You arrive at work as you always do, just in time for the day shift to end and the night shift to begin. It's Friday. Most of the people have knocked off early. But she hasn't... You don't even know her name, but ever since her first day on the job, you've looked forward to this one moment in the day when your paths cross. She isn't the most beautiful woman in the factory. At least, not to the others who work there. But something about her shy smile, her little freckles... she's perfect.

He notices you as you enter and offers a friendly wave before continuing her work. She's an inspector, hence her presence after the end of the shift. In order to keep the rest of the crew safe, she waits until between shifts and inspects the rollers, the glue vats, everything that might pose a hazard.

After checking off something on her trusty clipboard, she removes a key from the safety interlock and steps onto the conveyor belt for the industrial laminator. The massive machine is used to press and preserve large advertising banners, sealing them between two thin layers of tough, transparent plastic to protect them from the elements. It is easily the most treacherous machine in the factory, and thus can only be activated when a key is inserted in the interlock. A key like the one she'd just removed. A key like the one on your keychain.

A thought rushes through your mind. A terrible, wonderful thought. You're just a lonely, lowly worker on the lowest rung of the lowest ladder in the whole factory. She's got one of the most important jobs in the whole company. There's no chance she'd ever be yours... But maybe... she could still belong to you...

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you walk up to the door to the huge glass isolation wall separating the laminator from the rest of the factory. Thanks to the sheer size and power of the machine, the wall is soundproof to spare the workers the noise of its operation. You ease the door shut slowly while her attention is still fixed on the roller so dangerously close to her. With it shut, you insert your key into the interlock.

You pause.

There's no going back from this. If you start and don't stop, she'll never speak to her again. She'll probably call the police, rightfully so, and you'll lose your job and never see her again. But the thought of having her waiting for you at the end of the day, of her adorable eyes staring into yours when you wake up in the morning...

You flip the power switch.

The conveyor shudders to life with a start, jerking forward and throwing her off balance. She falls backwards, landing with a soft bounce upon the conveyor. Her eyes are wide. She's confused, concerned. You watch intently as her feet disappear beneath the roller, then dash around the other side to see if your plan is working.

First, a sliver of plastic begins to roll out from beneath the roller and along the conveyor belt. Then, glossy with their durable new coating, her sneakers appear. They are perhaps an eighth of an inch thick and perfectly flattened between the two sheets of plastic. You can even see the weak shift and shiver as she attempts to move them.

You rush around to her side again, her angles just running under. You try to imagine how it must feel. The pressure, the force rendering her body malleable. A machine robbing her of her third dimension. Your eyes drift along her toned thighs, still at their natural thickness and hidden by her blue industrial jumpsuit. She's struggling, but not nearly as much as you feared she would. Of course, with everything below the knees now locked in a plastic sheet, perhaps she can't move much.

Finally you steel yourself to look to her face. There's nothing to hide you from her. She'll have seen you already. Will she know what's happening? Will she be begging you to release her?

As your eyes come to rest upon her face, you see something you never would have imagined. Bliss. Her eyes are half lidded, her arms hugging under her breasts as she seems to be panting and giggling. At first she doesn't notice you, too lost in the sensations. But then your eyes meet. There is the barest flicker of embarrassment, then the spark of realization. She holds out a hand, touching it to the glass as she's dragged further into the machine's workings. You place your hand over hers from the other side of the glass.

Her back arches, her eyes close, and she shivers through an unheard moan. You glance down and see that her crotch, and with it her sex, has just squeezed beneath the roller. When her eyes open again, her face is pink with a blush of combined arousal and embarrassment. Sweat is glistening on her brow as the pressure fails to relent, the laminated sheets keeping her most sensitive bit of anatomy in a perpetual state of grinding, pinching stimulation.

As her precious little tummy slips beneath the roller, you see a gleam in her lustful eyes. Casting a knowing glance in your direction, she once again hugs her arms beneath her breasts, squeezing them and lifting them ever so slightly. Presenting them. Just as she's finished assuming the pose, the roller reaches her arms and mashing them down into her dwindling body. She tries to shift and move to get a better view of you as the machinery begins to obscure her vision, but she's too far gone. Too immobilized. You step obligingly toward her and she seems almost grateful for it.

Her eyes lock shut and another unheard cry nearly rattles the window. Her breasts have begun to squeeze down, perky nipples mashing flat and sending a fresh jolt of pleasure to her brain. Her eyes open as her neck reaches the roller. They lock on yours. You watch as a dozen emotions flash across her expression. Panic, embarrassment, uncertainty... but lust eventually washes them all away. Her lovely red lips pucker into a kiss just as the roller claims them. You keep your eyes fixed on hers until they've entirely squished beneath the roller, and let your gaze linger until her ponytail--the last bit of her with any depth, is fed through.

You rush to the other side, shut the machine down, and reengage the safety. As soon as it unlocks, you pull open the access door and look down upon your handiwork. There she is. Perfectly flat. Perfectly shiny. Perfect...

The tiniest of ripples and flops illustrate what little movement she has, but for the moment you're too dedicated to drinking in the sight before you to give it any thought. The rollers have, for the most part, preserved her features just as you remember them. Only her hips and breasts, the softest, fleshiest parts of her body, have distorted. The pressure has spread them, giving her two dimensional body a more buxom figure than she'd had in three dimensions.

Finally you look to her face. The plastic has given it the same glossy sheen as the rest of her, but behind that sheen, you see the same blush of combined embarrassment and arousal. You see her eyes--the last bit of her with full movement, fix upon you. Her expression is nearly as immobile as the rest of her, but the desire is evident. Her full lips in a perpetual kiss. Her little freckles preserved just for you.

You kneel and feel her, your fingers gliding across the smooth surface of her leg. What little depth she has left is rubbery and yielding, and delightfully warm. Your fingers squeak lightly as you test the texture. You look to her eyes and can practically hear the pleading in her look. With a slow, experimental grind of your thumb, you tease at the groin of your new poster. The blush deepens, the eyes roll back, and she manages the smallest arch of her flattened back.

You check the clock and realize the other members of the night shift will arrive soon. With slow, reverent care you grasp the bottom edge of the lamination and curl it upward. As gently as you can, you begin to roll her precious form into a tube. Her tight, shiny body passes inch by inch through your grip before wrapping around itself. As before, the last thing to go is her face.

Again you pause. Being rolled up must have felt even better than being rolled out, because her eyes seem to be deep in the exquisite agony of an orgasm. You lean down and press your lips to hers, reveling in their warmth through the coating. Then you finish rolling her up and carry her toward your locker.

It will be difficult waiting until the end of the shift to see her again, but you rest assured knowing that she is yours. She belongs to you now. Yours alone to possess. Your most precious belonging. And you'll take good care of her.