Tiny Sexy Girl

For the tenth time Tina try working the knife into the space between her skin and the boot. Correction: the space that should have been between her skin and the boot. And for the tenth time Tina made no progress whatsoever. The knife would not fit. The space did not appear. Though she hoped against hope that she’d see progress, she knew her efforts were futile. ‘You really fucked up this time, you stupid bitch’, she thought, tossing the knife aside. ‘Why, oh why did I have to get so fucking wasted last night?’ After all, her plan had been simple. It was something she’d wanted to do to Hillary for some time. Something she figured the girl would be waking up to about now… Hillary was Tina’s friend and something of a pain in the ass all at the same time. Where Tina was short and cute, Hillary was tall and sleek. Tina was somewhat cautious, Hillary was adventurous. Tina had trouble getting dates, while Hillary had to beat people away with a stick. And what Tina saw as a real quandary in their relationship, Hillary always dressed sharp, whereas people commented that Tina seemed to always dress like a slut on the make. It was only after Hillary made the comment about Tina’s boots that Tina decided something needed to be done. What remained to be seen, but Tina would think on the matter and scheme a bit and see if there wasn’t something she could do to maybe make her best friend Hillary a bit of a slut in her own way— When Tina had heard about the “Everlast” Boots, she at first had thought it was a joke. Boots that stay on forever and never wore out? It couldn’t be true. But after a little investigating, she’d discovered it was. Someone in Europe had come up with a way of bonding not only boots, but shoes, dressed, gloves–just about anything a person could dream up—to an individual’s body. And they would stay there, becoming a part of the person’s features. It was a pretty wild concept, but as Tina was discovering, a lot of people were into the idea of having something like a latex suit not only become part of their body, but to, in a sense, become their new skin. She called the maker and asked them if it was possible to make just about anything. They told her it was. And that got Tina to thinking… The plan was one of simplicity: go to the party with the new boots in a box and somehow get Hillary to put on this pair (Tina knew she’d be wearing boots because she’d ask Hillary if she would), instead of the pair she’d worn… okay, so Tina knew there were a few details to work out. But she thought she could do this. What was working in her favor was the party was as Rei’s place. Rei was Japanese, and like a lot of Japanese she always had people take their shoes off as they entered the house. Most of the time the shoes—and boots—were deposited in a side room, one that sometimes wasn’t all that well lit… ah, yeah, thought Tina. That was the place to do the switch-er-roo. Tina showed up early—well, earlier than Hillary. She removed her boots and removed the Everlasts from their box, then placed both in a corner out of the way of where everyone else might put their shoes. Then she ditched the box (not hard to do, just had to ask Rei where her trash went) and then waited for Hillary to put in her appearance. And while waiting for Hillary Tina began to partake in a few drinks— She didn’t even know Hillary had arrived until the girl came up and gave Tina a hug. By that time Tina was half way into her third Bloody Mary, and had just returned from a trip upstairs where a few people had split a blunt. Tina and Hillary cheek kissed, complemented each other on their outfits, and then went their way. Tina didn’t see much of Hillary the rest of the party. She was too busy getting her high on, and between the booze and the pot was feeling no pain when she headed back to where the shoes were being stored and hid Hillary’s boots so she could give her the Everlast. She couldn’t wait to see Hillary stuck in these six-inch babies knee highs, forever looking like some fetish queen. God, she was going to be so pissed— “Hey, Tina, what ya doing?” It was Marty, an old friend of hers and someone she’d dated off and on for the last couple of years. “Hey, Marty,” Tina half-slurred. “Not much, just sorta—“ Marty moved in closer, then took Tina in his arms. “Ain’t seen you around much,” he said, rubbing her back gently. “Naw, I been busy.” Tina leaned on his chest and moaned appreciatively. She always enjoyed having her back rubbed. Marty gave her a quick yet passionate kiss, then said, “Hey, the master bedroom is just over there. Why don’t we . . ?” He let the question trail off, knowing Tina understood where he was going. Indeed Tina did. “Yeah, sure,” she mumbled. “It’s been a while for me. I could use it.” They’d taken only a couple of steps when Marty mumbled, “Put your boots on. I always like it when we fuck while you’re wearing them.” Tina nodded, smiling. There was something about having her boots on when she was having sex that really, really got her turned on like crazy. She backtracked, slipped her boots on, zipped them up, and began removing her dress as she hurried after Marty. Twenty minutes later Marty was pulling himself off and removing his condom. Tina lay on her back, naked except for her boots, relaxing in the afterglow of her own orgasms. She’d missed this kind of raw, out and out fucking, and to just thrown abandon to the wind… “Oh, that was great,” she mumbled, trying to stay awake. The last thing Tina wanted was for Rei to walk into her bedroom and find her passed out and naked. “Yeah, you still got it,” said Marty, fastening his belt. “Even when you’re a little out of it.” “Fucking high is always great,” she replied. “I don’t remember the last time I did it like this—“ “Maybe because you were high?” Marty laughed. “I’ll see you back in the party.” He slipped out the door, leaving Tina behind. Tina rolled off the bed and retrieved her dress from the floor. It was only after she started to dress that she thought something seemed… well, out of whack. Not right. What it was she wasn’t sure, but if she turned some lights on then maybe— Smoothing out her dress Tina looked around the room. Nothing strange here. She walked into the master bathroom and flipped on the light. Hair was a little messed and her makeup needed a bit of a touch up, but other than that… still the same. Tina began to step away from the mirror, and it was then that she was struck by something funny… Tina had been in here before, a couple of times, and since the last time Tina had used the master bath Rei must have done something, because it seemed as if her reflection were closer to the top, like the mirror had been moved down— Or, as the shock hit Tina, she’d grown a couple of inches! “Oh, shit, no!” She looked down. Sure enough, the boots she had on were not the ones she’d come in. The heel was different—and much higher. Like six inches high. ...

When did this all start? Probably after my party. Yes, that had to be it. I’d had a few friends over. Nothing major, just five or six friends who sat around and had a few drinks and pretty much bullshitted the night away. It’s went on like that until about 1 AM, at which point I had to chase everyone out ‘cause I’d had a very long day and I was ready to hit the sack. Kim had stayed to help me put things away. Kim was someone I’d known since college. We’d taken classes together our last two years, and we’d been friends for the last five years since graduation. Kim was a classical beauty, at least to me. She was truly gorgeous. She was Chinese, with a slim figure and pert breasts and lovely black hair that reached just past her shoulders. She’d been born in Beijing, lived there three years, then left China with her parents when they immigrated to Holland. She’d lived in Amsterdam until she was sixteen, then her family moved to the US. She was something of a free spirit. She once told me that growing up in “the land of legal prostitution and drugs” will do that to a person if they have an open mind. She knew a lot of things about art and literature and architectural design, stuff that I knew little about. She liked to dress in what some would call a “provocative” fashion, with very short skirts, reveling tops and high heels. She did drugs in moderation and really didn’t care to drink. She mentioned one time that she masturbated at least once a day, and preferred dildos to the real thing. Needless to say, she had an active imagination as well. We’d just gotten everything in either the garbage or the dishwasher, and we were relaxing in the living room, me on the sofa, her on the love seat. I was in my black slacks and matching pullover, and Kim was wearing this little brown number with matching tights that drove me just a little crazy. She was sitting with her back against the armrest, her legs together and stretched out. She sighed and then, out of nowhere, goes, “What’s the strangest fantasy you’ve ever had?” I had to think about that one. When it came to fantasies I wasn’t really out there. Oh, there was the “I wish I was an elven princess” sort of thing, but I knew what Kim was asking about were sexual fantasies. Of which I didn’t have many. I didn’t really need them. My sex life was good, thank you. About the kinkiest I ever got was being spanked once in a while, although I did allow someone–Kim, if you must know–simultaneously penetrate my vagina and anus with vibrators one night. I thought for a moment, then I told her, “I think I’d like to be forced to wear really slutty looking outfits, like leather and latex all the time.” “Oh, you would?” Kim arched her brows and smiled. I knew she liked looking at me in leather, and had even bought me a leather mini skirt for those times “when we’re out, so you have something nice to wear when I’m looking at you.” ...

When it first arrived all Stephanie could do was look upon the object and wonder does that thing really work? She’d heard of these things on the Internet, but had never seen one, a real one, up close. It didn’t look all that different from a regular mannequin stand. It had a round, flat base surrounding a slightly curved metal pole that rose to just a little above a woman’s crotch. Then end of the stand was a little different from the blunt ends that made up most mannequin stands. This one was slender and terminated in a smooth, rounded tip. Directly behind the stand was a small contact switch that depressed flush into the base, only a few inches from the edge. ...

Turning around while glancing at herself in the three-way dressing mirror, Martha asked, “Do these jeans make me look big?” Leaning against a nearby display, Anna Konning retorted, “Is this a trick question.” Damn it, I should have known she’d say that. Though they were good friends ‘well, very good friends’ Martha Sever hated it when Anna joked about her weight. “I guess I should have asked if they made me look bigger.” Anna shook her head. “Forget I said anything.” She cast an appreciative eye towards the girl’s bottom. “You look good.” “Bullshit.” “Well, as good as you can, Martha.” She grunted. “You can’t help that you’ve got a large backside.” Martha turned away from the damning mirror. “No, I guess I can’t.” She walked back into the dressing room and began stripping off the jeans. Once down to her panties she gave herself a quick appraisal. Anna was correct when she said Martha had a large bottom. For Martha was a large girl. She’d always been a little heavy when she’d been in high school and college, but in the last five years it’d seemed as if she’d been unable to do anything but pack on a few pounds here and there, and now . . . now she was pushing 285. While she thought she still looked good, she knew if she kept gaining weight it was only a matter of time before she found herself without . . . without . . .. Without Anna and Greg? Martha had met Anna a few years ago through friends. Back then Martha was a ’thin’ 215, but Anna . . . well Anna hadn’t changed a bit. Anna had one of those rotund forms that provided her with a pronounced set of curves; the sort of curves that some woman (Martha among them) longed for. Anna was by no means fat; she claimed that her true weight was 135. But she had generous hips and a full, heart-shaped ass, and her breasts . . . large and full and not artificial. Martha knew that for a fact. They’d hit it off rather well. Martha commented on Anna’s simple white cotton mini dress and black boots, and Anna thanked her and began engaging in small talk. They’d continued talking for about an hour when, all of a sudden, from out of nowhere, Anna asked, “Do you like sucking cock?” For a moment Martha didn’t know what to say. Finally she sputtered out, “I, ah, guess so.” “You guess so?” “Well!” Martha was more than a little confused. “Why are you asking?” “You ever let a guy cum on your tits?” Martha wanted to walk away, but strangely, she couldn’t. “Ye-yes.” Anna smiled. It was warm and friendly, but somehow predatory all the same. “I wanna watch you get mouth fucked by my boyfriend!” She leaned in close and whispered in Martha’s ear, “And then I wanna lick your tits clean after he cums on them.” An hour later a naked Martha was kneeling naked on Anna’s bed, as Anna’s boyfriend Greg face fucked her while Anna fingered her pussy and clit. Martha was lightheaded from the sex, and her orgasm were coming one right after the other in a wave so robust that she thought she might pass out. It was only after Greg shot his semen all over her breasts and Anna did indeed began licking up every drop that Martha allowed herself to collapse in a heap on the bed. And thus began her sexual adventures with Anna and Greg. None of them considered it “swinging”, though some might call it that. And their get-togethers weren’t always three-somes. Sometimes it was Martha with Greg, other times it was Martha and Anna. Sometimes it was all three. Twice the three of them hired a hooker and had a four-way party. And there was the time when Martha showed up at Anna’s, and Anna was going at it with a girlfriend and invited Martha to join in the fun. (It was later, after everything was cleaned up and put away, that Anna admitted she’d probably be a lesbian if it weren’t for the fact that she so enjoyed having guys cum inside her.) The fun had been ongoing for almost four years now, and nothing had changed; well, nothing except Martha’s weight. She’d slowly begun growing heavier, and though it might be her imagination, she thought her continued weight gain might be affecting Anna and Greg’s feelings towards her. The last few months it seemed as if Anna’s affections were waning (hence the quips about her girth), and whenever Greg and she got together, all he seemed interested in were blow jobs. Their attitudes were depressing her, and her depression was sort of making her want to find solace in food, which was making her heavier . . . she didn’t want to feel as she was feeling, but the last few years had been such fun, and if she was loosing that. She sighed as she picked up the jeans from the floor after dresses. What’s the point of getting these? she thought. Am I going to fit in them in a few months? Is anyone going to be interested in seeing me in them? Martha walked past Anna. “Something the matter?” asked Anna. “Yeah,” replied Martha. “I got a big problem!” It was over lunch at Anna’s place a couple of days later that Martha explained what was bothering her. “So you’re worried,” asked Anna, “that we’re gonna dump you because you’re . . . getting . . ..” Martha finished the question. “Fat.” “You said that, not me.” “You’re thinking it.” Anna took a moment to consider her reply. “I will admit you’ve been getting a tad more chunky than usual the last couple of years,” she finally said. “It’s not my fault,” said Martha. “It’s just… " “You can’t find a diet that works, right?” She nodded. “Just never had any luck, is all.” “I can understand that,” said Anna. She looked down into the glass of Coke she held. Martha snorted. “I can’t see how you could.” Now it was Anna’s turn to snort. “Please, girl. You think I always had this body?” Mystified with where Anna was going with this, she asked, “What do you mean? You didn’t always look this way?” “Hardly.” She leaned back in her chair. “When I was starting my junior year in high school, I weighted almost 240 pounds.” “Get out of here!” laughed Martha. “That’s impossible.” “I could show you pictures!” “You’re not kidding, are you?” Anna shook her head. “Nope. When I was young I was always heavy. Don’t know what it was: genes, diet . . . fuck if I know. My mother looked like a model and my dad was pretty athletic looking. Me? I was dumpy. The proverbial fat girl who everyone made fun of.” Anna gazed wistfully into the distance for a few moments before telling Martha, “I fucking hated my life.” Martha could sympathize, as she’d experience much the same when she’d been in school. “So what happen?” Anna was hesitating, but given that she’d mentioned her problem, Martha felt she had no choice but to explain her solution. “You have to promise me that you won’t say anything to anyone about this. Okay?” “Sure, sure,” replied Martha. “I mean, I won’t say a word.” “Okay.” Anna tented her hand and tapped her fingers for a few moments before saying, “I apprenticed with a witch the summer before my junior year.” Martha’s response was succinct. “Get the fuck outta here!” “Straight up, it’s true!” Anna raised her right hand as if to take an oath. “I’m swear, if I’m lying to you, I’ll slit my throat.” “You’re telling me you’re a witch,” said Martha. “And you lost weight through witchcraft?” “Among other things,” replied Anna. “It wasn’t just weight loss; I had to reshape my body.” “Stop, stop!” Anna cleared her throat. “You think I’m bullshitting you?” “How could you do something like that.” “Without anyone noticing?” Martha nodded. “I cast my spell in such a way that I melted away 10 pounds every month.” Anna shrugged. “People thought I was working out.” She got up from her chair and went to the sink. “By the time I was a senior I was down to 130 pounds,” she said, rinsing out her glass. Anna put it aside to dry and turned to Martha. “I made myself over into a younger version of what you see now. Went from Ugly Duckling to The Girl Most Likely to be Masturbated Over.” Grinning broadly, she finished by saying, “It was the best thing that ever happened to me.” “Learning witchcraft?” “Learning the Craft,” Anna said. “We don’t like to call it ‘witchcraft’.” “We? As in… " “Other witches.” Oh, yeah, this is just what I needed, thought Martha. My fuck buddy telling me she lost weight on the Witch Watchers Diet. Sighing loudly, Martha leaned against her right hand. “You gotta know this doesn’t sound . . . right,” she said. Rubbing her temple with her fingers, Martha said, “I mean, you tell me you’re a witch and that you changed yourself.” “Like this?” “What are you…” Martha looked up . . . and there was Anna, only it wasn’t really Anna, but it was as she was . . . Martha couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but she was one of those black hip-hop singers, real young and beautiful, and she was standing where Anna had been leaning against the sink. And as she watched the girl began to shrink down, becoming smaller, her skin color becoming lighter, the hair turning blond, and suddenly Anna was a perfect duplicate of a famous child actress, only the eyes there weren’t the eyes of a child, but more the eyes of an adult . . . ...

(story continues from Still Life 3 - Mistaken Identities) Part Four - Les Yeux Sans Visage (The Eyes Without Face) I rolled out of bed, shaking my hair out of my face. Darrin leaned over and propped himself up on his elbow. “Going already?” “It’s ten ’till eleven,” I said. I turned and smiled. “You know I turn into a pumpkin at eleven PM.” As I walked across the large bedroom to the master bath I heard Darrin say, “Still, isn’t there anything I could do to get you to stay a little long?” ...

I held the wand in my hands for a long time before I began to adjust the settings. Did I know what I was doing then? Of course I did. I’d be a fool to say so otherwise. How my boyfriend had come across the wand I can’t say. He gave it to me as a birthday present last year. It was a nanotech wand, one that could enact changes to a person simply by setting the controls, inserting it into one’s body, and letting it run. It specialized in inanimate doll transformations: mannequins, Real Dolls, and, believe it or not, inflatable dolls. I asked if getting turned into a little doll was possible, and he told me the company that made these wands figured that in a couple of years they’d figure out how to convert mater in such a way that turning a full-grown person into a foot-tall Barbie Doll wouldn’t be out of the question, but for now you could still be a Barbie, but you’d be a life-sized one. ...

I didn’t know what to expect when the package arrived. I’d been told by my friend on the Internet – the one I chatted with concerning dolls and mannequins and being changed into objects – that this “would change my life.” Change. That’s what I wanted. I was strange about it. I wanted to become things: dolls, mannequins, play things . . . anything that wasn’t me I was interested in becoming. My friend knew what I liked. We’d spoken for hours about this, about my fetish and fantasies and such. He didn’t think me strange. If anything, he thought I was interesting and refreshing. ...

This is how it happened. Candi and I were relaxing around the house one night, not doing a lot, just relaxing with a couple of glasses of wine and watching TV. She’d been reading some trashy law novel, but after a couple of hours she was two full glasses into a bottle and she’d lost interest. I shouldn’t say she’d lost interest: it was more like she couldn’t follow the plot. Candi had a tendency to get blasted and then get spacey and bubbleheaded. I’ve seen her do some really dumb things when she was half in the bag, and I personally felt she probably would have been happy as some blond bimbo who didn’t have a care in the world. ...

(story continues from Still Life)_ Part Two - Changing Parts I was two days in a window, and then three months in a box. It’s amazing how you outlook on life changes when you’re just a collection of parts in a cardboard container. It’d started a few months before with my girlfriend, Candi. She’d found some magic coin, or so she told me, and made a wish so that she could turn me into a mannequin whenever she wanted. I thought it was crap, but I was wrong; the magic worked. ...

(story continues from Still Life 2 - Changing Parts)_ Part Three - Mistaken Identities I fell to my knees, nearly tumbling off the podium. It was late at night: all the shoppers were gone. I was thankful I didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing or hearing me, ‘cause the moan that slipped out echoed throughout the store. I immediately sighed after I was finished moaning. My hope that only a couple of days would go by since Ronnie and I were “frozen” had turned into twelve days of display. I was sure Ronnie was still plastic, since she would have come looking for me had someone inadvertently changed her back to human. I was surprised to see that someone would say “Nora, real,” before they’d say “Rebecca, real.” Or some combination of people speaking thereof. ...