This choice: Molded Into a Comfy New Yoga Mat • Go Back...Chapter #7Matt, The Living Yoga Mat (Part One) by: Unknown Reagan's eyes scanned the factory floor, the woman utterly unbothered by your pitiful squirms and wriggles. Finally, she spotted something that made her chuckle dryly. She then began crushing and squashing you into a lump, no doubt trying to remove your ability to reform quick enough to escape the automated production line after she tossed you onto it. Powerless to stop her, you found yourself contorted and molded into a blob, and she even neatly sliced your clothes to shreds with her fingernail, leaving you naked.
And then, with a cruel wave, Reagan flicked your miniscule body away.
She stood there against the railing, watching you fall and smirking as her aim rang true and you landed on the 'Gym Equipment' factory line. It was a relatively new addition to the Just Jacobs factory, added as the demand for the 'Masters of Tinex' (as the brand had become known online as a nickname of praise) to expand their unmatched skill and technique into more than just traditional clothing options. People wanted Just Jacobs to stick a hand in every fabric-related and fabric-adjacent pie, and Jenna and her team of shareholders were more than eager to oblige.
Not that it will last for much longer. Reagan sneered, watching your tan lumpy body bump against several other clumps of Tinex as you rumbled along the conveyor.
She hated tinies with a burning passion, her vitriol running so deep that she failed to realize her entire life was one big self-fulfilling prophecy. Her first girlfriend had broken up with her and chose a tiny instead, so Reagan had retaliated by smearing the guy onto the bottom of her boot for six whole months. When he was eventually found, Reagan was reprimanded so badly she had to retake the grade, and all her friends left her behind. That's what had kicked off her hatred of tinies in the first place.
From there, Reagan's violent actions against tinies, and the consequences that followed, only made her more stubbornly insistent that tinies were disgusting stains on the world better crushed and destroyed than left to roam free. She got expelled from high school once it was discovered that she'd superglued no less than three affected teachers to the inside of the toilet bowl in the faculty lounge (the longest having endured three months of unspeakable horrors until being rescued). She'd lost her job at the Maiden Mansion restaurant when some fat Chinese girl and her stupid tiny twin brothers bitched and moaned about 'seeing her swallow a poor tiny', and since it was Reagan's fifth infraction she'd been let go.
And then she'd tried to pivot to a job teaching tinies at her local gym, Focused Fitness, and had even landed the position for a few weeks. She'd done everything she could to instill fear and subservience into the roaches, and those who disobeyed found themselves adorning the sweaty and oblivious giantesses in the next-door yoga class. But eventually a tiny slipped away and blabbed to the boss, who was some uppity holier-than-thou Brazilian lady, and Reagan found herself not only tossed out the door but blacklisted from almost all Oakland businesses.
So she'd crawled back to her mom and begged for money, and her mother had loooooved that (having always told Reagan she'd be a failure in life). But she'd paid up, Reagan had left the state, and peddled around a few useless jobs for the intervening twenty years. No salaried positions, no upward mobility, no additional schooling, and not dates. Just twenty years of depression and uselessness, where the only sense of reprieve came from the infrequent tinies Reagan found wandering about that she'd snatch off the ground and have fun with until they broke.
And now she was here, back in Oakland, all because she'd been called out of the blue by some smooth-talking woman named Nickel, or Penny, or something, who'd tasked her with taking on a job at the Just Jacobs factory and helping to ruin a lady named Jenna Jacobs. And, after Reagan did some research and found out all that Jenna had done to help affected kind, she was more than happy to give the sanctimonious bitch a wake-up call and remind her that if you side with bugs, you'll get squashed like one.
Chuckling as she watched your body be grabbed by a robotic arm and begin being dragged into the nearest molding machine, Reagan smiled. For the first time in decades, she was feeling pretty good about herself.
*****
True to Reagan's plan, you'd been able to do nothing to escape the conveyor belt in time before the first arm grabbed you, as the Tinex orbs all around you bumped and jostled you ever forward. And as the arms grabbed you, you knew that you were about to be in a world of hurt. You'd been molded hundreds of thousands of times by all sorts of women, but never by a cold and unfeeling machine. A machine that wouldn't stop doing it's job no matter what, because it cared not a whit for your feelings or your cries.
Not that you could stop yourself from instinctually screaming in desperation, though, little good it did.
The machine was fast, efficient, and effortless. You were squashed flat in seconds, and then pulled tighter and tauter as multiple arms joined the fray to pinch and prod at your body. The cold and unfeeling machine went about its work like you were any other scrap of Tinex, and your very-much human self paid the price for it. You writhed in pain as you were pounded flat and then fluffed back up, every part of you being elongated and squeezed until you were roughly in the shape of a five-foot long by two-foot wide rectangle.
Your face was near the upper part of the rectangle, while your lower body made up the bottom half. Your arms and feet had ended up behind you while you were being crushed, and they composed the underside of your rectangular body.
The machine arm nearest to you retreated, and returned with an instrument not unlike a rolling pin. Your eyes went wide with panic, but there was nothing you could do as the machine pressed its tool down into you, and began to rub and grind against you. You wriggled in agony, but the pinching arms holding you were relentless, and the rolling pin did its work. Your human features were forcibly smeared and squashed away into nothingness as best as the rolling pin could. Your lips folded in over themselves, and your ears crumpled in half, making everything sound muted. Your eyes scrunched up together too, though you could still faintly see.
Finally, the moment you'd been fearing all along came, as you felt a cool misty spray wash over you. A few other sprays followed, until a giant cloud of mist congealed around you so badly you would've coughed and gagged had your mouth not been a useless mush. Your vision began to turn light-blue, and you realized that your entire body had just been dyed that same light-blue. And then, as you felt yourself tense and hardened, you knew that Full Length had been applied as well, and no without solvent, you'd remain trapped in your new form forever!
As a last insult, a final mechanical laser was lowered, and began using a heated tip to brand the corner of your body with the Just Jacobs logo. Of course, your luck being the worst in the world, the brand was right overtop of your right eye, and you silently howled in agony as your own pupil was branded with the name of your sister's company. The brand completely covered up your eye, searing into your skin and leaving a mark that could very well remain long after you escaped from this form.
Because...surely you'd escape...right? Surely Jenna would come and rescue you...right?
These thoughts continued to give you a small sliver of hope as the machine arms dropped you onto the other side of the conveyor belt, where you rumbled along towards the safety-check section of the factory, right before the shipping line. And though you couldn't have known it, your faith truly was tenuous as best. You now looked to all the world like a nice, pleasant, light-blue yoga mat. With almost all of your human features smeared away or otherwise dyed uniform blue, the only perceptible parts of you were the two tiny dots of your nose, and your left eye, and even then one would have to look exceptionally closely to both spot you and not confused you for a weird misprint or smudge.
Still, you clung to that hope, and said hope only rose as you spotted the two unaffected ladies manning the safety-check section. Surely they would spot you and save you, and this mess would be over before it had a chance to truly begin! Surely!
*****  You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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