He gazed down at the smoothly rotating rollers. It was a huge wringer, the biggest he'd ever seen. The machine was installed in the south wall of the factory where he worked, and though it was running non-stop, he'd never seen anyone actually use it. He didn't even know what it was for. They did so many different types of contract work at this place it could have just as easily been used for disposing of byproducts as ironing out wrinkles. But he'd stopped caring about that. Ever since he'd first noticed it, a strange thought had stirred in his mind. It had been growing stronger since that day, and now that his shift was over and he was the last person in the place, he couldn't stand it any more. He had to know what it felt like.

A glance back and forth confirmed there was no one watching. Before he could second guess himself, he dropped to his knees in front of the device and leaned forward. His head came into contact with the cool surface of the roller. For a moment or two it simply slid against his skin without any real traction, as if offering him a chance to reconsider. Before he could come to his senses, though, his head slid forward and pinched between it and the roller below it. With slow, inevitable smoothness, the rollers began to claim him. The pressure was incredible, but the pain never seemed to come. Even as his eyes and nose squeezed between he didn't feel anything but coolness, hardness, pressure, and a sort of steadily amplifying stimulation. It didn't feel like he'd expected it to, but that was only because it felt so much better, and because there simply wasn't anything to compare it to. The closest might have been a massage, but the point between the rollers was like that times a thousand.

The top of his head left the rollers and sagged downward, bending at a point that, quite frankly, a head shouldn't. As best as he could figure, the roller had squeezed his head down to barely the thickness of a few sheets of paper. He wobbled and fluttered a bit as he extruded downward, eyes facing first the back end of the lower roller, then the smooth, shiny metal of a chute. At another time he might have been concerned about where that chute led, but he had a lot more body to go, and he didn't want to waste a moment on anything but focusing on the feeling.

His shoulders were slipping inside now, the tenseness and stress of the day having turned them into tight little knots, but they were no match for the rollers. In a few seconds, they had been pressed as flat as the rest of him, any ounce of stress and anxiety replaced with a wave of potent stimulation followed by warm, limp relaxation. His chest squeezed in, followed by his midriff, each emerging as the same two-dimensional decal the rest of him had already become. A flutter of anxiety seized him as he realized, now with nearly half of him flat, he couldn't move anything on this side of the rollers beyond a gentle wriggle or wobble. The only part of his flattened self with full motion was his eyes, which were at this moment being treated to a dimly illuminated reflection in the shiny metal of the chute.

What he saw was a glossy and very slightly spread out version of himself. He looked more like a vinyl wall-hanger than a factory worker, though one with a pronounced blush on his cheeks and a blissful expression. Just as he began to fret over where he was going to end up, his waist entered the rollers and any logical thought was washed away.

All of the stimulation had had a predicable result below his belt, and the rollers squeezing tight over his bulging trousers sent a spike of pleasure through him that was enough to inspire even is nearly immobile flattened self to wriggle and squirm. He tried to cry out in climax, but all that escaped his flattened lips was a muffled *mmmf*. A flash of over-sensitivity tempered the feeling as his balls made their transition to two-dimensions, but it came and went in the blink of an eye, whereas the flattened manhood remained hyper-sensitive, rubbing squeakily against the chute as the last of his kicking legs and squirming toes slipped through.

When his feet emerged from the other side, he suddenly found himself unsupported and subject to the whims of gravity. He slid and flopped along the chute with exhilarating speed, then plopped down on what felt like a pile of warm, smooth ribbons. His body crumbled up, burying his head in shiny, flattened flesh. He tried to untangle himself, but his best effort did little more than slide him a little deeper into the pile, and any time one of the folds of ribbon grazed his body anywhere near the groin, it suddenly became very difficult to concentrate.

A minute or two later, he felt fingers grasp him and and was unfurled. For a second or two, his flopped over head was treated to a view of the bin he'd landed in. It looked like a laundry bin, but rather than sheets, towels, or clothing, it was filled to the brim with other glossy, flattened forms. There were men and women alike, all dressed in the same uniform as his own. Where their faces were visible, each wore a blushing, ecstatic expression like his. They were mounded up and entangled, clearly unable to do anything but quiver now and again and revel in the amplified sensations.

The fingers gripping rolled and rubbed in little circles, as though testing his texture in the same way one might sample a bed sheet. Evidently satisfied, he felt himself roughly folded and placed in a smaller cart atop another smooth, folded body. He trundled along, then felt a more skilled set of hands lift him and his cart-mate onto a table. He was laid out, face up, and murmured in bliss as hands slid over his body, rubbing and smoothing him until he was wrinkle free. Then, with only the barest glimpse of the face of his partner as it flopped down to meet his, he was smothered by the second flattened body and the two *mmfed* and *mmmed* to each other as they were treated to a second spreading and smoothing. The sensations had barely subsided when their legs were folded up and over them. They were smoothed again, then folded in half again. Firm pressure creased their bodies before they were lifted and slid into what felt like a snug plastic envelope and tossed heavily onto a stack.

As he lay there, his face pressed to another flattened face, both of which were buried in the center of their interleaved and folded bodies, he wondered if it was worth it. As the weight of a similar packet slapped down atop him and both he and his packet-mate hummed through another glorious climax, he decided that it absolutely was.