Diane strolled down the street, gazing up at the various storefronts. She'd never been in this part of town before. It was right at the border of the commercial and industrial parts of town, where the buildings got bigger and less inviting. Most of these stores had swept in to replace the little factories and workshops that used to be here, so they were a little too big and a little too utilitarian for the average consumer. Finally she found the place her friend had recommended.
“Beauty In A Bottle Salon and Spa,” she read, gazing up at the sign. “Kind of a weird name, but if it can do what she said it can, I guess that’s all that matters.”
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The place certainly looked like a salon. There were a bunch of barber’s chairs set up in the front of the room, but the back of the room was a wall of frosted glass, obscuring what lay beyond. The ceilings were incredibly tall, which left room for larger than life “before” and “after” posters hanging on either side. The before images were, to be frank, rather attractive women. They were all quite fit, and with very pretty figures and faces. But the after was invariably a mouthwatering, breathtaking, borderline supernaturally beautiful creature. They looked like their figures had been sculpted by divine artisans to be the absolute sexiest they could possibly be.
“Hello!” asked a middle-aged woman who was clearly an employee and not a customer.
She wore a strange smock and large rubber gloves. Goggles were resting on her forehead, and a respirator hung from her neck. She looked more like she was going to be doing some sort of renovation work than a spa treatment.
“Do you haven an appointment?” she asked, pulling a clipboard from the wall and flipping through.
“Um, yes. I’m here for the… err...”
The employee jabbed a finger at the page. “Boob Bump-Up Treatment?”
Diane glanced about, blushing slightly. “Yes. Not so loud.”
“Oh, if you’re the shy type, you’re in the wrong place.” She turned and beckoned over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you set up.”
She trotted after the beauty technician and passed through the glass doors to the more impressive inner sanctum of the spa. Instantly she was struck by the far more industrial feel of the place. There were big pneumatic tubes running along the walls and up to a main manifold in the ceiling. Little chambers that looked like showers without water spigots lined the walls, and little rolling carts loaded up with assorted chemicals and equipment were spaced regularly along the walkway. Each chamber had a full-length mirror in front of it.
“So you’re sure you want to boost your bust? You’ve got pretty big knockers as it is,” the employee said nonchalantly.
It was true. Properly dressed and made up, Diane probably could have passed for one of the “after” posters. She was gifted with some dynamite curves and a naturally beautiful face. The crowning jewel of her bodacious figure was her chest, comfortably in the Double-D territory and retaining their pert, almost buoyant bounce despite not having had any enhancement surgery. But after places like this came around, and people with the money and the inclination started finding ways to match her figure, her award winning chest was no longer sufficient to guarantee her the sort of modeling jobs she wanted.
“Well, you know. If a regular chest can be made huge by your treatments, I figured you’d be able to do something really impressive for me.”
“Oh, certainly. We work wonders here, but we’re only as good as our raw material. You actually might be the first woman we’ve had through here who might actually need the safety briefing. So listen close. This will be your booth. Oh, and strip.”
“Here? Now?”
“We’ll give you something to cover up once you’ve gone through prep, but again, this is no place for modesty.”
“Um… Okay,” Diane said, unbuttoning her blouse.
“While you’re stripping down, I’ll give you the spiel.” She cleared her throat and launched into a well-practiced sales pitch. “Here at Beauty In A Bottle, we utilize cutting edge bio polymerization techniques to allow non-surgical, semi-permanent body modifications and augmentation.”
“Semi-permanent?” Diane said.
“Reversible. You read the waiver, right? You signed it, you better have read it.”
“Of course I did,” Dianne said quickly, presuming that the standard “scroll to the bottom and click accept” procedure was sufficient.
“Good. Then please, if you break my flow we’re going to be here all day.” She resumed the pitch. “Our non-toxic, FDA-pending skin treatment will increase your dermal, muscular, and skeletal elasticity, rendering you malleable and thus susceptible to sculpting. We then use industry-first techniques to utilize your body’s own surface tension to maximize your beauty potential while maintaining a natural shape defined by and enhancing your anatomy.”
Diane finished stripping. She shivered a bit in the air conditioning as a breeze tickled her bare skin. The employee picked up a spray bottle.
“Eyes shut, big deep breath and hold it,” she said.
Diane did as she was told. The spray bottle quacked like a bottle of window cleaner and spritzed her bare skin. At first it had a chemical chill, but once the droplets had a moment to linger on her skin, they tingled her with a gentle, soothing warmth that was actually quite relaxing.
“And turn so I can get the back,” the employee said.
She turned and got another few spritzes.
“Okay, good, you’re coated. You can breathe and open your eyes.”
Diane took a few breaths. The air had a weird, rubbery scent. She turned to the mirror and looked herself over. Her body had indeed been given a thorough coating. Every inch of her skin was glossy with a gleaming, rubbery sheen. She experimentally rubbed her fingers over her toned midriff and made two curious discoveries. First, she wasn’t wet or oily, as she’d imagined she must be to have that sort of shine. Second, when her fingers slipped across her skin, she was treated to a balloon-like squeak.
“Okay, time to suit up,” the technician said. “Now’s the time to confirm. Are you sure you want just the boobs, or are you looking for more of an hourglass thing?”
“I like my hips. I’m just looking for a little more heft in the chest.”
“Blue suit,” the tech said.
She looked to the cart and pulled a rather small, shiny blue catsuit. She managed to stretch the neck and step through to start slipping it on. Her freshly glossed skin made her very smooth and slippery, so tugging on the scandalously tight outfit was surprisingly simple. Once she again looked at herself in the mirror. The suit was some sort of thick rubber. She could feel it constricting her body a bit, but not uncomfortably so. It felt like a sort of all-over caress. The only place that wasn’t the case was her chest. The suit there was much thinner, translucent enough that her nipples were visible through the blue material.
“Pardon my hands,” the tech said, stepping forward. “To make sure you stay an even and natural shape, these have to be perfectly form-fitting.”
The tech stepped forward and, with clinical detachment and impressive speed, pushed and stretched the thin material until it perfectly hugged Diane’s breasts like a second skin, without even a hint of tenting between her boobs.
“Okay, into the booth,” the tech said. “Once you’re inside, turn and face front. I’ve got a safety lecture and you in particular should listen close.”
Dianne stepped into the booth, feeling more than a bit awkward at how she squeaked and creaked with each step. She hoped most of the squeaking was from the suit and not her coated body. Once she was inside, the door in the front of the booth shut and she was sealed in the transparent chamber.
“We are going to start dropping the pressure in the chamber. That will cause any unrestrained soft tissue to expand. Your head shouldn’t change—one of the patented secrets of the treatment, but since your boobs are barely contained and everything else is nice and snug, they’ll start plumping right up. There should be plenty of air to breathe even at the highest pressure reduction, so no worries there, but the vent intake is in the rear of the chamber, by the floor. You’ll want to avoid blocking that for all sorts of reasons. On your left and right, about waist high, you’ll find the shut off switch. Since only YOU know how big is big enough for the chest, you’ll be hitting the stop button once you’re satisfied and we’ll come and set you up with a complementary top to fit your new size. Also, anything significantly changing size is going to feel awfully sensitive. Expanding body parts stretch the nerves pretty thin and compressing ones increase nerve density by a bunch, so either way this is always an intense process. You got all that?”
“I think so.”
“Great! Enjoy!”
The tech slapped a green button on the outside of the chamber and marched away. A door somewhere below her snapped open and the tube running up behind the chamber rattled as it started to suck the air out.
At first, it didn’t seem like anything was happening. She was just left staring at the mirror and working her blue-rubber-wrapped finger into her ears as they started to pop. Then she felt her nipples puff up and a wonderful tingling. Slowly, with a distracting rubbery creak, she saw her boobs start to expand. She didn’t know what she liked better, the streeeeeeetch feeling or the look of her chest gradually ticking up the size chart. Her chest swelled enough that her nipples squished gently against the glass. She backed up a bit to give them more room to grow. Every inch made them just a bit more tingly and so much more alluring. As they stretched, the rubber around them got thinner and presented a clearer and clearer view of them. They were creeping up to cartoonish proportions but they kept just enough sway and bounce to seem real. They sagged just a bit, which was a good thing because if they’d kept all of their perkiness by now they’d be inching up in front of her face. Again they bumped the glass. Already running out of room? She glanced at the stop button, then bit her lip. Surely she could get away with just a bit more size. She took another step back…
And the ball of her foot landed right on the vent intake. A weird, muffled and flatulent noise filled the chamber as air fought to get past her foot. She tried to lift her foot out of the way, but it was stuck tight, vacuum sealed to the floor. She shifted her other foot next to it and tried again to lift it away. She managed to pull it just a fraction of an inch away. Air whistled past it for a moment or two, then--
SHTHUNK
Both feet slurped right into the vent. It was only about as big around as her wrist. They shouldn’t have fit. But with a tight, squishy sensation they simply squeezed through the opening. A long, slow, rubbery squeak quivered across her entire body as her calves sunk down the pipe. She flailed her arms and wavered, her feet now too close together for her to properly stand. She probably could have recovered, but it turned out having a pair of boobs three letters further into the alphabet than nature had intended had a way of screwing with one’s balance. She flopped forward, her boobs flattening against the door in front of her, and the suction continued its relentless march up her legs. He tried to reach up for the stop button, but her hops were gliding into the tight tube and the brain-bending sensation of her feet curving around to follow the pipe.
Gradually her attempts to reach the stop button started to falter. It would be nice to say it was because she was getting further and further away from it as the pipe sucked up more of her legs and she knew she’d never be able to reach it. The truth was that the feeling of her super-sized and sensitized nipples squidging along the glass was beginning to soak her brain with some very distracting sensations. Then, just as her hips started to give the pipe a little more resistance than her legs had, groin started to pack inside and another jolt of fresh sensation demanded her attention.
She murmured under her breath. The feeling was so tight, so glorious. Like someone was pinching and twisting her teasingly. Everywhere her legs and waist touched the glass vibrated with squeaky motion. He gasped and rolled her head back, cradling her arms under her breasts as she rode the bizarre and enticing sensations. Out of the corner of her eye, the compacted, blue-coated shapes of her feet started to creep up the tube behind her. She’d been stretched into a U shape without any feeling of pain or discomfort. Quite the opposite. It felt so good she couldn’t think straight. In fact, she didn’t snap out of the odd, squeaky reverie until she felt something pressing against her chin.
Dianne shook her head and glanced down. Her boobs, now well beyond the realm of nature and deep into the fetish side of the size spectrum, had touched bottom and were beginning to squeeze against her face. She tried to pull her arms free to perhaps do something about it, but her ill-fated decision to hug her boobs had left them pinned beneath and even now she could feel them slipping into the vent.
“Hey! Hey anyone! A little help? Helmmmmmph!”
Her shouts were muffled as her warm, bouncy chest bunched up over her mouth. She was left to twist and wriggle for a moment, her vision becoming more and more obscured by glossy boobs. She could feel the tube slurping at her under-boob, starting to nibble it’s way up. Warm, smooth flesh eased up along her cheeks. Her face was swallowed by her own cleavage. Then, finally, she passed the point of no return and--
FOONK
Her boobs slurped into the tube and she was sent on a dizzying, twisting adventure. She swirled and curved through a tube too tight for a tennis ball. Her butt briefly plumped back to shape as it got lodged in the manifold, but the pause was all-too-brief and she was once again on her compressed, vacuum-propelled journey.
The trip came to a sudden stop when her feet struck a barred opening of some kind. The rest of her body packed against them, squishing her down into a soup can-sized section of plastic pipe. Her boobs bobbed down, packing the rest of her body impossibly tight but finally allowing her face to squish tight against the pipe directly. She blinked—eyelids squeaking along the plastic, and tried to figure out where she’d ended up. She was in a pipe mounted on a wall, about four feet off the ground. A bunch of other pipes seemed to lead to the same place and were lined up along either side. A beeping noise barely made it over the sound of the struggling vacuum, and she could just barely make out a blinking red light somewhere above her.
“What now,” muttered the technician as she approached down the hallway.
The woman walked up, then leaned down. Her face looked enormous compared to the packed-tight Dianne. She rolled her eyes.
“You didn’t pay attention to the safety briefing, did you?” she said. “And now I have to try to clear the blockage.”
She unscrewed something and the vacuum pressure mercifully relented, though it didn’t make much of a difference as Dianne was still packed in the pipe.
“Let me see if I can just...” the tech muttered.
Dianne’s eyes rolled back as she felt fingers poking through the bars and trying to pinch at her. They snagged something and started to tug. If she’d had enough room to giggle, she would have, because the tugging and yanking was causing some sort of a slithery, creepy sensation all over her body. Then, with a startling, rubbery snap, she felt something slip and the tech stumbled back. Dianne blinked through the tube and realized that the woman had managed to pull the suit off through the bars. Which meant not only was Dianne still stuck, she was nude.
“Phew!” the tech said, folding the suit over her arm. “That’s a relief. We only have so many of these things, you know.”
She dropped the folded suit on a cart and grabbed a threaded adapter.
“Here’s the deal. To prevent spills, the safety grating doesn’t retract unless we’ve got a receptacle hooked up, so give me a minute.”
She heard the tech screw something in place beneath her, then heard something else screwed into that. It was hall happening beneath, so she couldn’t quite tell what was being done. Then the tech stood and dusted off her hands.
“Okay! Time to get you out of the pipe,” she said.
She pulled a lever and Dianne felt the bars slide out of place. Her feet dropped into an even tighter pinch of smooth tubing, then plump back out to their original shape. At first, Dianne thought she was saved. But a moment after her feet popped back to shape, she felt them touch something smooth and glassy beneath them and the familiar feeling of squashing and compression returned. The pinch of the adapter slowly inched up along her body, squishing her tighter then letting her calves, thighs, and hips slide out along a round glass shape and compact against each other. Her midriff got stuck in the adapter for a minute while her still grossly oversized boobs contended with the pressure above. Then--
FLOOP-POP
Her boobs slipped through, plumped up as much as they could, and her head rolled through the pinch-point and nestled down until she was barely peeking over her cleavage again. It was a tight squeeze, and her massive boobs demanded nearly as much of the little container as the rest of her body did combined. She spun in place three times, then rose up as the tech picked up the stuffed container. She grinned at Dianne.
“I swear. We get a few of them every month. In such a hurry to get sculpted they can’t take the time to listen to the instructions.”
She turned Dianne to face a small mirror on the wall. The tech was holding a bottle, the kind one would expect to contain a gallon of apple cider. This one contained Diane. Her boobs dominated the entire front of the bottle, squished to follow the tight curve. Her face poked up just enough for her to be able to see, her forehead pressed tight against the glass. She couldn’t see the other side, but from the feel of it, it was mostly her butt and groin. She could feel the smoothness of the glass against her. Her arms and legs filled whatever other space they could find. One arm was wedged hopelessly in her cleavage. Another was pressed down between her legs and flattened against the bottom. One of her legs had gotten up into her cleavage as well, and the other had somehow twisted its way up one side and she could feel her toes wiggling against the back of her head.
“The good news is, as I said, semi-permanent,” the tech said. “The bad news reversals are at the end of the month.” She grabbed a cap off the cart and screwed it on the bottle, sealing Dianne inside. “That ought to keep you fresh while you’re waiting on the shelf of shame.”
The tech carried the bottle over and set it down on a shelf beside three similar bottles. One of them was empty. The other two were filled with ladies who had made similarly ill-fated decisions about how to use the booth. One had been “lucky” enough to have her face squished into a silly expression against the entire front of the bottle, with one hand squished against her left cheek and one foot wiggling against her right. The other bottle, as far as she could tell, was entirely filled with a tight-pressed butt. She struggled and wriggled, but all she managed to do was sink her nose down into her cleavage. With a resigned muffled sigh, she accepted that she was going to be here a while.
~~~
Dianne was awakened to the ringing knock of a pair of knuckles on her bottle. She’d lost track of how long she’d been sitting on the shelf awaiting, but now there was a second technician, this one a bit plumper and more energetic, standing beside the first. She had a toolbox in her hand and a worryingly excited expression on her face.
“You’re up, Chesty,” said the restoration tech. “The last one on the shelf.”
“I guess I’ll leave you to it,” the first tech said, pacing back toward the main spa.
“She signed the waiver, right?” the restoration tech called.
“Yeah!”
“Phew, good. Because she’s stuck in there real good.”
The new tech grabbed the bottle and plopped it onto a workbench. As she started preparing her equipment, she matter-of-factly spelled out what needed to be done.
“Here’s the deal, missy. That stuff we spritz on you before the boob jobs and such? It makes you real squishy and it makes your real stretchy, but there are limits. Some really extreme limits, but limits nonetheless. And as time passes, those limits change a little. Now, I checked the footage. You pretty much maxed out the boobs. Real nice set of hooters, might I add. But it means you’re tighter in that bottle than most. And I can’t just break the bottle because, you know, broken glass and flesh under pressure. Trust me, it doesn’t turn out well. So we’re going to try the standard extrication method, and then do any cleanup that’s necessary. But if that doesn’t work we’ll have to do Plan B which complicates matters for you. For me too, but I love a challenge.”
Dianne blinked a bit. It was literally the only action available to her.
“Okay!” the tech said, spinning off the cap. “Plan A, the ketchup method!”
Dianne’s eyes widened as the tech grabbed the bottle and inverted it. With the bottle braced under one arm, she started vigorously slapping the bottom. Each thump vibrated the bottle and thrummed her already hyper-sensitive nerves. It didn’t help--or more accurately, it helped enormously--that the place she’d chosen to whack was right outside where her groin had been squished, meaning that each mighty thump to the bottle caused her slit to tremble and flutter.
Her whole body twitched and squirmed with each slap. Thanks to a blush of her cheeks and a layer of sweat from the rough treatment, things were starting to get slippery and allowing her to slide around a bit. But even though she could feel herself bob toward the mouth of the bottle more and more, she never came anywhere close to slipping out.
The tech turned the bottle upside down and vigorously shook. Dianne managed to release an audible squeal as she found body parts crammed so firmly into a single position for so long she’d forgotten they used to be able to move suddenly squishing and squeezing into new, exciting, and completely unnatural locations.
When the tech finally gave up, Dianne had been twisted into a tight ball, her head having worked its way to the center of the bottle and now pressed somewhere between her boobs and her belly button.
“Okay. No dice. I’ll be honest, I kind of figured, but I owed you the attempt because that’s the entirety of what’s covered by the original contract. All further restoration requires billable hours from yours truly and I don’t come cheap. But, it’s that or stay as a paperweight, so I figure you won’t mind. Brace yourself, this is going to get a little intense.”
Dianne’s expression was hidden from the world, but if it wasn’t, then her concern over “intense” meant if what she’d already had to endure didn’t count.
She heard something screwed onto the neck of the bottle. There was a soft hiss. Then came the gentle tremble of air entering the bottle. At first, she wondered what exactly adding air to the bottle would achieve. Then she realized a familiar tingle was happening all over her body. The pressure in the bottle was growing. She could feel herself compressing further. It wasn’t like when she was slurped into the tube. That was a rough, solid sort of pressure. Unyielding, and tighter against some areas than others. This was all around. Equal. She could feel herself gradually easing inward into herself. At first, it just meant that her boobs seemed to be getting smaller--which at this point she was willing to accept as the price of restoration. But soon the bottle seemed to be getting larger. She was simply scaling down. Shrinking as the pressure compacted her uniformly tighter. Once she was small enough to uncurl herself in the bottle, she realized that her breasts were in fact still proportionately the cartoonish blimps she’d made of them, and the rest of her body had been reduced to perhaps six inches tall.
She stood on her own legs for the first time in too long and looked up at the now towering young woman holding an air hose to the mouth of the bottle.
“Standby, Busty. This one’s going to be cold.”
The tech turned another valve and something mixed with the air coming into the jar. It had the same weird smell that the first spritz in the spa had, but when it struck her, it felt thicker, like a layer of rubber cement or something.
“Okay, fixative in place. Fingers crossed!” she said.
She shut off the air and pulled the tube from the mouth of the bottle. Dianne felt herself swell just a bit, but there was a strange tug at her skin, like she was wearing one of those constriction suits despite the fact she was naked. She grew an inch or so, but otherwise remained her enormous-chested, shrunken self.
“Whooo! It worked!” the tech said.
“You didn’t know it would work?” Dianne said, finally able to speak again.
“Heck no. No one’s been stuck as hard as you. Okay, time to get you out of there.”
She roughly picked up the bottle and inverted it. Dianne tumbled against the side, plopping her boobs against the glass, then slid slowly toward the mouth. Her legs and midriff easily fit through the mouth of the bottle, but her enhanced chest lodged in the bottleneck. The tech grabbed her feet and pulled. Dianne groaned as her chest packed down against her, nipples squeakily rubbing against the glass until-
F-POP
She shot out of the bottle like a cork. She struck the wall boob first. The massive knockers squished flat against the wall, then popped back to shape, sending her launching back toward the tech. With an impressive catch, she snatched her out of the air.
“Boom! I knew that would work,” the tech said, setting Dianne down on the counter.
She looked herself over. On one hand, she looked precisely how she wished to look, with one exception. On the other hand, that one exception was that the magnificent, gravity-defying boobs she’d paid for were on a body that was barely eight inches tall.
“You didn’t restore me at all!” Dianne griped.
“I wasn’t trying to restore you, I was trying to get you out of the bottle without causing all sorts of bad things to happen. And I did! The restoration part starts with getting you back to size.” She tipped her head. “Technically the restoration starts with you paying for the restoration. We’re a cash-up-front company, remember.”
“I don’t have any money on me!”
“I know. The other tech went through your personal effects. While you were jugged. You seriously didn’t even bring a credit card? Jeez. It’s like you wanted to be a test subject to earn back the money for restoration.”
“What!?”
“Yeah. That’s in the waiver you signed, too. Seriously, when you’re done here you really should start focusing on reading contracts from now on.”
“I’m not letting anyone do experiments on me!” she said.
She dashed along the counter. The tech, with an amount of foresight that suggested this was hardly the first time she’d faced this particular situation, slammed a beaker over her. For the second time her enhanced chest served as a set of bumpers, bouncing her back to rattle jarringly but not painfully against the glass.
The tech loomed over her.
“Look, we’ll split the difference. I’ll take a bunch of… let’s call them circuitous routes to attempting to restore you. We’ll assign a dollar value to each one and if it fails, that gets knocked off your debt and if it succeeds, we’ll discuss your remaining balance and how you want to pay it off.”
“... Do I have a choice?” Dianne asked.
“Legally? No. Binding contract. Physically, no, because we’re the only people with the expertise to restore you. But if you’re not into paying what you owe, we can put you in an aquarium and set you in the lobby as a warning to other people about what happens if you don’t pay attention.”
“... In that case, let’s get started.”
“Great! Let’s get started on malleability limits. That’s the first time I’ve used that particular fixative and I’m not sure how much it’s changed things.
She raised the beaker, plucked Dianne up, and plopped her on top of it.
The diminished girl looked up at the tech. “So what exactly are you planning to--”
SPLOT
The answer came before she’d even finished asking it, in the form of a second beaker slamming down on top of the first, bottom to bottom with Dianne in between. The blow knocked her to her back. Smooth glass pressed down from above, and she felt her boobs spread against the cool surface. She groaned and blushed. Her breasts had already gotten that “stretched tight” feeling when they were expanded. When she was shrunk, they gained the “pinched tight” feeling on top, making them the erogenous equivalent of a hair trigger. Every ounce of pressure was sending fresh surges of potent, squirming arousal through her body. Before long her boobs had been flattened to pancake-sized disks that oozed out the side of the beaker bottoms. Now she could feel the glass against her tummy and thighs, pressing them down. She tried to wriggle under the pressure, but she was immobilized as her pressure on her body left her simmering with aching stimulation.
The tech pressed until she was paper thin, then removed the top beaker. It peeled free with a soft, semi-moist *SHRIP*, but somehow the tingling intensity of the pressure didn’t diminish. Likewise, her mobility and her depth didn’t return. She was a mashed-flat decal on the bottom of a beaker.
“Interesting…” the tech said. “You don’t quite have the spring back you ought to. Good finding. Valuable information. But I told you we were going to be trying to restore with these, so I’d best get to the next step. I needed you a bit thinner--not necessarily this much thinner--to give the durability and flavor test a try.”
Dianne’s flattened expression twitched at the sound of first the word “durability” then “flavor.” But she was helpless to do anything but tremble in place before the strong fingers pinched the top of her head and peeled her free in a mind-bendingly intense bit of stretching.
The tech held her flattened body up in front of her face and scrutinized it. Without any pressure at all on her, Dianne felt certain she could feel her depth slowly start to return. Indeed, her nipples popped up into three dimensions, and very gradually her bust was beginning to restore. Before the process could run its course, however. The tech did precisely what Dianne feared she would. She opened her mouth, stuffed the floppy, flattened form in her mouth, and began to chew.
The hot, wet slurp of the tongue was a whole new spectrum of sensations on an already oversaturated set of nerves. Dianne could feel her body fighting to unflatten, filling the mouth a bit more until her body was swelling the tech’s cheeks. A delighted murmur vibrated around her--evidently the “taste” part of the experiment rated quite high--but before Dianne could attempt to use her nearly restored limbs to work her way out from between the lips, down came the teeth.
Again, it didn’t hurt. Boy, did it not hurt. The gentle, nibbling, grinding pressure lit her brain up like a Christmas tree. As her body was mashed and smashed between the molars, she squealed and gasped. Up until now everything had felt like a tease, bringing her right up to the brink of enjoyment without really pinching past that line. This sent her hurtling across the “pleasure” line until she slammed face-first into ecstasy. The chewing was like the most vigorous, most sensual massage she’d ever received. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, she felt the tongue grind into her, pushing her over the limit. As she was stuffed into the tech’s cheek, she quivered and shook through a climax that robbed her of what remained of her wits and left her, utterly drained.
All she could do is release soft, exhausted whimpers as the tongue gathered her together and pushed her against the lips. If she’d had any mind to spare at the moment, she might have wondered what the plan was. Once again, the answer was forthcoming.
A puff of warm, moist air pressed her harder against the lips. Then she felt her legs flop out. She groaned as she felt the air flood into her, stretching her little body with each new puff. Her legs swelled and flopped outside the lips. Another puff squeezed her belly out and plumped that up. Another one inched both boobs out and started expanding them again. Breath by breath filled her, creaking her body more and more taut while her head was still trapped between the lips.
She grew larger, filled with more and more pressure. Her head started to inch out, until only her lips were still trapped by the tech’s. The woman was blowing her like a bubble of chewing gum.
A final breath left her achingly full. The tech pinched her lips and pulled her free.
“Okay, so, durability, 10/10. Full marks on that. Flavor, 9/10. A little rubbery, but that’s our fault, not yours. And look, you’re halfway back to normal already. Kinda.”
She held Dianne up to the mirror. She was inflated nearly to sex doll size and proportions. Her arms and legs were so tight and filled with air she couldn’t move them, but she was maybe 5 feet tall, just a few inches shy of her old self. And the extra air had plumped her thighs and boobs even more than they were. At this point she’d have a hard time getting these hooters through doors.
“Let’s see how long it lasts, huh?” the tech said.
She released Dianne’s lips. There was a brief squeak of escaping air, but she retained her size and internal pressure. … At first. Unfortunately, Dianne had some choice words for her, and when she opened her mouth to say them, instead she said--
FFPPFFFFPPRPPBBBBPBPRRPTTTPTTTHHHHSSSSSSSS
The air rushed from her body. She darted around the room precisely like a deflating balloon. As the air escaped, the aching pressure reduced and she found herself slowly returning to something resembling a “normal” state of mind--at least with respect to what could be considered normal in this place.
The pressure tapered to nothing. She felt her arms and legs become limp, and finally she crumpled to the floor, deflated and empty. She still couldn’t move, but at least this time when the tech picked her up, it felt like she was looking someone her same size in the eye.
“Okay, can’t hold the pressure. I guess I could have guessed that. Now for the next test, resilience.”
The deflated Dianne blinked wearily as she was hung from a spring-clip on a clothing rack and the tech produced a notepad to take some notes. With nothing else to do, Dianne took the moment of relative calm to appreciate how truly relaxed she felt now. All of that chewing, stretching, and wringing had taken every ounce of tension out of her body. It may have been a strange one, but this place really was a spa.
Twenty restful minutes passed with the tech scratching down observations.
“Okay, well, 0/10 on that. Seems like once you’re stretched to your limit, you don’t snap back at all. I’ve got good news and bad news then. The good news is, this last little procedure is a really high value one. You can consider yourself paid in full once it’s through. The bad news is, you’ll basically be an employee of the spa once we’re done.”
She turned and fetched a red spray bottle off one of the carts.
“Employee?” the tech said to herself in a questioning tone. “I guess technically ‘property’ is more accurate.”
She started to spritz the bottle. A fine layer of some sort of warm, red goo started coating her. It was the thickest coating yet, layering her wobbly form and making her feel just a shade less floppy and limp. The tech walked in a circle around her, applying a generous layer of the stuff to both sides. When the spraying was done, the tech donned a pair of thick rubber gloves and gently started to knead at Dianne’s face. Her flattened eyes rolled back as the manipulation--like a deep tissue massage, drenched her brain with some more intense sensation.
Strong, skilled fingers started to mash and spread her face. She started to feel the same kneading, mashing, spreading sensation on her chest as well. And some strange sharp sensations on the top of her head. It was the first bit of genuine pain she’d felt since this whole madness had started, but it passed quickly and she was once again lost in the stretching and squishing of the tech’s fingers.
A final few rubs smoothed across her face and the tech stepped away. Dianne’s red-tinted vision slowly focused on the mirror that had given her glimpses into her predicaments. Now she couldn’t see herself. She must have been hidden behind a glistening red rubber suit hanging from the same rack she’d been hanging from.
“There. We were running low on the hourglass suits anyway,” the tech said.
She gave the red suit a flap on its butt… and the sharp sudden impact of her hand startled Dianne. Dull awareness set in. That massage had worked her head down into her chest. The brief pain was the creation of a neck hole. She’d been fashioned into a suit.
The tech plucked her off the rack and lovingly folded her limp body, slipping her into a plastic top a second, strangely warm suit of the same color. Now nestled with her new “roommate”, the lid was popped onto the tub and she was stowed in one of the carts until the next time an insecure girl came in looking for a makeover.