(livingundies)
The morning came and Izzy hadn’t even bothered to let her prisoner see the light whatsoever as she put on a pair of jean shorts that were beyond skin tight with a black tube top and flip flops. As she got ready the incessant jiggling and grinding of her cheeks reduced Stan to a wad of putty. She marched down the stairs as her building’s elevator was broken. She sat down hard and sped off to the Reunion.
Izzy had stopped for a few breakfast burritos along the was, much to his chagrin. She also ordered a chocolate milk, which reacquainted him with her lactose intolerant fueled monster farts. *PRRRRAAAAAABBBBBTTTT* Five days of this?! Stan thought. Hopefully, he wouldn’t spend too much time squashed, hopefully the wanted him reformed to ask him questions. They drove a while, several hours, and he had a front row seat to her horrid swamp crack.
Eventually, the car stopped and Izzy finally freed her sopping wet faux boyfriend. She wrung out Stan’s damp form and laid him out on the dashboard while she touched up her makeup. “Alright, don’t screw this up and don’t embarrass me.” Considering that she was the farting pig of the group, he found it hard to find a way to embarrass her. Once he was 3D again, he hopped on her hand and they walked outside.
As soon as they did, Stan was met with a sea of Izzys. The family resemblance was strong, most were bigger than her and few were slimmer. All of them scantily clad half naked and very tomboyish. Multiple wrestling matches and foot ball games were going on as they walked. He was beginning to see where Izzy’s personality came from. What scared him the most though, was that he hadn’t seen a man yet. Meaning either they weren’t invited or they were out of immediate sight, he gulped.
They came to a table filled with women in a circle (still no men). “¡Hola Chicas!” Izzy said inflecting her rarely used hispanic accent. The table erupted in happy women that swarmed her and Stan. Izzy gripped, carefully however, not crushing him. He rattled around in her fist as she hugged and kissed an army of cheery women. Many of them dispersed leaving three behind. Izzy opened her fist and he saw them.
Out in front was her mother Josefa. Same build as Izzy with just a bit more fat here and there. Gray streaks in her hair and a few crow’s feet around her eyes. She was the most conservatively dressed with a pair of linen shorts that came down to her knees and a flannel blouse. These days she was the warden of Rhea County Prison, but also had years of experience out on the street prior to that.
Next to her was Izzy’s aunt Gabby. She was drastically different to Josefa, she was close to six feet tall with lesser but still big curves. Noticeably in her thunder thighs that led to a pumpkin sized tush hardly contained by some athletic shorts heavily wedgied in her crack and a crop to holding back her heavy jugs. She was Josefa’s younger sister and apparently adopted their father’s pre-virus height. Gabby was a social climber in her city, being promoted to detective then captain within a few short years. Now she holds a prestigious job within her department sitting at a desk most days.
Lastly was Izzy’s cousin Emilia. She was from a part of the family that intermingled with Brazil and it showed, she was about 5’7” and insanely curvy, especially in her thick toned booty. She had an athletic build with a tight tummy and toned limbs with moderate C cup breast. While this was beautiful, there was something ugly about her, namely that every article of clothing she was wearing was made out of a Tiny! From her sports bra top, to her skin tight shorts, tow her flip flops and even her whale tailed thong, all of them had the familiar fleshy consistency of a living person. She saw Stan take notice of this and gave him a lusty wink. Emilia had been a cop only for a few short years, before she started a career as an influencer, advocating for a Tiny’s right to be used, while modeling on the side.
“Oh my gosh! He’s so cute! You lucky girl!” Gabby said crouching down to his eye level with a huge smile. “Uh, thanks, Gabby. Hey Emilia, you look different.” Izzy said taking notice of her clothes. “You like em? Don’t worry, they all like their positions.” She said twirling and then leaning down. “You see, I’m a polygamist, hun. All my clothes are my husbands, well except for Pablito.” As she said this a small man emerged from her cleavage and kissed her neck with great passion. “It’s great right my fellow, Used.” The man said, sending a wave of fear down his spine.
The Used were a group of Tiny activists that were a seedy group of perverts that enjoyed being objectified. These men sought out women to have them use them as clothing, objects or slaves or anything really. Which to each their own, but the problem with them is that they spread lies and propaganda about how all tinies feel this way and have even engaged in somewhat cult like activities. Brainwashing Tinies who don’t want to be treated this was in barbaric hidden lairs. None of this could be traced back to the official organization however. That all being said, why was this man referring to him as one?! What had Izzy told them?!”
“Oh that’s right, don’t worry. We’re a forward thinking family here.” Gabby said ash she peeled off her shorts revealing a Caucasian man stretched into a thong struggling to support her massive hips. “This cute little guy used to be my neighbor before he made it clear to me that his life’s mission was to be a thong, more power to him right.” She said jiggling her cheeks battering the stringed man. “Darn right. Oh and Stan, allow me to introduce Izzy’s father Tomas.” Josefa said unbuttoning her shorts letting her massive cheeks wobble about. Stretched around them were a slightly paler hispanic man stretched into a pair of panties with his face at the back stretched into a smile.
Stan was horrified and looked up at Izzy who just shrugged. “Most women here use Tiny’s in a similar manner and us Lopez women have a thing for members of The Used party. Not to worry though Officer Padding, everybody has all their licenses for each of their men, as a law abiding family we insist upon it. Knowing you’re on the up and up we won’t ask for your’s. He didn’t have one! Had Izzy told them he did?!
Something was building in him, fear mixed with his survival instincts. What was to happen to Stan at this gathering?!
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