The blemishes were attacked first - every mole and childhood scar was erased from her body. For giggles, she erased her nipples as well, and all the hair around her pussy.  She grinned at the look.  "I'm a mannequin!" she declared, and posed herself in the mirror.  She frowned. "Something's missing... seams!  I bet I can do seams, too."  The brush created divots around her arms and hips, but she sighed.  It didn't look anything like mannequin seams, just uneven trenches.  "Foo.  I need someone to paint me."

She washed away her playful changes, and looked herself over critically.  Blemish-free, yes. But... she looked like a patchwork.  Everywhere she'd made a blemish vanish, there was a patch of shiny, perfectly smooth skin.  As with the mole on the back of her hand, all the surface features of her skin were gone.  She kind of liked the look, and very carefully skimmed her way down each arm, evening them out.  It wasn't as easy as she'd thought, and she had to restore her right arm several times.  The first time she'd even managed to erase her elbow, finding that quite odd.  Her forearm didn't fall, there was just a gap where her elbow had been.

She looked herself over again, turning back and forth in the bathroom mirror.  "Not bad. Still need to deal with that tummy, though."  She doubted that she should try to make her whole body look like her arms, however.  She was pretty sure that being unable to sweat anywhere would be pretty bad.  Summer was a while off yet, though...

After dipping the brush to get a good dose of paint on it, she attacked her tummy.  Her first try went much too far, and by the time she got it evened out, it looked like she was wearing an impossibly tight corset.  "I bet Emmy would like this look.  She'd kill to be able to fit into a corset this small."  Before she restored herself, she dug out her camera and took an artfully framed picture of herself in the mirror.

It took several washings and re-paintings before she was happy with her waist, and of course that meant that her hands had been washed clean again...  So she went back to work on getting them all perfect and shiny once more.

She posed in the mirror some more, then took more pictures. She didn't think she could go out in public looking this way, but it would be fun to remember, and perhaps share it with the right person.

By this time it was getting quite late, so she went through her evening rituals, and made her way to bed.  After yet again touching up her hands.  She closed up the tin, rinsed the brush, and put everything away in the vanity.

In the morning, without thinking about it, she showered all her carefully-made changes off.  It wasn't until the steam had cleared from the mirror that she realized it.  "Ah well, it's for the best.  Work isn't ready for that look.  And I’m certainly not ready for that look at work."

Before she left for work, though, she did take the time to email the first picture to her clubbing friend, Emmy.

The week dragged on the way it always did.  Emmy emailed a reply, amused that she'd sent a naked picture of herself, and asking what sort of editing software she'd used.  She promised to give more details when they hit the clubs on Friday.  They carried on chattering about the sort of people they wanted to meet, the clothes they would wear... all the usual.

When Friday rolled around, Emmy suggested a new club.  "I'll come by at seven to help get you ready for it."

"Ready for what?"

"You'll see, Jill.  After that picture you sent, I think you're ready."

Emmy arrived a bit after 7, in a slick and shiny black outfit that Jill had never seen before.

"Wow!  You look amazing in that," Jill gushed.

Emmy grinned.  "Thanks.  Do you have anything that might even come close to this?  Where we're going, this look is definitely in."

Jill sighed, and shook her head.  "Not really, no.  I have a leather dress, though.  Would that be close enough?"

"Try it on," Emmy urged.  "We'll see."

A few minutes later Jill emerged from her bedroom in a tight black leather dress that obviously was a few years old.  She didn't quite fit it any more.

Emmy didn't say anything, but her wince was expressive enough.

"No?"

"Look at yourself.  Plus, it's nowhere near shiny enough."

Jill sighed, deflating a bit.  "But I..."

"I'm sorry.  Maybe we can go shopping tomorrow?"

Jill tilted her head to one side, then grinned lopsidedly.  "No.  Friday night is clubbing night, and we're going.  Give me a few minutes, I can fix this."

It was more than a few minutes, but when she finally emerged from the bathroom, the dress fit like a glove.  And while it wasn't as shiny as Emmy's PVC, it certainly had much more of a sheen than earlier.

"What did you *do* in there?  Is that even the same dress?"

"Not telling, and yes."

Emmy looked closely at her friend's arms.  "And how did you get *those* so shiny?"

Jill got even closer and whispered in Emmy's ear, "I'll show you when we get back."

* * *

The club was an eye-opening for Jill.  Literally - she spent the entire time with her eyes as wide as saucers, doing her best not to stare at people in far more outlandish outfits than their own.  All glossy, many quite erotic.

In particular, the two girls in riding harnesses and peculiar gloves caught her attention.  Those, she did stare at.

There was dancing and music, but Jill remembered little of it.  Emmy was busy greeting friends, and introducing Jill around.  Everyone seemed a bit amused, and quite tolerant of Jill's naivety.  Several complimented her on her 'gloves', and inquired about the material.

Before long, Emmy spirited her away again.  "I think that's enough of that.
Blink, sweetie.  Your eyes have probably dried out by now."

Jill blinked rapidly as the walked to the car, then shook her head as if to clear it.  "That was...  What *was* that?"

"A fetish club.  Latex, mostly.  More than a bit of bondage, too."

Jill stared off into nowhere, and nearly walked off the curb.  "And those girls?  The ones with the... bridles?"

Emmy tugged Jill back onto the sidewalk.  "Pony-girls.  Some people get off on being someone else's pet."

"Oh."  Jill was silent for the rest of the trip back to her place.

When Emmy pulled up in front of Jill's place, Jill shook herself out of her thoughts.  "Come inside.  I promised to show you how I did this dress, after all..."

Emmy grinned broadly.  "I thought you might have forgotten.  I'm dying to know."  As they walked up to the front door she asked, "Does it have anything to do with that picture you sent?"

Jill nodded, and let the two of them in.  She looked around the living room, and shook her head.  "Not here.  Come on through to the bedroom, we can get some privacy there."

Emmy's grin broadened.  "Ooh la la."

Jill blushed as she led Emmy deeper into the house.  She ducked into the bathroom to pick up the brush and paint-can, then guided Emmy to her bedroom.  Once there, she made sure that the drapes were all closed.

"OK, now you're starting to freak me out a bit."

"I haven't even begun."

"I thought I was supposed to be the one freaking the mundane tonight."

Jill chuckled softly.  "Oh, you did a good job of that.  And gave me *so* many new ideas of what to do with this."  She brandished the paintbrush at Emmy.

Emmy frowned.  "It's a brush.  Were you planning to paint me with latex?  Because I've done that before.  Bodypaint, too."

Jill grinned.  "Not like this, you haven't.  This brush... erases things."

Emmy laughed out loud.  "Seriously.  You can't believe me to expect that."

Jill stared down at the brush as she moved closer to Emmy.  "I didn't at first.  But you can't deny the evidence of your senses.  There's only one way you'll really believe it's real."

Emmy backed up towards the bedroom door.  "You're making me nervous, girl.  What are you on about?"

Jill smiled, a fey and slightly crooked thing.  "Just hold out your hand.  It doesn't hurt."

Emmy slowly reached for the brush with her right hand.  Jill brushed it over her fingers gently, caressingly... and then her fingers were gone.  For a long time Emmy just stared silently at the place where they had been.  Then she tried to wiggle them.  "Jill?"

"Yes?"

"I can't feel my fingers."

"That's because they're not there."

"Oh."  A long pause.  "Where are they?"

"Gone.  I don't know."

In a very little voice Emmy asked, "may i have them back, please?"

Jill pointed to the ensuite.  "It washes off."

Emmy darted in, and cheered when her fingers came back.  "Yes!  I..."  

She slowly walked back into the bedroom, and met Jill's eyes.  "That's how you made the picture, didn't you?"

Jill nodded.

"I could fit into *any* corset."

Jill nodded again.

"I'm going to need a new wardrobe."

Jill chuckled.  "You're not seeing the big picture, here.  It can erase *anything*.  Moles.  Scars.  Nipples, even."

Emmy looked at her, eyes wide.  "You..."

Jill nodded.  "I played with it a bit.  I want to play with it a lot more.  Do you?  Will you?"  She holds the brush out to Emmy.

Emmy takes it, uncertainly at first.  "What do you..."  She sees Jill's arms extended toward her.  "Your hands?"

Jill nodded, eyes bright.  "For starters.  Make me a ponygirl, no hands, no feet..."

Emmy nodded sharply.  "As you wish."  She gently stroked the brush over Jill's proffered hands, erasing them to the wrist.  "Oh, that looks so wild..."

Jill grinned.  "It feels even wilder."

Emmy pushed Jill toward the bed.  "Sit."  It was definitely an order.  Jill sat, and watched as her feet went the way of her hands.  Emmy grinned up at her.  "This is fun.  Should I stop?"

Jill shook her head, eyes glittering.  Emmy carried on up Jill's right leg, but just as she reached her knee, she was forced to stop.  "It's not working any more.  Awwww."

"There's a pot of paint on the side table.  Dip it in and it's good for more.  Do my arms next!"

Emmy raised an eyebrow at Jill's tone.  After she'd reloaded the brush she turned to her with a stern face.  "Who's in charge here?"

Jill looked down at her abbreviated body.  Waited a moment.  "You are."

"Good.  Don't forget that."  Emmy erased the other leg to the knee, as well.  Then both arms, to the elbow.  "Now let's see you walk!"  She put the brush away as Jill flailed about on the bed.  Eventually she got right way up, but couldn't really manage to move very well.

Jill flopped back down on the bed under Emmy's watchful gaze.  "This isn't as much fun as I thought it'd be."

Emmy grinned, and nodded.  "Let that be your first lesson, then.  Being helpless can be a bit scary, it depends on trust.  Do you trust me?"

Jill twisted, and rolled to her back.  She looked up at Emmy, staring into her eyes.  Then she nodded.  "Yes."

"Good.  I won't betray that trust.  But part of the fun is the feeling of danger, so I *will* make you sweat.  Just remember - if it goes too far, and you're truly scared or panicking, just say 'safeword'."

"Safeword?"  Jill asked, curiously.

"Yes.  Don't say it again unless you mean it.  If you'd like we can pick another word, but that's the easiest to remember."

Jill nodded.  "Okay.  Obviously you've given this some thought."

"The community has, yes.  Safety is very important."

Jill looked down at her reduced limbs.  "This is safe?"

Emmy shrugged.  "It's reversible.  And there's something about a helpless woman... you look so hot like that."

Jill's eyes widened as Emmy approached with the brush again, but she didn't erase skin with it.  Instead, she used it to erase a gap down the front of Jill's dress, and put the brush aside.  "You know how to stop me, if you want to..."

Jill gasped softly as her friend pulled her dress off, then moaned as she caressed her stumps.  "Don't stop..."

"I've wanted to do this for a long time," Emmy murmured, as she leaned in to kiss her helpless friend.  Jill squeaked softly into the kiss, then relaxed and started to enjoy herself.

They discovered a few things in their explorations.  They found out that Jill was more than just bi-curious.  They found out that the brush could shape a hand into a very effective dildo - especially so because it could wiggle.  They also found out that both vaginal fluids and saliva could unerase things, and that the latter didn't taste good at all.

* * *

In the morning, Jill was still a eraser-pony-girl.  She tried to wake Emmy, but found out that her friend was a very deep sleeper.  Sighing, she wriggled her way out of the bed, and scuttled toward the ensuite.  She was quite pleased with how well she was managing.

Of course, getting at water in the ensuite wasn't trivial.  The sink was hard to reach, and turning one of the taps would be impossible without a hand.  The handle for the shower was even higher up, but at least it was a lever, and moved fairly easily.  The problem was that erased knees don't really have good traction, and Jill kept falling down in the shower.  But on her sixth try, she managed to bat the lever just a bit, and a trickle of cold water started to fall onto her.

Emmy clapped softly from the doorway.  "Very good, pet.  Next time we'll have to use a paint that isn't water-soluble."

Jill just stared at her for a long, long time as the water slowly restored her arms.  "Sorry.  Come again?"

"Says here on the tin - washes up with water.  But I know there are paints that are waterproof."

Jill shivered, and not entirely from the cold water.  "But I'd be... stuck..."  She shivered a bit harder.

Emmy shrugged.  "Maybe.  Maybe not.  There's always paint thinner."

"We *have* to go shopping.  But first, could you help me shower?"

Emmy grinned.  "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Emmy and Jill had never had such fun in a hardware store in their life.  So many paints to choose from!

"Emmy," whispered Jill, "do you suppose it matters what colour the paint is?"

Emmy shrugged.  "Not a clue.  You're the one who found it!"

"Maybe we should get a few of these little sample pots, then."

Emmy walked over to the grizzled old man at the paint counter, and struck up a conversation.  He was quite forthcoming—volubly so—about the virtues and shortcomings of every type of paint in the store.  Following his advice, she picked up one small tin of oil paint, and one of lacquer.

Jill had an armload of little tins of varying types and hues, looking rather overwhelmed.  "I don't know which ones to get!" she cried to her friend.  Emmy deftly picked out three different finishes of latex paint, and a two of the more attractive sample colour pots.

"Let's get this paid for and get out of here."

* * *

Back at Jill's place they swiftly retreated to the bedroom, where the blinds were still firmly closed.  Emmy stripped in front of Jill, and made a production of getting out of her underthings, leaving Jill blushing.

Emmy grinned wickedly at Jill.  "Well?  What are you waiting for?"  Jill blushed even brighter, but started stripping.  While she was doing that, Emmy opened a tin of paint and got the brush loaded.  She tested the brush on her bra, grinning at how slick and shiny it came out.

"Look, Jill!  The glossy paint makes it come out much smoother."

Jill was soon oohing over the texture of it.  "Neat!  I had no idea...  Do me next!  I want to be a mannequin, and that'll do the trick."

Emmy shook her head, and pressed the brush into Jill's hands.  "My turn."

Jill looked at her blankly for several seconds.  "What?"

Emmy perched on the edge of the bed.  "Another new word for you.  Switch."

"Switch?"

"I enjoy being the one tied up, too."

"Oh!"

"And I think you'd make a pretty decent top, given a chance."

Another blank stare.

"You do want to erase me, don't you?"

Jill's eyes got wide.  "All of..."

Emmy inhaled sharply, then got a distant look.  "Uh... just the arms and legs, like I did with you.  For now, anyway."

Jill stepped forward, and kneeled before Emmy.  "Who's in charge here?"

Emmy smiled.  "You are."

"Give me your legs."  Jill started painting, giggling slightly as she delicately licked Emmy's toes away with the brush.  Emmy cooed softly above her, encouraging her to continue.  Little flicks and licks here and there, back and forth.  Before long Emmy's feet looked like swiss cheese, and not long after that broad strokes of the brush made them cease to exist.

"Oh, gods.  That feels...  Let me see!  Let me see!"

Jill looked up at Emmy, a slight frown on her face.  "Pushy, aren't we?"

Emmy granted her a saucy wink.  "Always have been, always will be."

Jill chuckled.  "Fine.  Take a look."  And while Emmy was admiring her ankles in the absence of the feet they usually topped, Jill tickled at her fingers with the brush.

Emmy gasped softly when she noticed.  And while she was staring at the stump of her left hand, her right was going.  Jill kept it up for a while, darting here and there as Emmy boggled anew at her shrinking limbs.  She was getting a feel for when the brush would run out, and dipped it anew before she did.  She stopped after finishing off the knees and elbows.  Emmy was panting softly, lying back on the bed and squirming.

"Careful, or you'll make me mess up the sheets."

Emmy looked up at her with lust in her eyes.  "Just fuck me."

Jill grinned down wickedly.  "No."

"No?"

"I'm not done yet."

Emmy looked up at her friend's stiff nipples. "You're... getting off on this."

"Oh heck yeah.  Part of me wants to reduce you to a..."  She blushed bright red.

"A toy?"

Jill nodded, cheeks flaming even brighter.

"And you'd fuck yourself with me?"

Jill nodded again.

"Ohhhh, fuck."  Emmy laid back on the bed and shivered.

Jill leaned in close, brush in hand, and moving towards Emmy's head.  But before it touched her mouth, Emmy lurched back and cried out, "Safeword!  Safeword!"

Jill yelped softly, and pulled back as if burned.  "Oh!  I'm sorry."

Emmy panted for a bit, staring up at Jill.  "Oh gods...  I want that, but...  If you erase my mouth, I can't say it.  And... I'm not quite ready for that just yet."

Jill nodded, slowly.  "So... later?"

Emmy slumped back onto the bed.  "Maybe.  I think so.  If it's... safe."

Jill looked puzzled.  "Safe?  But we've established that it's..."

"What if you erase my nose, too?  How do I breathe?"

Jill frowned.  "I don't know.  But..."  She slashed the brush through her left wrist, and showed the gap to Emmy.  "I'm pretty sure it can handle it.  There's nothing giving blood to my hand, but it still feels warm."  She cupped Emmy's breast with her separated hand.

"Oh, wow.  Why doesn't it fall?"

"Not a clue."

Emmy looked at the gap, curious.  "What happens when you tug on it?"

"Nothing, I think."  Jill carefully set the brush down in its tray, and then gave her left hand a sharp jerk.  She screamed as it pulled away, falling onto Emmy's belly.  

Emmy screeched once in surprise, then tried to take control of the situation.
"Jill.  Jill!  Does it hurt?  What's wrong?"  She tried to reach up and give Jill a shake, but ended up just flailing her limbs helplessly.

Jill started giggling.  She picked up her hand, and wiggled its fingers.  "Um.  Well.  I guess it *isn't* as well attached as I thought.  But I can still move it.  Still feel with it."  A wicked grin spread across her face as some of the implications played out in her mind.

Emmy grinned too, then interrupted Jill's reverie.  "Maybe you should see if you can reattach it, first."

Jill stuck the hand's stump against her empty wrist.  "See?  It's fine."  She wiggled it about, and then frowned down at it.  "No it's not.  My left arm is shorter than my right, now."

Emmy looked at Jill's wrist for a bit then nodded.  "I think you're right.  So... it just stuck back on?"

"Yeah.  But... how do I fix it?"

"Never mind that - do the same thing to my boobs!"

"Shrink them?"

Emmy lurched a bit on the bed.  "No!  Take them off and see if you can stick 'em somewhere else!"

Jill blinked for a few moments, as she considered the possibilities.  "Oh, this will be so cool!"  The brush slipped behind Emmy's breasts easily, and she tugged them free.  "But... where?"  Jokingly, she held them up to her own somewhat larger breasts.  "Nah, I don't need them."

"Give me yours, then!" Emmy piped up.

Jill looked down at her chest, toyed with the idea for a minute.  Then, "Nah.  Maybe later we can go clubbing in each other's clothes."

She tried sticking Emmy's breasts on the limb-deficient woman's belly, but try as she might they wouldn't stick.  "Well, that sucks.  I wonder why it isn't working."

Emmy shrugged.  "I don't know.  Try 'em somewhere else."  As a result, she ended up with breasts where her elbows had been.

And so they played.  Jill discovered that she was a pretty good artist with the brush, using it to sculpt her left forearm into a remarkably good likeness of a penis.  It didn't click until quite a bit later that using that likeness hadn't caused any of the paint to be worn off...

* * *

"Emmy!  Wake up!"

"Wuzzah?"

"I tried to wash my hand, and it didn't come back!"

Emmy rolled on her abbreviated limbs to blink at Jill's clock radio.  "It's 3am.  Come back to bed."

"But...  I..."  Jill stared at her friend's body.  "Oh God.  Did I just cripple you?"

Emmy shook her head.  "Nah.  Paint thinner will take it off.  I tested it earlier."

Jill slumped into the bed in relief.  "Oh, good."

It was a while before they got any sleep.

* * *

"Emmy!  Wake up!"

"Awww, *now* what is it?"

"Where's the paint thinner?"

"I didn't buy any."

"WHAT!?  But you said..."

"I just got a sample.  Tested it on my fingertip.  Worked fine."

"WHY?"

Emmy grinned, and waved her abbreviated limbs.  "To be stuck like this.  At least, until you go to the store."

Jill stared down at the knobbly flesh where her left wrist had been.  "I can't go out like this!"

"Well, *I* sure as hell can't.  Just cover it up with a glove, or a long sleeve.  Or erase it further, so nobody sees *that*, anyway."


Jill tried stuffing a glove full of tissues but it looked ridiculous.  So she went back to the store with the stump of her left hand tucked into a pocket, eyes darting around nervously to see if anyone noticed.  She did draw the odd look or two, but eventually realized that it was because she was acting so furtive...

She bought the largest bottle of paint thinner that they sold, and only barely resisted the temptation to fix her hand right there in the parking lot.  Luckily it wasn't too hard to drive her automatic with one hand.

When she got back home, the first thing she did after slamming the door was to struggle with the cap of the paint thinner...  After a few frustrated yells she got it open, though the cap was rather the worse for wear once she was done.  She just sloshed some on her wrist and made a heck of a mess of her shirt in her efforts to get her hand back.

"Oh thank God it worked.  I'll be there in a minute Emmy!"

"Is everything OK?"

Jill carried the bottle into the bedroom with her newly restored left hand.  "Yep.  My arm is even the right length now, too."

"Cool.  So erasing and restoring works...  C'mon, time to fix me."

"OK.  Um... I should probably get some paper towel, first."

Emmy flopped back on to the bed, and gave a fetching smile.  "No hurry on my account."

The smell of the paint thinner drove them to distraction, though, so they didn't play for long.  Jill dug a roll of paper towel out from under the sink, and dampened it with the paint thinner.  "Now... where to start."

Emmy grinned.  "How about my chest?"

Jill tried, but only a little bit came back.  “That’s... weird.  Why isn’t it working?”

Emmy baffed her on the side of the head with one of the breasts attached to her elbows.  “Because these haven’t been erased, maybe?”

“Maybe.”  Jill next tried restoring Emmy’s arms, but the breasts were in the way, and all she did was make them stick even tighter, blending away the seam.  Restoring her legs worked, much to Jill’s relief.  Emmy didn’t seem as worried about her arms or as pleased about the return of her legs.

“I guess I better erase your boobs so we can fix you up.”

“No hurry.”

Jill wouldn’t be put off, and the brush soon flickered across Emmy’s breasts, removing them to coos and sighs.  This time, her chest came back just fine.  Before Jill could restore her arms, Emmy got up from the bed.  She walked into the washroom, and with some effort managed to use the stubs of her arms to get the shower running.  Rinsing her much-reduced arms restored them fully, and she grinned.

“Nifty.  So even lacquer could be removed, if you have the brush.”

“What’s this about lacquer, now?”

“Once it sets, even paint thinner won’t touch it.”

“But that would mean you’d be permanently...  You didn’t buy any, did you?”

Emmy gave her a lopsided grin.  “Of course I did.”

“But you’d be... stuck.  Really stuck.  Permanently.”  Jill started to hyperventilate.

“Shh, shh.  We’ve figured out that it’s not, not really.  The brush can bring me back.”

“But you didn’t know that.  What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking... that I’d like to be your toy.  To be reduced to a helpless thing that’s only good for getting you off.”

Jill shuddered.  “That’s insane.”

“I know...  I’m sorry.  Look, I should probably go.”

Jill slashed the brush across Emmy’s chest to block her, erasing most of her right breast in the process.  “You’re not going anywhere.”

“But...  You said...”

Jill slashed the other way, and Emmy’s throat vanished.  “Permanently.  That’s insane.  Toy for a night?  Yes please.”

Emmy tried to speak, but her voice had vanished with her throat.  She managed a faint whisper.  “Do it.”