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Aria yawned and fiddled with her keys. It had been a long day, and she'd been looking forward to just getting to her couch and unwinding with some TV. Before she could, though, according to her landlord she had a special delivery that she had to grab from the front desk.

"I don't understand why it couldn't have waited until the morning," she mumbled.

"I don't know. The delivery lady was very insistent that you get it to your room as quickly as possible," he said.

She unlocked her mailbox and discovered a delivery that didn't seem terribly special. It was wrapped in brown paper and looked like it had been packaged and mailed quickly. An excessive amount of postage plastered one whole side, and packing tape practically cocooned the parcel, printed with the message "Urgent: Open Immediately." She grabbed it, locked her mailbox, and finally headed up stairs.

She tossed down the box and fixed herself some dinner. Contrary to the package’s instructions, she had no particular interest on opening it immediately. Then it started buzzing.

“What the…” she muttered.

Aria cocked her head to the side and eyed the box. It was shaking violently now, enough to nearly rattle itself from the table. Her curiosity overruled her contrariness and she tugged the package in front of her. The buzzing stopped just as she was tearing the last of the wrapping away. When she opened the lid, she discovered something very odd.

“Who the heck sent me this?” she said, pulling the contents from the box and setting them down.

It was a bottle. And only a bottle. No message, no instructions. There wasn’t even any packing material. She leaned forward and squinted through the thick glass. No, there was packing material. But it was all on the inside of the bottle. It was rather impressive that so many packing peanuts into what looked to be barely a quart-size bottle, but otherwise the only interesting thing was the cap.

Rather than a simple screw-on cap or cork, the cap was a donut shaped piece of electronics. There was actually a hole in the center, so maybe “cap” wasn’t the right word for it. A small red light flashed on one side, beside a tiny label marked “Full”. No amount of shaking managed to dislodge so much as a single packing peanut, as they were packed in there pretty tight.

She scratched her head, then poked around at the rest of the cap. There were controls. One was an unlabeled toggle switch. The other was, if the symbol beside it could be believed, a timer button. She tapped the timer, but all she got was a disappointing buzzer sound. With no other option, she clicked the toggle.

This, it turns out, was a mistake.

The cap produced a sharp “DING” sound and then started buzzing. A few seconds later it started firing out the packing material like some sort of high-powered nerf cannon. In moments it had completely emptied its contents all over house. When the startling display was over, and the last few pieces of styrofoam were fluttering to the ground, Aria blew them off the table with an irritated huff.

“Real funny. Great prank.” She said flatly.

She picked up the bottle.

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure this one out,” she said. “If it could blow them out, obviously that first bit of buzzing was it sucking them in. So I can just use it to clean up after itself.”

She picked the bottle up, inspected the controls and simply flicked the toggle again.

This, it turns out, was a big mistake.

The cap started buzzing much more aggressively. Whatever was inside the cap that facilitated the suction must have been spinning pretty fast, because the whole bottle torqued itself out of her grip and started spinning on its edge on the table. Each time its mouth wobbled in her direction, she could feel a potent rush of wind toward it.

“Whoa, okay. Maybe I should turn that power down just a bit,” she said.

She swiped at the bottle, trying to catch it. All she managed to do was knock it across the table and tip it from rotating on a corner to classic “spin the bottle” position. It made two quick revolutions, then rattled to a stop like a compass needle, with Aria as due north.

“Uh…” she said, uncertainly as it rattled menacingly on the table.

The breeze toward its buzzing opening was just short of terrifying. She carefully stepped aside, but it rotated to face her again. A soft click beneath to terrible buzzing signaled a switch to an even higher power. The bottle launched from the table. Thanks to the stiff breeze tugging at her shirt, her belly was half-revealed. The ballistic bottle struck bare flesh right above her belly button. For a few seconds it made a rude raspberry noise against her skin.

“Oh, man,” she grumbled, grasping the bottle tightly and trying to tug it free. “This is going to give me a hickey, isn’t—”

Another soft click, and a still more potent buzz. She felt a sharp tug at her belly, then heard and felt a weird squeaky slide and the bottle vanished beneath her shirt. A firm, smooth tightness slid both up and down her belly and her view of the room jerked downward, like she’d gotten shorter.

She didn’t have much time to consider it, because the long, slow squeak wasn’t stopping, and neither was the creeping pressure of cool, smooth glass. She tried to fumble at her shirt, but two very distracting things happened at once. Her body folded neatly backward, allowing her whole midriff to slurp bonelessly into the bottle. It should have been agonizing, but it just felt tight and intense, like she was being pinched, squeezed, and kneaded by impossibly strong hands. That would have been an intense enough sensation on its own, but in this case it was coupled with the slurp of her hips and groin into the bottle.

Aria gasped as the sensitivity of her privates spiked to unbearable levels. The bottle clinked to the floor along with her rapidly compacting body. Every inch of her flesh that squeezed through the mouth of the bottle squeezed the rest of her tighter, amping up the stimulation. Her pants and panties were sliding down, crumpling up along with her shirt at the mouth of the bottle as she was vacuumed right out of them. For a few precious moments her breasts brought the inward progress to a stop. They jiggled and pinched, then…

***SL-POP-POP***

In they went. Pert nipples squidged along the glass and sunk inside. With the last substantial bit of her body through the mouth, the bottle made short work of the rest of her. Her head yanked inside with a *FOONK*. Grasping hands and twitching feet vacuumed inside with a final, pathetic squeak.

Once she was fully packed inside, the buzzing came to an end and the indicator helpfully illuminated “Full” again.

If Aria could think straight, she probably would have been asking how this was possible. Her whole body was packed into a bottle barely large enough to hold a quart of milk. She shouldn’t have survived. She shouldn’t have fit. She shouldn’t be able to breathe. But the raw, inescapable stimulation was all her mind could handle. Her eyes squeaked against the glass as they fluttered and blinked. They were all that could be seen of her blissful expression, as the rest of her blushing face was buried in the cleavage of the bare breasts that were mashed flat against much of the bottle’s front. Any attempt to move simply squeaked her flesh a fraction of an inch against the glass, and with so much of her body squeezed so tightly, every last twitch of her motion caused her clit to ring against the bottom of the bottle like a finger run over the rim of a wine glass.

It would have been nice to suggest her struggles were attempts to escape, but mostly she was just basking in the jolt of stimulation each of her struggles caused. A bit of twisting and quivering was all it took to push her over the edge. An orgasm rocked her compressed body, visible from the outside as little more than a slight jiggle, some gentle squeaking, and a muffled squeal.

The haze of lust and pleasure was slow to clear. The only thing that kept her from slipping right back into a sequence of whimpers and twitches was the layer of perspiration that now glazed her body took the edge off the friction as she slipped and slid against the thick glass. Thus, she was faintly aware as the bottle tilted up and raised from the ground.

She squinted through the glass to see a fiendishly grinning face peering down at her as the bottle was easily cradled in her uninvited guest’s hand. Aria shuddered as she recognized the face. It was her former roommate, Stacy. Stacy had been in something of a one-sided rivalry for the last six months, ever since Aria had gotten the job she’d been gunning for.

“Well, well, well,” Stacy said. “What have we here?”

Stacy pulled the high-tech cap off, and, with an ominous squeak, eased a cork in to seal Aria inside. A rush of new fears and concerns filled what little of her mental bandwidth could be salvaged from within her cool, tight prison. How did Stacy get in? What did she have planned for her, now that she’d been neatly bottled?

Stacy opened up her large purse and dropped Aria’s bottle in with a clink and a jingle. For better or worse, that last question was likely to be answered soon enough.

~~~

The next time Aria saw anything besides Stacy’s keys and some stray packs of gum was when she was fetched like a bit of groceries and set on a kitchen counter. It was a somewhat smaller and messier apartment than Aria’s own. Aria squished and slid about, slithering her compressed body against the glass to try to get a better look. The sensation of dragging her nipples and slit against the glass made it hard to concentrate, and each little bit of motion threatened to slip her head entirely between her squashed breasts.

What she saw as she squidged her way in circle didn’t set her mind at ease. There were strange, two part molds set up and waiting for filling. A roll of stickers with a rude-looking logo sat beside them. Eventually, her blinking eyes settled upon something that stirred dread in the pit of her stomach. There was a pot of water simmering on the stove. And beside it, a pair of tongs.

“Well, Aria?” Stacy said, plucking up the bottle. “Time to make yourself useful.”

She eased the cork from the bottle with a startling pop, then raised the opening to her face and took a deep whiff. She shut her eyes and tipped her head back, like a wine snob making a show of sampling the bouquet.

“Someone has been enjoying themselves in there,” she jabbed.

Stacy giggled to herself and dangled the bottle over the simmering water.

“Prepare to get hot and bothered…”

Aria’s eyes opened wide and she released a muffled whimper. Stacy slowly lowered her down until the bottle plunked into the water.

The heat was intense, but surprisingly, not unbearable. There was no pain. At least, if there was pain, it was hidden beneath the tingle and pinch of the constant pressure. The temperature began to rise, adding a good deal more perspiration to the thin glaze she’d worked up. Aria found her squashed-down body could slip and slide even more easily. Getting her tangled limbs to obey her was difficult, but with a bit of effort, she managed to inch her foot up to the mouth of the bottle. Supreme effort allowed her to pop one dainty foot free.

“Uh-uh-uh,” Stacy scolded, her voice barely audible over the burble of the pot.

Her captor gingerly pushed the foot, easing it back in, then gently squeezed the cork back in place. Aria fought at her containment for a minute or so, but as the temperature ticked higher, she found herself becoming sluggish. It wasn’t that she was tired. She just felt… looser. Like her squeezed-tight muscles were too relaxed to obey her. Then something else started to happen. All of the tiny little spaces in the bottle began to fill in. She wondered if perhaps Stacy was somehow adding something to the bottle, but she realized that accompanying that sensation was another. A sort of… blurriness of form. Her breasts ceased to feel like two tightly squeezed orbs and sort of FLOOMPED together into a single mass. Her twisted up arms and legs eased into the increasingly gooey plushness of her rump and thighs.

She was melting.

Any attempt to move now just caused a gentle slosh and wobble. Gradually, her fluttering eyes sunk down into the flesh-tone goop.

For a few minutes, her senses started to blend a bit. She couldn’t see anymore, but she still had a sense of her surroundings. She could feel that she was easing down into the shape of the bottle. Her senses of smell and taste combined into a smooth blend. She started to feel little ripples of pleasure as bubbles started to rise through her and burst on her surface.

“There. That should do it.” Stacy said.

Aria didn’t so much hear her as feel her voice as vibrations through the bottle. She felt her glass prison lifted. Every little bit of motion sent tremors of pleasure through her body. Her erogenous zones had blended with the rest of her body. Coupled with how densely packed her nerves were, it made the slightest clink against the glass feel like a firm, loving stroke across her slit.

A thin spoon slipped through the mouth of the jar and plunged down into her. Her pleasure spiked to a mind-numbing degree as her brains were literally scrambled by a vigorous stirring. She couldn’t whimper or moan. She just endured a constant, prolonged orgasm as she was mixed into uniform consistency, then decanted into something soft and bouncy. She could feel herself filling a new void, taking its shape. She was being poured into a mold now. It was a tight fit, but with some jiggling and slamming, every last drop of her trickled inside.

Without the constant heat, her body started to congeal again, but confined in the mold, it couldn’t return to its proper configuration. She could tell that she was starting to separate into her component parts again. Her “head”, or what had become of it, was near the bottom of the mass. She couldn’t really feel her legs or arms as separate entities. They were still blended in with the rest of her. But there were definitely two night little nubs of sensation that she assumed were her nipples. And then there was her vagina. It was the only part of her body that really felt “right.” She could feel every bit of it, and it all felt not just the right shape, but the right size. That was at the same time a relief and a concern. On one hand, it was nice to have something approaching normality for at least one part of her anatomy. On the other hand, the rest of her body still felt tiny, compact. If her sex was the right size, then what did that mean in terms of proportion?

A curious peeling sensation derailed her train of thought yet again. Light poured in and she plummeted to the counter, where her body slapped and bounced against it like a wad of rubber. Warm fingers clutched her, squeezing her body like a stress ball. Then a finger grazed teasingly across her slit. She wriggled and writhed, but without limbs it didn’t make much of a difference. All she achieved was a minor wobble in Stacy’s grip.

There was the telltale click of a phone’s camera app, then Aria was set pussy-down on the cool kitchen counter. Stacy held up the phone and what had become of Aria’s eyes focused on the image.

What she saw was certainly not recognizable as a human. She was flesh tone, with the slightest hint of her facial expression smoothed over one side of a flashlight-sized tube. Little pink nubs atop vague mounds featured prominently along one side, a greatly reduced version of her once substantial breasts. And the rest of her, comprising one whole end of the mass, was her vulva. It was full size, glistening with her recent stimulation.

Stacy had made her into a hand-sized, rubbery, portable pussy. She was an onahole. Before she could come to terms with that fact, Stacy plucked her from the table, slapped a sticker on her, and dropped her into a box.

“There we go. I’m sure some horny perv on eBay is going to make a nice home for you…” she said.