The Button - Down In Flames (aka The Bad Ending)
Author’s Note: We pick up the scene partway through Button 18, at the decision point that saved Yana.
Author’s Warning: This is substantially darker than my usual fare.

Heather got no chance to protest, as her body had become even more doll-like, and was was already deflating.  She pawed at the open valve at her chest ineffectually, then crumpled.  Yana folded up her newest toy, tucked it into her purse, and went home humming happily to herself.

When she reinflated Heather, Yana was momentarily surprised that she didn’t start moving.  Then she remembered her own experience when deflating for the first time, and cut Heather’s spell apart.  Heather shuddered back to normality, and stared at Yana.  “That was the most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me.”

“What, deflating?” asked Yana, puzzled.  “It’s not that bad.”

“I felt my insides leaking out of me!  Then my mind started to go, slowly as the air was leaking more slowly by then.  I lost memories, language, my sense of self... in the end, there was only fear, chaos, then nothing.   Don’t do that again.”

Heather froze, at first in fear at the look in Yana’s face, then locked in place as her body became plastic once more.  Air hissed from it.

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do.  Ever.  There is nothing I cannot do.”

Mood spoiled, Yana padded listlessly into the kitchen.  She wasn’t really sure why, she wasn’t hungry, it was just...  Her dress ribboned away from her and gathered into the familiar shape of her husband.

“Dinnertime already?” he asked cautiously.

“Yep.  This body doesn’t get hungry, but... I miss eating.”

“Eating, or company at dinner?”

Yana brightened.  “Yes.”

“Then I shall see what I can do.”

Darryl made enough food for three, and at the sight of three plates on the table Yana relented and changed Heather back to human as well.  Heather didn’t say a word all through dinner.  At the end she thanked Darryl subduedly for the food and the reprieve.

Yana bristled at that last, and Heather disappeared, a long double-ended dildo in her place.  “Ready for round two?” she asked.

Darryl raised an eyebrow, then shrugged.  “It’s not like I can say no to you.”

“You better believe it.”

Darryl’s look of fear and surprise at the comment transformed into a simple dolly’s O-shaped mouth, and the rest of his body swiftly followed.  Yana carried her inflatable doll and her new toy upstairs to the bedroom, and had her way with them.

What would have been a sweaty half-hour later  –  if Yana could sweat in her current form  –  Yana tossed both toys away from her with a snarl of frustration.  “Damn it, Darryl.  You were right.  This just isn’t the same with empty toys.”

Darryl sat up, blinking glassy eyes.  Still a doll, still Yana-shaped, but now able to move.  He spoke softly.  “That’s the difference between making love, and just sex.”

“Sex is good,” protested Yana, though she didn’t put much feeling into it.

“Love is better.”

Yana prowled back and forth at the base of the bed, then stared down at the doll lying on it.  “What I would love...  Is to see that body tied up and helpless.”

Darryl struggled at the bonds that had formed out of the bed, but his arms and legs weren’t nearly strong enough to overcome them.  They pulled tight, stretching his rubber body and his struggles only intensified.  He started to hyperventilate, even though he didn’t strictly need to breathe at all.  “Why are you doing this?” he pleaded.

Yana smiled down at him, and it wasn’t a comforting smile.  “Whatever is wrong, dear?  You love doing this to me.”

“Because you love it.  I’m feeling awfully vulnerable here.  Especially with that... thing in your hands.”  Darryl thrashed about on the bed, but was unable to shake free of the bonds, or do anything to avoid the enormous dildo that was approaching.

“You liked this well enough when we used it last time.,” purred Yana, teasing it up Darryl’s rubbery leg.

Darryl bucked his hips, trying to move away from the thing in Yana’s hands.  “That was different.  Mutual.  Fun.  This is...”  He stared up into Yana’s eyes.  “You really want this?”

Yana shuddered.  “I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.  But I can’t, the bonds would vanish.  Being tied up terrifies me.”

“What?  I thought you loved it!”  Darryl’s thrashing stopped and he stared up at his wife in confusion.

“I love the helplessness more.  The fight, trying oh so hard and failing.  Fight for me, let me at least have the vicarious thrill of doing this to you.”  Yana nudged the dildo against Darryl’s dolly parts, making him squirm and buck once more.  “There we go.  Fight it.”

Darryl went limp.  “No.  Do what you will, I’m not giving you the satisfaction.”

Yana recoiled as if slapped, and then glared down at the bed.  Darryl melted away into the sheets and was gone.  “Fine,” she groused.  “Be like that.”

She curled up on top of the bed with the dildo and started to use it on herself.  After a minute she threw it away in frustration, pulled the covers over herself, and stared into the darkness until she fell asleep.

In the morning Yana turned Darryl from bedding directly to her dress, without ever acknowledging his existence.  She was almost out the door before she remembered Heather, and quickly went back to tuck her friend into her purse.

At the studio, Yana went directly to wardrobe and restored Heather there.  The big woman stared around herself in confusion.  “Where are... oh.  Work.  Is it Tuesday now?”

“Yep.  Snuck you in in my purse.”

Heather stared at Yana, mouth working silently.  She took another moment to gather her thoughts, then nodded curtly.  “I see.  Did I miss anything fun?”

Yana shook her head, looking away.  “Darryl didn’t like being tied up.”

“So you stopped?”

“Not exactly, no.  He resisted, then he made me mad and I turned him into the bed.  Tried to use you instead, but Darryl was right.  Mindless toys are no fun.  Not after you’ve had the other.”

“Yana!  What on earth were you thinking?”

“I was frustrated.  Getting that way now, too.”

Heather shut up and turned to the dresses, getting ready for the day’s shoots.  She didn’t speak to Yana again, except as necessary for their work, and even then used as few words as possible.  At the end of the day Heather ended up stuffed back into Yana’s purse without ever being asked what she wanted to do that night.

She didn’t even get dinner, or any kind of say in the other things Yana did with her in the night.

In the morning Heather reappeared in wardrobe.  “Can I have some clean clothes, at least?”

Yana nodded, and in a moment Heather’s clothes were replaced by a gorgeous glittering gown.  “Better?”

Heather sighed.  “You know the answer to that.  How is this all going to end?  I mean, I’m glad I wasn’t mindless, but I wasn’t really a willing participant either.”

“But I thought you liked being things and being forgotten!” protested Yana.

“I...”  Heather stopped, took a deep breath.  “Not when you do it out of anger.  Or use me as a weapon against your husband.  Remember him?  Where is he, anyway?”

Yana’s hand stroked down her dress.  “Right here.”

“Okay.”  Heather raised her hands in a calming gesture.  “Let’s get those dresses ready, then we can have a nice quiet, non-stressful day.  Okay?”

“Okay.”

It mostly worked.  Yana kept her head down, kept quiet, and the only untoward thing that happened was when Nadine made a smart-aleck comment about feeling like a dressmaker’s dummy.  A moment later, she was one.

“Oops,” said Yana softly.  Since Nadine was still the right shape, she continued to work on the fitting.  A raised eyebrow from Heather made Yana sigh, and change her back.  Nadine nervously waited out the rest of her fitting, saying nothing.

That evening, Heather asked lightly, “Am I cooking for two, or will Darryl be joining us?”

“Since you want him so bad, here, have him.”  Yana threw her dress at Heather, and it transformed into an inflated doll before it landed.

Heather looked between the doll and Yana in confusion.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Fuck off and leave me alone.”

Heather sighed and turned to leave with the doll in her arms.  After two steps, she felt her body lock up and she tumbled to the floor with a thud of silicone against linoleum.

“I forgot,” said Yana sarcastically, “If you’re going to fuck your dolly, you need the right parts.”

She shoved the male doll Heather against the Darryl doll, acting out a perverse love scene between the two of them, acting for all the world like a twisted girl with her dolls... except these were anatomically correct.

She tired of that once ‘Daisy’ had had a fake orgasm, and shrunk both figures down to a more manageable size.  Twisted together, they made a serviceable dildo, but her anger made them all twisted and sharp, and it hurt to use them.  In frustration, Yana tossed them aside and cried herself to sleep.  Her robotic eyes had no fluid to leak, however.

In the morning, Yana guiltily restored Heather and Darryl.  Both of them ignored her apologies, wordlessly turning ther backs on her, as one.  And as one, they fell to the floor as bits of fabric.  Yana wore them to work under her dress.

She was snappy and snarly at work, and didn’t even deign to explain Heather’s absence.

Friday morning came, and everyone hoped that having a ‘fun’ shoot would cheer Yana up.  For a while, it worked.  Turning Steve into Sue on camera made Yana smile, especially at all the reactions.  So of course, they kept right on, more and more guys trying to crash the ‘pajama party’ and becoming female for their efforts.  One acted obnoxiously enough that Tawny touched the fake ‘amulet’ she was wearing and told him he was doomed to become her panties.  He fluttered to the ground, making Yana grin even wider.  Tawny pretended to be shocked that her ‘amulet of transformation’ could do that, then grinned wickedly and slid him up her legs.

That opened the floodgates.  Several of the other girls insisted that this one or that one had wronged them, and one by one the pajama party members became panties, bras, and robes.  The remaining girls would put on whatever their latest target had become, then try to find new reasons that one or the other should no longer be human.  Nadine was already wearing two others when it was her turn to go, and like everyone before her, her clothes merged into her body as she changed, so the resulting bra had three people in it.  From there on the accusations got increasingly frantic until Tawny pronounced, “You’re all being too damn noisy,” at which point the remaining four fluttered to the floor.  Tawny grinned, and pulled on the sheer nylon stockings one by one, making a show of it.  Then she picked up the matching shoulder-length gloves, and did the same, mugging for one of the cameras.

Tawny got an impish grin, saw it reflected in Yana’s eyes, and crooked her finger at one of the cameramen.  Together with his camera he shrunk down and down and down as she prowled toward him, ending up on the floor as a simple bra.  Tawny scooped him up, dropped her robe, and made a playful show of putting him on.

Once she was done, Yana prowled onto the set.  “Having fun?” she asked.

Tawny looked up at her, startled.  Reflexively, her hand went to the amulet around her neck.  Power glittered around Yana, then faded.

“Not a chance, bitch.  That’s *my* amulet.”  Yana gestured, and it flew from Tawny’s neck and landed around her own.  She grinned at Tawny, the smile of a cat toying with a mouse.  “I could use a pretty new bra.  I’m tired of my old one, it complains too much.”

Yana unbuttoned her shirt and slid it off her shoulders.  The bra she was wearing compressed into a simple gold bangle that she twirled around her finger before letting it fall over her wrist.  Tawny backed away once Yana’s burning gaze returned to her, but it did her no good.  She was caught up in glittering strands of power, and swiftly shrunk away to a lacy pink bra, all her clothing – her ‘victims’ – merging with her as she fell.

Yana plucked the bra out of the air, catching it just before it hit the floor.  She turned to KK and the remaining camera and made a show of putting the bra on.  Then she buttoned up her shirt, and headed for the door.


Once Yana had passed the cameraman, KK let out a breath she’d been holding for too long.  “And cut.  Damn, girl, that was incredible.  Wait... where are you going?”

Yana stopped, and looked back over her shoulder.  “Out.”

KK stormed around in front of her.  “Not with all my people on you.”

“They’re comfy.  Maybe I’ll keep them like this,” Yana goaded.

KK’s fists clenched.  “Bring them back!”

“Or what?” Yana asked, very, very softly.  “There’s nothing you can do to make me.”  Yana held KK’s gaze for a long beat, waiting until the big woman dropped her gaze.  “Nothing at all.”

Yana stepped around KK, again heading toward the door.  And was completely blindsided by the fist that crashed into her ear.  She fell to the ground, dazed and in pain.  A solid kick to the ribs tumbled her onto her back and her eyes blazed with fury at her attacker.  Even that wasn’t enough to warn KK off.

KK’s skin and clothes turned gelatinous, and she had only a moment to look surprised before they burst into roaring flame.  She screamed in pain and terror, then collapsed in a blazing heap.  Yana skittered away from the pyre of her former boss, the searing heat finally battering through her anger to reach her primal fears.

By the time Yana had regained her feet, a half dozen paces from the blaze, the ceiling was on fire.  Fabric, cabling, the wood of the ceiling itself, all were ablaze, as was the door and the wall around it.

The cameraman was still filming.  Yana swore at him.  “Run, you idiot!”

He punched the eject, grabbed the tape, and bolted for the fire escape.  Unfortunately, he caromed off a stack of pallets, sending them crashing down behind him.  Flames were already licking at the exposed wood.

Yana stared in horror.  Her escape route was blocked, and on fire.  The sound stage itself had become an inferno, most things that weren’t already on fire were smouldering with the threat of it.  She had to get out, but panic gripped her.  How?

She clutched on to the bangle, to the person within who had been her lifeline.  “Darryl,” she whispered.  The spell holding him inanimate untangled, tumbling both him and Heather to the floor.  Darryl took one look at the situation, grabbed a fire extinguisher, and started to create a path to the fire escape.  The fire in the heaped pallets died down, but when the extinguisher ran dry it threatened to flare up once more.  Darryl practically threw Yana over the pile, and dove after her himself, Heather only a pace behind.

The crashed through the door and stumbled out into the parking lot, blinking at the light of day.  The cameraman was on a cell-phone, calling for help.  Darryl turned back to stare at the smoke leaking from the studios.  “Is there anyone else inside?”

Yana shook her head, and touched her bra.  “All here.”

“Get them out,” gritted Darryl.  The wave of magic that flashed at him in response made him swear.  “No!”  An angry gesture batted it aside.  Both Darryl and Yana’s eyes widened.

“No more magic,” Darryl snarled.  “You’ve done enough.”  He pulled at the magic around her, denying her every scrap and in the process unravelling the spell around Tawny.  She tumbled away from Yana, then more people fell away from her as their spells broke, and more again.  Soon Yana was surrounded by angry people, cowering in front of them.

Then the roof of the studio fell in with a crash, sending sparks and flames into the sky.

“Is everyone here?” called Steve, looking around.

The cameraman shook his head.  “KK’s inside.  She’s...  She was the flashpoint.  She’s toast.”

Steve rounded on Yana.  “You killed her?”

Yana tried to lash out with magic, but Darryl once again stopped her.  “No more, Yana.  You are done.  You don’t even deserve to be human.”  Anger flashing from his eyes, he forced magic at her.  “Down.”

Yana shrunk.

“Down.”

Yana dwindled further under Darryl’s steely gaze.

“Down,” he commanded, and her body collapsed into a tiny lump of silicone.  It had Yana’s face.

Darryl knelt before her, saw the rage and impotence on that face.  “Down,” he repeated, softly but inexorably.

All that was left was a palm-sized pink ovoid.  Nothing human to it, save the waves of rage boiling off of it.  The asphalt around it crackled from the heat it gave off.  Darryl poured more power into it until he felt something snap.  Lightning arced from the tiny thing, driving everyone save Darryl back.  When the display ended, only Heather was brave enough to come up to his side.

“What have you done?”

Darryl stared down at the tiny pink thing on the ground.  “She’s trapped now.”

“Forever?”

“Yes.”

Heather nodded.  “Good.” She reached for the tiny thing.  Darryl shouted a warning, but too late.  Heather’s arm vanished, leaving only a silicone patch at her shoulder.

“We need to isolate her,” Darryl said.  “There’s a toolbox in my car.  We can use that.”

Once the furious pink egg was safely tucked away courtesy of a pair of long-nosed pliers, Darryl slammed the box closed, then dumped it back into his trunk.  Heather and Darryl drove off as the sound of sirens approached.

“Now what do we do?” asked Heather, once the smoking ruin of the studio could no longer be seen behind them.

“I don’t know.  I can’t stay near her, she’s still trying to grab magic from me.  She needs to be somewhere isolated.  Know of any good caves nearby?  Or volcanoes?”

“I don’t believe Mt. Doom is within a day’s drive, no.  Is she a danger to others, if she can’t be touched?”

Darryl shook his head.  “I don’t think so.”

“Then leave her at my old place.  I’ll sleep with you.  I’d rather not be near her either.”

* * *

By the fourth day, when Darryl checked up on the toolbox, the anger radiating from it had dimmed, and he began to have hope.  That night, he finally gave in to Heather’s coaxing and slept with her on the bed, rather than the couch.  They didn’t make love that night, but instead clung together like two lost children.

“Could I have saved her?” asked Darryl, in the morning, eyes still red from the night’s tears.

“KK or Yana?” asked Heather.

“Either.  Both.”

Heather rubbed her empty shoulder.  “If you can undo her spells... I guess you could have.  If you’d known.”

Darryl looked at the silicone patch as if seeing it anew.  “Oh!  I’m sorry, I...”

Heather’s arm returned, and she hugged herself with both arms.  “Thank you.”  She kissed Darryl soundly, her newly restored hand running down his back to his rump.  This time, he didn’t resist her advances.

Once they had rebuilt their shattered confidence, both started seeking new jobs.  Darryl found his employer sympathetic to his loss, and through much grovelling managed to get his slush-reading job back.  Heather was not as fortunate, but found a job in clothes retailing that would help ends meet.

As a result, it was only when Heather’s lease was up and it was time to move the last of her things out of her apartment that they thought of the box and Yana once more.  Darryl ran his hands over the box, and shook his head.  “She’s not trying to pull power off me any more.  She doesn’t even feel angry... or much of anything.”

Darryl carefully opened the toolbox, and looked at the simple pink object within.  “Still... there’s power here.  I can’t tell what.”

“Then I guess we need to experiment.  You can fix things if I get changed, right?”

At Darryl’s nod, Heather carefully reached in and touched the pink egg.  Nothing obvious happened, so she picked it up.  “At least I still have my arm.”

Darryl was staring intently at the object.  “But it is doing something.  I can sense the power flowing, what is it...  Your hand!”

Heather yelped, and dropped the egg.  “What?”  She looked closely at her hand, flexing it.  “It doesn’t seem all that different.”  She ran the fingers of her left hand over it, and purred.  “Feels nice, though.  If that’s all it does, I think we have a winner.”  

Heather picked the toy up once more, got an impish grin on her face, and stuffed it into her panties.  Then she stumbled against Darryl and nearly fell.

Darryl grabbed her to stabilize her, but before he could ask if she was OK, he heard the buzzing and her moan rising together.  “Ah.  Well, now.”  He carefully laid her out, pillowing her head in his lap, and waited for the orgasm to recede.

If anything, it kept growing and growing in intensity.  A minute in, Darryl noticed a wave of hot pink crawling over Heather’s body, replacing her flesh with lurid plastic.  He watched, noting the strength of the spell... not too strong to dispel.  Heather seemed to be enjoying herself, so he let the process complete.  Her lips were the last to go, loosing one last cry of pleasure before becoming a doll’s mouth and silent.

Darryl frowned.  The changes had stopped, but the egg was still siphoning power from Heather directly into the spell.  He carefully fished it out, focussing on refusing its attempts to convert his fingers.  Once it was free, he dropped it back into the toolbox.

“Well.  We’re all packed, other than the box.  What shall I do with you, hm?”

Heather didn’t answer, of course.  Darryl grinned, and picked her up.  She was light like this, inflatable.  He thought of looking for her valve, but shuddered when he remembered where the last deflation had led.  So instead, a not terribly realistic looking doll accompanied him on the drive back to their apartment.

Once everything was unloaded, Darryl tugged at the spell trapping Heather, and she shuddered back to life.  “Ohhhhh... that was incredible.  I want to do that again.”

Darryl laughed.  “Fine, but be careful.  The longer you use it, the longer the spell lasts.  It was well on its way to becoming self-sustaining when I took it out.”

Heather’s eyes went wide.  “We have a cursed dildo, now?  One that turns people into toys?”

Darryl nodded.  “Yana would be happy, I think.”

Heather purred, and opened the toolbox.  “So am I.”

This time when she picked up the pink egg, her hand immediately became pink plastic.  Then purple, then blue.  Darryl stared at the hand in amazement.  “It didn’t do that last time.”

“Last time I didn’t think to try controlling it.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Darryl as he felt magic spinning toward him.  “Careful...”  He blocked the first attempt, but at Heather’s pout, relented.  “Put it down when you’re done.”

Darryl swiftly shrank out of his clothes.  With a satisfied smirk, Heather put the pink egg back in its box.  Once it was closed, she dug through Darryl’s clothes to find her prize, a large purple vibrator.  “Oh, we’re going to have such fun.”