Stan was left in the small chamber he was brought to initially. He was worried about him admitting he was a cop. He slept on the floor, the hard tiled floor was going to be horrible on his back. Suddenly, Angel gripped his body out of the darkness again, she lifted him up and adjusted the lights to let him see a better view of his captor.
She was tall! Even from a normal person’s perspective, she was about 7 ft tall and at least 250 pounds. She wasn’t fat though, she had well toned abs and large biceps with tree trunk like thighs and a widely sculpted rear. Her skin was very tan and she had piercing green eyes. She only wore a black thong bikini and a balaclava that only showed her eyes and the bridge of her nose. She looked focused and angry.
“You insignificant insect. There is only one way to fix you. My own thoughts and the displeasure of Carlo have determined your sentence. Seven days of physical and mental training, mandatory.” She said. Stan was shocked, seven days straight of conditioning sounded like Hell! “Didn’t you hear me?!” She yelled. “Oh! Yes… Mistress Angel. Whatever you believe is necessary.” He said trying to be as compliant as possible.
Her response was less than expected. She growled like a beast and crushed Stan by clapping her other hand on top of him. “Insulant stain, your woman has to spend the first week of her vacation without a permanent Tiny! Don’t you care?!” Angel said gripping Stan’s body over and over again, molding his into the groves of her calloused hands. “You are in desperate need of this training.”
Angel set his blob body in the cleavage of her surprisingly perky breasts, just enough to let him reform but also to remained trapped indefinitely. Angel walked over to what looked like a large basin. “According to Carlo, Izzy was very dissatisfied with the Tinies offered to her, you should consider yourself lucky to have an owner who cares for you so. Here, all clothes of the guests are washed by hand, with the assistance of a tiny, here you shall become acquainted with the distilled essence of Isabella Lopez.” Angel said opening a paper bag with Izzy’s outfit from yesterday. Her spandex shorts with several tears, her sweaty b.o. riddled bra, her stretched tank top, her cheesy scented socks and of course, a XXL pair of hole filled and strained thong. There was a heat radiating off the underwear with the familiar scent of Izzy’s gas.
Angel picked the reforming Stan out of her tits and stretched him out. With her strong hands it was simple as he was wrapped around her palm. She then reached into his mouth and grabbed his tongue. He let out an instinctual “ack”. “What was that?” She said. Stan stayed quiet then she went to work wrapping his tongue around him. He now looked like a tan and red sponge. Stan was screaming internally as his tongue was now half of his mass and about to collided with Izzy’s soiled outfit.
Angel brought out a washboard then. slammed him down first on the tank top. What should have been easy was sour and salty with her sweat! He wanted to vomit but that’s not how his body worked currents. She moved onto the socks with her feet funk burning itself into his tastebuds. The bra was next, twice as bad as her tank top and this had direct contact. Next were her shorts, Stan cringed as he had now tasted the undercarriage of Izzy. Last, was the nightmare, the thong. Angel didn’t start this yet and gazed at the underwear. “So much going on with these. So large… so potent… she will need a strong tiny, by the time I am done, you will either be the strongest Tiny in this country, or a lowly speck, lower than a slave.” She said. Stan couldn’t properly discern anything in his surroundings, her words were filled with the Izzy tainted water and soap. She flung Stan onto her butt floss, he came to life in this moment, his whole body did one huge roll away as it tried to escape. The earth horrid taste of her vile butt, ingrained itself in his tastebuds, those that didn’t die would be forever traumatized by this.
Stan found relief as she rose him away from them, though it didn’t last. She slammed him down on the table, probable 20 times in a blind fury. “What! Is! The matter! With you?!” She screamed. “You have the opportunity men had never been afforded in the thousands of years of your pathetic gender!” Stan didn’t share her sense of grandeur about licking a thong clean, but he couldn’t express this as he looked like a tattoo on her hand.
Angel did something unexpected as she let him reform, completely. As Stain’s abused tongue worked it’s way back into his mouth, he cringed, visibly to the tormenter above him. “Prude. Weakling. You want to be of service to your owner’s magnificent rear and you can’t take the taste of a single pair of her underwear.” She said with her arms folded. “I’m sorry *cough* me and Izzy haven’t done anything like that before *cough* it was new.” He responded. “Then she is shy, when we are finished, your newly implanted enthusiasm will cure her of that.” That was by far the most terrifying thing Stan had ever heard come from someone’s lips.
Angel picked him up again, this time she made sure not to crush him, though her grip was tight. She held him back towards the thong. He tried to hold back his tears as the smell was too much. “Lick.” She said. Stan wanted to question this, but stopped himself and just laid in her hand not speaking. “I SAID LICK!” She yelled. Stan quickly stuck his tongue out, brushing the tip along the butt part, dragging some taste with him but not enough to make him react further. “You call that a lick?! You are going to lick the entirety of the panties clean or you will never see anything outside of this building again!” She boomed above.
Stan saw his own tears fall down and wet the world’s worth cloth below him. He placed his whole tongue on it and he quivered. The next few minutes we like years for Stan as all of Izzy’s funk rubbed along his tongue. Her butt was terrible, musty and fart riddled, next was the sour crotch of her camel toed underwear, her womanhood making him feel so violated. He licked it clean and Angel caressed his body with a thumb. “You have done as I have asked. However, you are still resisting. I need to properly understand how to meld your hopes and dreams to Ms. Lopez.” She said.
Stan couldn’t hear her. His mind was foggy, his tongue was a slimy foreign appendage to him. This was a brainwashing technique and he hated to admit it, but it was effective. He couldn’t imagine a world outside of that thong, he hated it, but trauma mixed with conditioning could do some terrible tings. What was next for Officer Padding?
1). Desire Therapy. Angel wants to further his brainwashing by subjecting Stan to a process to permanently cement an attraction or a programmed behavior toward Izzy in order to minimize his disgust.
2). Brute Force. Angel believes that Stan has not been properly punished for denying Izzy and decides to crush him into a more subservient mindset.
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