Careful What You Wish For (Chapter 9) (Patreon)

“Well, look who’s back. I thought I lost you for good there, slave. And wouldn’t that have been such a shame?” Kayla said, addressing Cody’s facial mound grown in the center of the cloth, though her smarmy tone and ear-to-ear grin suggested anything but concern for his wellbeing. “Kidding, obviously. I’m not sure if your shrinky-dink brain can still process sarcasm, so I figure I have to point it out. Especially when so much of that already-tiny head is so obsessed at every second with staring down some chick’s nasty bare feet, instead of where your next gulp of air is going to come from. Obviously I chose to hit the off-switch on your brain for a few days. No offense, but you can be a little bit of a lot sometimes, and I figured I could use a break for a while. Okay, fine, I take back the no-offense part. Plus, you didn’t really think I was going to let you actually dig your stupid desperate little creep-face up in Diane’s ass, right? HA! In your dreams. I’ll bet you got yourself so riled up there, thinking you’d pulled one over on me. But whatever, I brought you back now because I need some help from a thing like you. Really, I can’t think of many better uses for you than as a sweat rag. It describes you perfectly: always there when you need it, to soak up everything too gross for anyone else to deal with, and then you can just discard it when you’re done and forget all about it. See, you do have a purpose, sort of, if you just look hard enough. You’re welcome!”

Chuckling, the brunette ponytailed giantess immediately flattened Cody’s malleable gray-sheeted body up against her own face with whiplash-speed and then proceeded to roughly mop the absorbent cloth wrinkles across her lovely yet visibly perspiration-glistening features. Yet again, the genie-damned creature endured sensations far outside any prior human experience he’d had, as he felt every cottony square inch of his helpless body mimicking the exact shape of Kayla’s flushed expression like a sphinx, and then beginning to collect every greasily bittersweet droplet of her efforts into his easily-penetrated fibers. For once, his service as one of the giantess’s everybody objects wasn’t hurtfully tortuous – at least not yet – but certainly violating in a way that Cody never could’ve understood until he was literally wadded and scoured across her forehead, cheeks, and neck while feeling her sweat begin to weigh him down, and tasting every solitary smear of it that entered his hybridized being. His own mini-humanoid countenance, too, took a smothering dose of the stuff, having no choice but to huff up that juicily-beaded brininess as though he was actively chugging it like sour beer through every single thread of his rag-form, not just his shrunken nose and lips.

Once she’d sufficiently dried this latest layer of liquid exertion, leaving Cody a dizzied half-damp bundle in her fist again, Kayla slung him over her shoulder and resumed her workout. Though his view was limited, the transformed victim could feel the machine-like determination and raw power building within her, clenching and releasing beneath her tan flesh as she pumped iron and subtly sculpted her physique to greater perfection. Dressed in a dark-blue sleeveless tank top, thigh-complimenting spandex shorts, and jet-black sneakers without a hint of an elastic sock lip poking out the tops, the giantess made for an eye-catching idol in the mirror as she single-mindedly worked up a fresh layer of sweat, though any instinct Cody might’ve once felt to ogle such stunning athletic prowess had been killed in favor of the hopeless dread that Kayla’s every word and deed brought him, no matter how small.

Reminding him of this effect, she completed her sets and then streaked Cody’s cloth-body face-first along the sculpted bronze wall of her midriff just in time for him to catch several plump drops of tepid saltwater streaking their way down her skin toward the spandex beltline. Not even giving her sweat rag time to gasp or repulsively swallow the vinegar-tinctured liquid swabbed into him, she next polished him over and around the toned architecture of her arms, which at first wasn’t the worst thing in the world, until she dipped her pliable slave up into her armpits and really dug him stiffly against the tender, ticklish, and absolutely sweat-soupy flesh therein. Molested by a particularly spicy strain of these pore-oily slicks, not to mention a chalky taste from some flowery-feminine antiperspirant that was certainly not doing its job, Cody wheezed and trembled with uncomfortable disgust throughout every inch of himself, both cloth and human anatomy.

As if he wasn’t sick enough already, the rag-man was abruptly treated to a picnic blanket-style shake-out, as Kayla thoughtlessly swung his spread-out shape in midair to hurl away some of the surplus fluid that couldn’t be sopped into the already-doused acreage of his thin-dripping fabric constitution. Which did bring Cody relief for an instant, cooling as the breeze was, but this clearing-out of excess mess was apparently only done so the giantess could wipe him over her exhausted build anew. As she at last made her way back toward the lockers, or so he thought, the shrunken towel-inmate was simultaneously made to appreciate up-close each ultra-fit curve of Kayla’s limbs and torso, while continuing to digest her sloppy raining-down sweat trickles through every thread, until there wasn’t a dry one left in his slippery body.

Cody’s metaphysical divorcing from the rag couldn’t have come soon enough, as it felt like his whole unnatural drenched-cotton makeup was throbbing with enough putrid hot-saline runoff to melt the cloth apart into scraps. What the experience lacked in physical agony it made up for in repugnance, mock-suffocation, and slimy itch-factor. When Kayla did at last snap her fingers to render Cody a “free” man again, though, it definitely wasn’t under ideal conditions, as his suddenly-naked body was not only a highly-visible eighteen inches tall, but sporting a gullet-choking collar and a shamefully obvious hard-on. They weren’t in the locker room, either, but the gym’s wood-paneled sauna lounge, alone for the time being, with the nearly infant-sized slave marooned before his keeper’s black sneakers on the floor just before she unlaced and kicked them violently loose, allowing her sockless size-9s out to play.