(livingundies)
The shift went on as dully as it always does with Izzy. A few routine noise complaints, traffic violations and graffiti taggers. Needless to say, Stan was bored as all get out.
Then 5 o’ clock came around. Izzy parked their squad car at the station and walked inside with him on her palm. She was gazing off into the distance, basically on autopilot as she’s done this so many times. In her daydreaming state, she accidentally tripped on a crack in the precinct. Izzy managed to catch herself, unfortunately, by slamming the hand she was carrying Stan on down on a nearby desk. He was flattened instantly on impact. She quickly swiped her hand off the desk and kept walking.
Stan’s current orientation on her hand was his abstractly stretched body on her palm with his neck and head squished on her index finger with your painfully scrunched face on the tip. Worse of all, with how nonchalantly Izzy put her hands in her too tight pockets, it looked like she had forgotten all about her passenger on her hand. He hated the compression of her tight clothes as it held him in his 2D state.
Stan saw the sweet light once again, but his heart sank when he realized he was in the woman’s locker room. Izzy went to work unbuttoning her shirt, this was fine but strange being this intimately close to her as your face brushed past her bouncing breast glad to be out of their prison and across her admittedly soft skin down to her navel.
What came next however, was less pleasant. Izzy moved on to her pants, upon brushing them he could tell how moist they were. Stan knew firsthand how sweaty things got on her lower half, apparently that’s where she expelled heat. She unbuttoned and unzipped them quickly, but just long enough for his to get a whiff of their steamy muskiness. She pulled them down, kicking them into the locker with a wet slap. Her hands then hooked around the straps of her thoroughly abused panties. This grossed out Stan as his battered face met the damp cloth that reeked of her undercarriage. Izzy hiked them down revealing the runs in the seams and many holes, particularly around the waistband and on big one across the crack, thank God she didn’t cool him off today.
Stan thought the worst was over, but he was proved wrong when she brought her hand around to her now nude butt. His face was plunged into Izzy’s unfiltered rear, the slobbish woman then went to town scratching the lining of her cheek. He was in torment as he was rubbed ceaselessly into the slimy smelly wall. Then as quickly as it began it ended as Izzy yanked her now stinking hand out. As she brought her hand back to her side, Stan thought it couldn’t get any worse, but he was quickly proven wrong as a fart rang out with a *PRABT* as the gas filled the room! The scent was so bad, parts of His body actually peeled and curled! Unfortunately, not enough to free him.
Izzy then threw on some jeans, very tight ones at that, with a tube top and a pair of flip flops. She was off with Stan still in tow, much worse for wear. Outside she got a text which she checked right away, when she lifted up her other hand to respond she noticed something. Upon looking closer she chuckled. “Sorry, Stan.” Was all Izzy said as she peeled him off completely and tossed him behind her back callously. He hit the ground like an old sock and all he could do was watch her walk away with her gigantic cheeks jiggling wildly.
After about ten minutes, Stan finally reformed an groggily made his way back into the building. He liked his locker room, a miniature area with only one row, apparently they weren’t expecting many more recruits and of course a bathroom area. First things first, he hopped into the shower and began the long journey that was scrubbing off Izzy’s funk. He wasn’t sure how long he had been in there and he didn’t care, he was going to clean until he felt comfortable again. He exited the shower and saw that the clock read 8 o’ clock, he had spent a lot of his downtime. Stan then threw on his street clothes and head out.
Thankfully his trip home was met without incident. He ran as quickly as he could to the tiny elevator and pressed the button to his floor, desperately trying to avoid any ditsy neighbors or random sadists that seemed to hide around every corner. Then Stan was home, a door which was differently colored than the rest of the wall, indicating it’s installation post-shrinking virus. To any passerby it might’ve looked like a safe in the wall, but it was actually a tiny apartment. They were hard to find and even harder to find one that wasn’t awful. Inside was the essentials living room with a couch and tv, stove and fridge, finally a bedroom which was more like a closet for his bed as there was hardly any room to move in there. The bathroom on this floor was communal with the exception of the renovated one’s on the opposite side of this floor. This situation led to some serious mishaps for Stan over the years. He sat down on his couch and rubbed his eyes, exhausted from a less than stellar day. However, he had the weekend to look forward to as today was Friday. Before he could think to make plans, his phone suddenly rang.
Who was it?
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