You know this look. This is the look that says you should have shut your mouth three bad jokes ago. You open your mouth to apologize, but Susie cuts you off.

“No, enough! We’re not shopping for new pointy hats, we’re not going to the mall by broomstick. I just wanted to have a chill day. Maybe hit the arcade, maybe even find something cute you’d like to see me in.”

Susie was a witch. She didn’t own a cauldron, and her childhood cat had been an orange tabby. She did dress in all black, but that was simple fashion sense. What she did have was an innate ability for spellcasting, a knack for transformation magic in particular, and a short temper for jokes. Something you really should have learned to stop testing sooner.

You try to apologize again, but she waves a finger and the words that should be leaving your mouth evaporate into silent air.

“You have no idea how tired I am of witch jokes. Actually, you do. Because I’ve told you. Thirteen times. So today you’re gonna be quiet, and useful, and really let it sink in, hm?” She smiles and waves her finger again and you feel your body…condensing, seems like the best word. In the span of a second, you drop from three inches taller than her to three inches flat and perfectly proportionate. She scoops you up, holding you with some care despite her irritation. Her black-painted lips curl into a grin. “Now let’s go to the mall.”

She carries you out the front door, but instead of veering left toward her car, she walks down the driveway and stops by the sidewalk. Then she tosses you into the air. Unable to scream, you toss and turn, but before you can hit the ground, you feel your body growing again, contorting and twisting into unfamiliar shapes. When you make contact with the curb, it’s not headfirst as a soon-to-be splattered tiny person, it’s wheels-first as a full-size, shiny black bicycle. With a black basket, to boot.

You stare up at Susie, confused as she looms over you at an odd angle and inspects your form, stroking her chin, then finally smiling with a nod. “Not bad, not bad at all. And it looks like your face wound up right where it belongs.”

Unable to turn your head or make heads or tails of your position, it takes her swinging her leg over you to realize just what’s happened. She plants her foot on the opposite pedal, and you feel the treads of her boots pressing into the rigid, mis-matched form of your pedal. Then her short, black skirt falls around you, blocking out the light, and your view is consumed by two plump, round ass cheeks chewing up her cute, spider-web print panties. Your face is the seat of her bike.

Susie leans over her shoulder and smirks. “It’s a long ride to the mall, but you know, I’ve been meaning to get more exercise. Let’s see how you do.”

Without another word or a moment’s pause, she lowers herself, driving your face into her warm, already slightly damp crack. Unbeknownst to you, she’d focused on a slight customization to your form, opting for a seat shape with a lifted ridge up the middle to really drive you in while still providing her a comfortable cushion just below it. The results exceeded even her hopes. As she shifts to get comfortable, smearing your faux-leathery face into her thankfully well-padded rear, you could swear you hear her purr. You have to admit, it’s sort of pleasant.

That is, until she lifts her other foot to start moving and her full weight settles onto you. If you thought you were being smothered before, the way her cheeks grind down on you, quickly slick skin sliding slightly up one side and down the other, then back, was an entirely different experience.

Each pedaling motion works you a little deeper. And as your face is driven into ass, your pedals (hands, maybe? No comparison really lines up with a bike.) groan under the thick soles of boots that weren’t made for this. Either to compensate for the awkward footwear or just because she was out of practice, Susie pedals hard. Your pedals shouldn’t be in danger of breaking, but at the base of each rotation just before the force lessens, it sure doesn’t feel like it.

Eventually, Susie settles into a good pace and her strides mostly even out. That doesn’t make things any easier for you, but it at least means a consistent rhythm to the battering her buns and boots bestow on you. Caught up in Susie, lungless, you’re physically unable to breathe, but somehow the scent of her permeates your body, and you can feel her sweat seeping into you, soaking your seat-face in her subtle stench.

Susie, either indifferent or potentially unaware of your plight, carries on as if you were the least interesting bike in the world, save for the pleasant sensation riding high along her way. The mall is two miles away from her place. Mostly a flat straight line. Not an unbearable bike ride, but definitely more of a workout than she was used to, and by the halfway point, she’s worked up a significant sweat. At least, she thinks, you’re learning a valuable lesson down there.

When she finally turns into the mall parking lot, she rides you up to a patch of bushes reasonably far away from any of the entrances and finally lifts her leg, freeing your face from the prison of her posterior.

Mentally, you gasp for air and try to blink the sweat out of your eyes, but your seat remains immobile, unchanged and and unreacting. Just a bike seat. You watch Susie tug at the front of her shirt, fanning herself. She’s absolutely dripping with sweat. This may have taken as much out of her as it did out of you.

“Phew…some workout, huh?” She looks down at you and smirks. “Worked up a nice sweat, didn’t we? Luckily, there’s a fix for that.” She waves her finger toward her head, then slowly moves its tip toward her toes. As it moves, the sweat vanishes from her body, leaving behind perfect makeup, pristine hair, and a fresh-cleaned outfit.

You, on the other hand, are still a sweaty bikeseat. She looks down at you and taps her finger. “What to do with you now? Hm…oh, I know!”

She points at you and you feel your body starting to shrink again, uncurling. Her sweat evaporates out of you with a truly bizarre sensation like your pores leaking upward all at once. Suddenly you’re a tiny human again, resting on the sidewalk. Susie scoops you up, but she isn’t done. She points one more time and you feel yourself compressing even further, but…somehow differently this time. You certainly aren’t growing. In fact, you feel practically flat. When the spell starts to wear off, you’re certain you’ve got no bones at all.

Susie lifts you toward her face, giving you a sniff. “Mm, my favorite flavor, too. You know how I love gum, darling.”

All the clues click in your mind. You’ve been reduced to a single stick of gum. Susie was a gum fiend. She could chew for hours, but more worrying than that, she craved the flavor. As soon as a piece was out of juice, she’d pop a new one in her mouth, or if she’d already added too many fresh sticks, she’d deposit the lightly chewed wad wherever there was a convenient surface and start fresh.

You’re trying to decide which is worse when Susie’s lips spread open and you’re unceremoniously inserted into her mouth. A string of drool connecting her top and bottom teeth glues itself to you, then you plop down onto her tongue and you’re instantly drenched as she savors your flavor. But that doesn’t last long before the powerful muscle slips you between her molars and she goes to town.

Susie chews you like any other stick of gum. She does you no favors, grinding any rigidity you have into paste in seconds as she makes for the mall entrance with a spring in her step. From the moment her lips seal you in, your entire world becomes a whirlwind of chaos and mastication. You’re repeatedly ground up by the force of her jaw, intensely aware of every sensation, though thankfully unable to feel pain. You can sense that you’re being put through the ringer, and any semblance of a consistent form is a distant memory. The whole experience is extremely disorienting.

The only reprieve you have is when she occasionally stops chewing to flatten you between her tongue and the roof of her mouth or to tuck you into her cheek, wedged between the soft wall and the stiff structure of her gums. These moments only last for a few seconds at any given time, but you quickly come to cherish them.

With no external stimuli to help you gauge it and nothing but the constant sensation of being chewed to occupy your mind, time starts to lose meaning and slow to a crawl. Even counting the seconds under pressure requires a concerted effort. It’s like your brain is being stretched apart, then snapped back together different each time her molars roll over you and her tongue folds your lumps back in on you.

Eventually, light floods the void, and you roll forward over the surface of her tongue. An unfamiliar, dry surface brushes against you, then another opposite it.

Susie pinches you between her fingers and pulls you out of her mouth. It takes you a moment to reconceive reality as her enormous face looms before you, expression somewhere between disinterested and disappointed. “Five minutes in and you’ve already lost your flavor. Bummer.”

Did she say five minutes? It’s only been five minutes. It felt like…god, an eternity, or realistically, hours at least. But wait, then what now?

Susie glances around to confirm there’s no one watching. The mall was pretty dead, and she was sitting on a bench in a relatively empty wing. Content, she points her finger at you and feel your form start to change again, grateful that this experiment is over and you won’t end up plastered to the underside of the bench underneath her.

But your form doesn’t change. Not significantly. The feeling you had turning into and back from her bike, first turning into her gum, doesn’t wash over you. All you feel is something like your spine being rebuilt from the base up. You’re solid again, at least. Wait, but then-

Susie pops the brand new stick of gum into her mouth, returning you to the hell you’ve only briefly escaped, filling it anew with a soft “mmm.” A few more chews, then, “I like this. That new gum flavor as many times as I want. I think we’re gonna do this for a while.”

That’s the last thing she says to you before she carries on her way. Another eternity of chewing, losing your mind inside her mouth. The next time the light shines in on you, she doesn’t bother pulling you out. Instead, she just points and you reform brand new sitting on her tongue. No rest, no break. Just reincarnation after reincarnation as a berry-flavored bad habit.

At one point, she speaks. You’re having a hard time piecing together exactly what she’s saying, but it sounds like she’s in the food court? She’s…ordering something. Food? God, finally. If she stops to eat, she’ll have to take you out.

But you weren’t so lucky. Susie’s appetite was plenty sated. She just wanted a drink. Rather than freeing you, she introduces a new aspect into your experience. You have time to register the straw as her lips wrap around it, and then an ice-cold tidal wave of cola washes over you, sending you knocking around between her teeth, pinballing this way and that, then coming to rest on her tongue as she swallows. You’re drenched, cold, and sticky. And unfortunately for you, that’s all the flavor restoration Susie needs for now.

Gnashed around in her maw, then drenched in a sugary soft drink tsunami, helpless as its tide drags you toward the back of her throat on more than one occasion. She never swallows you, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying each time.

You think about that old wive’s tale about swallowing gum and it sitting in your stomach for years. You’re pretty sure that isn’t true, but the alternative, digestion, doesn’t sound any better for you. Filled with thoughts of stomach acid, you try to stop thinking about anything at all.

Hours pass and Susie gets bored and decides to drive home, before remembering in her infinite wisdom that she used you to get here. She really isn’t feeling up to another bike ride even if it meant giving you another session smushed up her butt, so instead she bites the bullet and calls a ride on her phone.

By this point, you’re tucked in her cheek. She’s tired of chewing you, but her hands are full of bags and she doesn’t feel like coming up with something new for you to be, but she doesn’t think you’ve learned your lesson. This iss the closest thing to relaxing you’ve been able to do for hours, and you gladly take the opportunity as she rides home.

When she gets there, Susie tromps inside, drops the bags haphazardly, and lazily pulls you out of her mouth. With a tired wave of her finger, you finally feel your body start to tingle, real structure returning to your insides as your skeleton returns, and once again you confirm you’re a tiny, slightly damp human in her hand. You want to shout at her, you want to beg for mercy, but in this moment, all you can do is breathe heavily and be grateful you can breathe at all.

Susie looks exhausted. You’re almost annoyed at the gall of her to look more tired than you are after the day you’ve had. Despite that, she speaks up. “What a day. I’m beat. I think it might be time for a nap…that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook yet, though.”

Before you’ve even had time to get comfortable in your body, you feel yourself changing again, expanding, but getting lighter. The bones you so cherished are gone again just like that, and any structure you have is now contained around your outer edges.

Susie holds you up, a bat-shaped throw pillow with a cute little face, filled to bursting with stuffing. She smiles. “This is the cutest you’ve ever been. Where did I see this…eh,  probably online somewhere.”

Leaving her bags by the door, she moves further into the house, tossing you toward the couch. You land in the corner, leaned perfectly against the arm, watching her through your little bat eyes as she smirks. “I’ll give you a break and save you joining me in the bathroom, because I’m nice. Thank me later…”

And with that, you’re left alone, nothing but a pillow on her couch. You want to be mad, but honestly, you’re still reeling from the day, and any moment of rest, as unfamiliar and bizarre as it is, is something you’ll gladly take. But it doesn’t last long.

The front door swings open just a minute after Susie disappears from view, and in walks her roommate Beth. Beth shares Susie’s love for all things black. She was dressed in a very similar get-up to what Susie was wearing. She also had six inches on Susie, and a notably thicker figure. Which ordinarily you’d appreciate. Beth was gorgeous. She’d drunkenly flirted with you on more than one occasion, and if you hadn’t been dating Susie, you might have pursued that later, with clearer heads.

But as she teeters into the room and peels off her black sunglasses to reveal eyes that say, “bottomless mimosas were a choice,” and locks them on you, your position as an adorable, over-stuffed pillow on her couch gives you second thoughts.

She pries off her boots with remarkable ease, then moves toward you with something between determination and resign, letting out a long, low sigh. She never takes her eyes off you. She comes to a stop in front of the couch, and you stare up at her. From this angle, she absolutely towers over you, and the soft smile that appears on her face does not inspire confidence. She says one word. “Cute…”

Then all in one motion, she half leans into, half tumbles onto the couch, and her face slams into your cushiony body. You brace for impact as much as your motionless body can, but despite her head being half your size and coming in hot, she lands with a delicate plop, neither of you worse for wear.

The weight of her sinks into your body, compressing you underneath her. The scents of her hairspray, her makeup, her lotion, and the lingering cocktails on her breath hit you all at once as she sighs again, this time audibly less irritated as she settles into the couch. She nuzzles her cheek against you, and you feel particles of sun-worn makeup smearing ever so slightly into you. Her whole body shifts as he adjusts herself on the couch, grinding you back and forth as she does.

When she finally gets comfortable, she’s managed to twist your body, turning you nearly ninety degrees and snuggling your right wing under her, curving around her neck and brushing against something just a touch lower. More prominent though is her face, looming directly above yours. Her gargantuan mouth gapes open as she lets out a yawn, hot breath washing over you and giving you a taste of what’s to come as she mumbles. “Just take a…quick nap…”

Moments later, she’s out cold. It would almost be impressive, if it didn’t mean she was snoring directly into your face. And with her mouth hanging wide open, there’s nothing you can do but watch as a bead of saliva starts to amass at the corner of her lips, growing larger and larger until it starts to slip down her cheek, racing toward its final destination: you.

The drool lands square in the little red indent that is your “mouth.” Thankfully that’s just as much “for show” as every other part of you, but that doesn’t stop the sticky, warm liquid from soaking into you, a creepy, oozing sensation you are all too aware of.

It feels like she’s been coating you for an hour when Susie finally comes back. Mentally, you cry out for help, but the cartoonish bat face of the pillow remains unmoved as your girlfriend surveys the situation. Then she smiles. Under her breath, she says “You know…this is better than what I had planned. Have fun, little bat~”

She blows you a kiss and smirks as she walks out of the room. A few minutes later, she returns with a blanket, quietly unfolding it and draping it over her unconscious roommate. She stops to admire your smothered form, then walks away again.

Susie didn’t speak to you again that day. However she winds up spending the rest of her day, it doesn’t involve you. After a while, she stops even turning her head to look when she passes through the living room.

Beth, for her part, is conked out for the better part of the evening. Mercifully, her mouth dries out eventually and the flow of drool stops, but that still leaves you slightly crusty and plastered to her face for hours. She shifts in her sleep on occasion, but any movement away from you is always followed by her sleepily burrowing back in.

It’s well past dark when Beth groggily starts to stir. You haven’t seen Susie for hours, and you’re starting to get worried about when she’ll finally come change you back. As far as you’re concerned, you’ve learned your lesson ten times over. Legitimately. You’ll never tell another witch joke in your life. Or any joke, for that matter.

Fate, so much as there is such a thing, does not agree with your assessment. When Beth sits up, blanket draped over her shoulders, her hand snakes around you, pulling you in and clutching you against her belly. Having slept the day away, you assume she must have something else planned for the night. And that plan apparently involves you.

Beth stands up, wobbling slightly, and heads to the kitchen. She pours a glass of water, downs it in one go, then pours another, all with one hand, maintaining her vice grip on your body.

All the while, her forearm digs into your back. Each time she takes a step or shifts slightly, she smears your face into her stomach. You have nowhere to go and nothing to do but soak in the sensation of her skin sinking to embrace you and wait for her to finish and move on to her destination.

Eventually, thirst sated, she stomps toward the stairs with you in tow. Slowly, deliberately, she pulls herself up one by one. She’s not (very) drunk anymore, but her nap was the sort of restless sleep that makes you want to go straight back for seconds. And that was exactly her plan.

Beth gingerly opens the door to her room, some small part of her wanting to be considerate to her roomie, and tosses the cozy little bat onto her bed. You spin through the air, landing upside down and lopsided against a lazily assembled wad of pillows and stuffed animals. Unable to move, you take in the view before you. The messy floor, half-open drawers with various black shirts, socks and underthings hanging over the lips. And something that makes your blood run cold. A bat-shaped pillow tossed haphazardly onto a pile of dirty laundry. Its motionless face stares back at you, and somehow you recognize this nocturnal plush as your exact duplicate. This must have been where Susie got the idea.

In the corner of your vision, Beth sways into view, makeup scrubbed from her face hastily, but mostly effectively. She pulls the back dress over her head and tosses it out of sight, then wastes no time unlatching her bra and slinging it along the same path. It’s enthralling, despite the casual nature of the display. You feel a little bad, but you physically can’t stop yourself staring, you have no eyelids. Not to mention, you can’t help but think about what comes next for you as she works her thong down her thighs and sends it soaring into the same pile, then comes for you.

Exhausted and, as far she knows, alone, Beth crawls into bed, snatching up the little bat and cradling it close as she tugs the comforter up and seals you in with her. You settle against her, one wing cradling her neck, your body and face buried between her breasts, where an entire afternoon nap’s sweat has been brewing and stewing and eagerly shares with you. Your other wing is half-flattened under her belly. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you in tight, and she nuzzles your wing one more time and slowly drifts off to sleep.

For Beth, the night is peaceful from this point on and she sleeps soundly until morning. For you, it’s a maelstrom of constantly shifting compression as she snuggles deeper, occasionally dragging you up and down in her sleep. As the night goes on, she slowly rolls onto her stomach, flattening your entire body underneath her. You lay there for hours, unable to sleep, baking underneath her, soaking up her sweat with no barrier of clothing to save you and nothing to break up the unending darkness but the sound of her snoring and her shifting weight as she fidgets.

Some time after daybreak, in a fit of unaware mercy, she finally rolls back onto her side far enough to let one of your eyes peek out from beneath her boob. The blanket is pulled aside, but you’re still practically entombed under her. That’s when you hear the bedroom door creak open. A beam of light creeps into the room, and just on the edge of your vision, you see Susie.

“God, I don’t know how she sleeps so hard. Where the hell did she put it?” she mumbles quietly. You try to scream, but as has been the case all day and all night, your thoughts are entirely your own. Helpless, you watch her trudge through the room, eyes turning this way and that, falling on you for half a second before drifting away. “Oh, there you are…”

Your now-metaphorical blood runs cold as she leans down and picks up the other bat from the floor, waving a finger at it. It expands in her arms, surface shifting and growing until it outgrows her grip and before her stands a mirror image of you dressed in yesterday’s clothes, looking wide-eyed and confused.

Susie seems unphased. Obviously you’d be stunned after the night you’d had. She asks, “Have you learned your lesson now?”

The clone you thinks hard for a moment, then croaks out “…yes?”

“Good. Then come make it up to me.” She grabs the collar of the stuffing-brained clone’s shirt and tugs it out of the room in a gesture that’s always driven you crazy in the best way.

You cry out for dear life as your fluff-brained doppelganger meekly follows her out of the room and the door swings shut on any chance of you changing back. Beth, still unconscious, pulls you in tight, nuzzling your new, permanent form and welcoming you to your new life. She smacks her lips and starts to drool.

#

Susie was surprised how well a day of various transformational torture had worked. You never made another witch joke, never even brought up your the day from hell or even commented on it. She’d almost started to feel bad, but it must not have been too terrible if you could just brush it under the rug like that. The sex was fine, and you were quieter than usual, but a little fear was probably overdue.

In the coming days, life was great. She kept remarking to herself on the total transformation you’d undergone. You were so much more attentive, you hung on her every word, and you never argued when she asked you to do something. She couldn’t be happier.

It was almost like this little experiment had left you a brand new person.