Over the course of a year, there’s one holiday that really brings people together. It’s a day where barriers between people fade away to reveal that, at the end of the day, we’re all human beings deserving of love and understanding for each other. Yes, that single day out of 365 that unites everyone in a spirit of goodwill and peace for all mankind.
That’s right, it was St. Patrick’s Day.
As one might expect, the local bar, named the Smashed Lass after an unfortunate incident years ago, was completely packed. Though competition was stiff between this bar and others in town, this particular establishment had a secret weapon. That secret weapon’s name was Molly.
It didn’t take a drawn out explanation of her backstory to tell where she was from. The burning red hair, the freckles, and the unmistakable accent were a dead giveaway that she was part of the authentic Irish pub experience. The immigrant from the Emerald Isle was the most popular bartender at the Smashed Lass, and for good reason. On top of her obvious heritage, her bubbly personality and low-cut shirts were a killer combo against straight guys and gay gals everywhere. Of course, on this night in particular, she was a huge hit.
“Ah, I see yer gettin’ low on that beer, big fella,” she intoned in a sing-songy voice toward one of the drunken patrons, “Can’t be havin’ that now, can we?”
She winked at the man as she took his nearly empty mug away, causing the guy to nearly melt on the spot. His girlfriend was not happy about this, and neither was another employee of the bar watching from a distance.
“Ugh, I was gonna get that table…” groaned Lucy, a blonde local who had been working at the Smashed Lass before Molly was even on the continent. Quite the looker herself, she was once the one to get all the attention. Now, however, it seemed that the exotic new flavor of server was all the rage in town, and she was just old news. She honestly didn’t mind the lack of ogling eyes, but the tips she was missing out on…
“She doesn’t even sound like that normally! Playing up that stupid accent…” she muttered under her breath, causing some awkward skewed glances from nearby customers.
Molly, meanwhile, was in her element.
“Ah, another pint for you too, then?”
“Looks like someone needs another martini!”
“Aye, I think that lass has been eyein’ ya up, chum!”
She bounced her way through the crowded bar, making comments like it was scripted and letting her extroverted personality shine. She would have loved to simply entertain the crowd, but unfortunately she had drinks to serve. She went behind the bar and mixed together some drinks, making sure to really put her whole chest into shaking up the drinks. After serving the more complicated concoctions, all she had to do was pour the mugs of beer.
“Alrighty everyone, more of the good stuff comin’ up!” she declared as she pulled the lever of the tap. Then waited. And waited. A confused pout appeared on her face as nothing came out of the nozzle. She flipped the lever up and down again with the same result. She subtly scanned the crowd for the bar’s manager, but couldn’t find him anywhere among the crowd. It looked like it was all up to her.
“Ehehe, little bit of a problem folks, but nothin’ I can’t fix! I’ll be savin’ you all from your ever-lastin’ thirst in just a wee bit!” She declared into the raucous crowd that was only half-listening to her. She actually hadn’t ever run into this situation before, but she knew the bar had some big casks of beer in the back of the place and the people needed their drinks! Squeezing past the pulsating masses, she made her way to the back room.
The storage room was not nearly as modern as the main room of the bar. It was obvious that the owner didn’t pay much attention to the cobweb-filled room of creaking wooden beams supporting finely aged barrels of alcohol. It almost looked like a scene from an old gothic horror film.
“Euuugh…” Molly groaned to herself. The supply before her was only ever accessed during emergencies, the kind that only happened on days such as this. Taking a deep breath of fresh air outside the door, she braced herself and strode toward one of the huge wooden barrels of booze.
“Ok…” Molly examined the barrel. The large wooden cylinder was stored above shoulder level, which meant lowering the beast by herself would be nearly impossible. She cursed at the empty storage space below this barrel; it seemed as though all the ones in the more easily accessed spaces had already been used up.
“Shouldn’t there be a spigot on this thing? Ah, there it is!” Quickly answered her own question, she saw the spout she was searching for. However, the barrel was turned in such a way that the nozzle was upside-down in the 12-o-clock position, when she needed it at 6 to pour the precious liquid out.
Bound and determined to get her customers the drinks they deserved (and paid for), Molly tried to rotate the barrel to the proper position to pour.
“Ah, c’mon you big ole thing, come to ma now…”
Not making much progress, she pushed and pulled the cask, trying every angle to get the thing to budge. Unfortunately for her, one wrong move caused much more than a budge. After one particularly vigorous pull, she heard a creak, rapidly followed by a crack. Molly’s eyes went wide at the sudden sound as she felt a bit of give. Looking down a bit, she noticed that the wooden support beam keeping the barrel suspended had cracked.
“Uhhhh…”
The red-headed woman only had enough time to utter a noise of confusion before the cask suddenly came crashing down directly on top of her!
THUD
And suddenly, Molly had disappeared. Well, nearly disappeared. If anyone else was in the room, the only way they would find a trace of the poor barmaid was if they got reeeaaal close to the ground and noticed the cardboard-thin strip of flesh underneath the upright barrel in the room. As you, the reader of flattening fetish stories, might have guessed, Molly had been completely flattened beneath the weighty barrel!
Crushed by what felt like the heaviest thing in the world, Molly struggled to even twitch in her current state. It didn’t take her long to realize what happened; the pressure made that obvious. She could tell that pushing the barrel off of herself with paper-thin arms was useless, as was trying to slip her way underneath. There was only one thing to do now!
“Hrrllrr? Rnybrdr? Hrrrrlp!”
A very muffled Molly called out for help from under the barrel, hoping against hope that someone else would wander their way into the hardly used storage room. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed from underneath the immovable object pinning her whole body down, but it felt like forever with how hard it was crushing her. Just as Molly let out a pitiful sigh of resignation, she heard the creak of the door.
“Ugh, stupid bimbo making me do all the hard work…” Lucy muttered to herself as she entered the storage room. Feeling sweaty and pissed off from having to cover for Molly’s sudden disappearance, she stomped over to the barrel laying atop our hero.
“And now some dumbass has knocked the beer on the floor! God, so stupid…” She continued muttering as she tipped the cask onto its side, only to be greeted by a surprising sight.
Molly’s whole body had been crushed like a soda can being stepped on. Her pancake-like form squirmed in place as she tried to get more comfortable, but Molly’s range of movement was severely limited by her new shape. She blinked her eyes against the overhead light, then moved her eyes to look at Lucy looming above her.
“Ah, ya really saved my bacon there! Seems that was a bit heavier than I thought, hehe…” She let out a timid yet charming chuckle, taking the whole thing in stride despite being an oversized frisbee.
After a moment of surprise, Lucy planted both hands on her hips and bent over Molly. “Oh, so this was your hiding spot! I’ve been working my ass off out there and you’re just goofing off in the back room!”
“G-Goofin’ off?!” Molly took offense at the idea that she didn’t take her work seriously. “Ya think I crushed myself with a bleedin’ barrel just for funsies? I ain’t exactly in an ideal situation here!”
Lucy examined the talking pancake as she spoke. Her face was plastered to the top of the doughy disc like a decal, yet Molly was still able to talk and emote. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense, reminding Lucy of an old cartoon. However, even more prominent than that were Molly’s moneymakers, each one flattened and widened under the pressure of the beer cask until each was bigger than her head. They smooshed together along the center of Molly’s nearly symmetrical surface. If she was one of the horny bastards out in the bar, Lucy would be drooling over the sight… Which gave her an idea.
“Alright Titties McGee-”
“That’s just racist,” Molly interjected.
“Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus you’re white,” Lucy responded. “Anyway, I’m sick of being the only one working hard to entertain the guests, and since we don’t have any air pumps or whatever in this bar, you’re going to have to keep them occupied like that.”
“W-Woah there, I’ve sustained a workplace injury here!” Molly pleaded while Lucy lifted Molly off the floor by the side. Like a piece of putty slammed into the floor, Molly peeled off with a little bit of resistance and the sound of surface tension breaking between hard and soft material. “Don’t you all have that ocean-thingy here in the States?”
Lucy suspended Molly before her with her fingertips. “Sorry babe, OSHA doesn’t apply to Looney Tunes bullshit ever since that crazy CEO lady sued about it.” Keeping her tone casual, Lucy flipped Molly to see what was on the tails side of the oversized coin. Apparently, Molly liked to feel the breeze on her behind. Lucy couldn’t help but whistle at the amount of legs and ass on display in the compressed upskirt.
“H-Hey! No lookin’ fer free!” Molly exclaimed.
“Can’t help it,” Lucy shrugged, “For a sec I thought you were going commando. There’s hardly anything even there…”
“They rode up on me!” Molly defensively shot back.
“Whatever you say…” Lucy was done talking, and so rolled Molly up like a newspaper and placed her under her arm. Despite Molly’s muffled protests, she found herself being carried out of the quiet storeroom and into the cacophonous bar area. The sounds of drunk yelling only made the disorienting ride more so. It was short lived, however, as Molly soon found herself plapped down onto another hard surface. As she looked around, her vision was filled with a circle of dumbfounded faces staring down at her.
“See? Told you she was too flat to be a double D! Ahahah!” Lucy laughed at her own joke, not waiting for the confused, inebriated patrons to process what had been brought before them.
“Ooooh, so that’s why she didn’t bring me another Manhattan!” said one of the customers in that drunk girl voice. You know the one.
Another of them started absentmindedly poking at Molly’s face. “Woah, you’re like… what’s the word.”
“More mashed than a bowl of potatoes?” Molly chirped, blowing at the man’s finger to shoo him away.
Lucy crossed her arms. “Now who’s the racist one…”
“Hehe, you look a looooooot thinner since we last saw you!” one of the drunk girls at the table giggled.
Molly turned her attention to the girl. “Ah yea, it’s my new weight loss program! Guaranteed to make ya thinner, even if yer American!”
The table erupted in alcohol fueled mirth as Molly grinned.
Lucy butted her head into the group, adding “T-Too bad they didn’t work on her big stupid tits!”
The table of people awkwardly stared at the significantly less interesting 3D bartender.
“...Soooooo hey, can I get another drink? My beer has been sitting here for a bit…” said one, mercifully breaking the silence.
“Well, it can’t be any flatter than me!” Molly chimed in, causing another fit of giggles among the table. “Oh, and make sure you pour ‘em real good, Lucy, I think the cask got a bit shaken up when it fell on me!”
Like an eel slithering back into its den, Lucy retracted her head away from the conversation and stood there for a moment. Letting out a sigh, she went back to work as her flattened coworker rival continued to work over the crowd.
A particularly drunk member of the group reached his hand to the middle of the table to poke Molly’s flattened cheek, asking “Sho, how did you end up like this?”
Molly feigned biting at his finger, causing him to retract it. “Oy! I don’t know where that’s been! As for how I got squashed… Well, bartendin’s a high pressure job!” It was met by another chuckle from the group, who found the whole affair much funnier than they probably would have if they were sober.
Soon, Lucy brought two ice-cold new drinks to the rowdy bunch. Without thinking much, she placed the two drinks in front of two of them.
“Ooooh Jesus! That’s fuckin’ cold!” Molly cried out.
“Huh?!” Lucy nearly jumped back from the sudden outburst. It was then that she realized that she had placed the cold drinks directly at the ends of Molly’s two-dimensional breasts. Members of the table broke out into laughter, and even Lucy covered her mouth to hide a giggle.
“Aahaahaa,” Molly regained a portion of her composure with a nervous laugh, “C-Could ya get me a couple of c-coasters there, Lucy?! L-Like, quick!”
“...I’ll see what I can do,” replied Lucy before walking away.
Once they were done laughing, the two people with glasses raised them to take drinks and give Molly a break, for which she was very appreciative.
It was then that another server appeared, this time bearing a tray full of the Smashed Lass’s finest fried bar food. Not wanting to keep anyone waiting, the server quickly placed plate after plate of food on the table’s strange tablecloth, not even noticing the fact that there was a moving face in the middle.
Molly felt plate after plate placed on her, pressing down across her sensitive body. “H-Hey there! Watch where your- mmmmrrrph!”
Molly was cut off as a big bowl of chips and salsa was planted directly on top of her face, muffling her quippy complaint. Entirely enticed by the mere prospect of the food in front of them, the people at the table completely forgot about Molly the moment she was out of sight and started digging in. Molly tried to get their attention, but her muffled ‘mmphs’ just weren’t loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the bar. Being pinned down by the plates made her feel even more immobile than before. It was, frankly, a humiliating position for her to be in.
Frustration built in the outgoing redhead’s mind, but she tried to keep cool under the warm bowl. That is, until she felt a particularly messy eater wipe a hand covered in barbecue sauce all over her.
“MMMMRMPH HRRRMMPH?!”
“...Huh, did you hear something?” the culprit asked the person next to her.
“Whaaaat?” the other person responded.
“Eh, nuthin’.”
Molly was almost glad that the bowl was covering her expression, because she was fuming. Not only was that going to be a pain to clean, but these people were wiping their hands on her like she was a mere napkin! It was one thing to be a tablecloth when they were all interacting, but being used like an actual tablecloth got her goat.
A few minutes later, Lucy came back with a tray full of shots for the guests. Seeing Molly covered with food, she suppressed a giggle with a snort, then placed the shots onto the free space on Molly before dashing off again. Everyone at the table grabbed a shot, but one of them noticed that they had been given one extra.
“Ooooooh, I know what to do with this one!” exclaimed one of the girls. She grabbed the shot and lifted the bowl of chips into the air, revealing Molly’s annoyed face.
“Oi! I’m all for havin’ a fun time, but- keh!”
Molly was once again cut off, this time by the girl pouring the shot into Molly’s flattened oval of a mouth. She coughed in surprise for a second before reflexively swallowing the alcohol down, and the entire table cheered.
“Eck! That… That was a high proof- hnnmph!”
This time, some beer was being poured into Molly’s mouth. She was forced to glug it down before it was taken away from her.
“H-Hey! You’d better-!”
The girl once again placed the bowl of chips over Molly’s face, silencing her to the group as the rest of them took their shots.
Festivities continued. As the party demanded refills on drinks and chips, they got drunker and messier. Drinks were spilled, salsa was dripped, and one of them got tired and rested her head on the soft, warm tablecloth that they had been using. Eventually though, the group decided they had had enough food, and the plates and glasses were taken away. Last to go, of course, was the bowl of chips.
Molly was furious at how she was being treated, and her face showed it.
“D’awww, someone’s a gwumpy wumpy puss!” cooed one girl, leaning forward and inadvertently pressing her chest into Molly’s flattened hand.
Molly’s eyes darted to her. “Well, maybe if you had just spent the last however long it’s been crushed under the food and drinks of a bunch of drunk idiots, you would feel the same!”
The party burst into laughter, unable to take Molly seriously due to the intoxication combined with her silly form. Molly took a breath deep enough to cause her to not be entirely level, then breathed out.
“H-Hey, lemme do the- the thing I do to my girlfriend when she’s sad,” declared a girl at the table who clearly needed to be cut off.
Molly closed her eyes and, through gritted teeth, asked, “And what might that be?” She then felt something new press into her heavily, and she opened her eyes to see what was happening. With surprising agility, the drunk girl had clambered onto the table, and was quickly turning around. Molly didn’t realize what was happening until it hit her.
WHUMP!
The girl had let herself fall ass-first right onto Molly’s face. The table erupted in a laughter that drowned out the muffled cries of indignation from underneath the woman. She raised her hands like a performer finishing a show, then relaxed in her new position. Apparently, the alcohol had eroded everyone’s sense of object permanence, and they all continued raucously talking with the girl on the table.
Lucy came by at this moment, pointing her finger at the woman. “Hey, no sitting on the tab-” She paused, remembering which table this was. “Ah, nevermind! Have fun y’all!” she intoned as she left to clean up some other messes.
This situation continued like this for a little more than an hour, but even the partiest of party animals get partied out eventually. The inebriated entourage managed to pay their tab and stumble out of the bar around the time everyone else did. As the seats cleared and the empty glasses were collected, Lucy sauntered up to Molly’s table and leaned on top of it.
“So? How did everything go?” She teasingly asked.
Molly’s face held an angry pout as she growled in response. Lucy couldn’t help notice the two massive, crater-like imprints on Molly’s face which reminded her of a gag from a cartoon she watched as a kid.
“Y’know, it’s a real shame. You spent all night at this bar, and no one took you back to their place! Maybe you’re just too flat for the guys here, huh?” Lucy couldn’t help but relish the power she held over the object of her envy.
Molly looked up at Lucy. “...Look, I know we’ve had our differences, but how about you just take me home, pump me back up to normal, and we forget all this nonsense happened?”
Lucy smirked. “Well, I’ll at least take you home…”
Before any of the other servers noticed, she quickly rolled Molly up once again and stuffed her in her purse.
The Next Day
“Sooooo… you’re saying that Molly had a sudden family emergency, had to move back to Ireland, only told you about it, and left this weird poster of herself here?” the Smashed Lass’s manager asked Lucy.
The poster in question had the text “We never serve them flat!” across the top, and a surprisingly realistic bust shot of Molly against a black background at the bottom. Overhead lights glared off the plastic coating of the laminated poster, only slightly obscuring Molly’s ridiculously proportioned chest. The center of the poster bore Molly’s still face, frozen in an expression of surprise that made her look oddly cute and helpless.
This, of course, was not merely a poster of Molly, but the real deal. After adjusting her a bit, Lucy had pasted Molly onto a background and made her into a fairly convincing decoration. Naturally, Molly was utterly outraged, but the layer of lamination covering her sealed her in place and prevented her from even twitching.
Lucy looked at the poster she had brought in, then back to the manager. “Yup. Crazy how she just split town, huh?”
“Lucy, you little-!” Molly angrily thought to herself, “At least there’s no way he’ll believe that crazy story! You’d have to be dumber than a box of rocks to buy that!”
The manager looked over the spot on the wall where the poster was hanging, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t quite get it, but the tits should bring customers in. Maybe it’s Irish humor or something…” He then walked off to take care of more important matters.
“WHAT!? Y-YOU-! COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW YA DUMB YANKEE BASTARD! HEY! HEEEEY!” Helpless to do anything but what she was doing, she continued her mental rant while hanging on the wall.
Lucy smirked and looked the living poster up and down once again. She winked and clicked her tongue at it, then got back to work, expecting it to be much less frustrating from now on.