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I said I only write on impulse. I wrote on impulse.
Here's a short-ish TF/pooltoy thing that popped into and out of my head.
If you liked it, please feel free to comment below. Whether or not I write anything remotely like this ever again depends entirely on impulse - telling whether you thought it was good or bad won't change that at all. If another story pops into my head, I'll write it if I can, hopefully using any feedback I get from here. One thing I'm interested to know is whether or not the story put a clear picture in your head, or if it would be more clear if you had prior knowledge (as opposed to the reveal at the end) of what the TF was into. Please by all means let me know what you think.
Updated v1.1 as of 6/17/16 - Minor grammar corrections, some moderate revision to description and narrative here and there.
Hate travelling through exposition to get to the story? Feel free to jump past the first line break and hop right into it, I won't judge.
You pull yourself up the ladder at the deep end of the pool, dripping wet from your last minute, late night laps. It's closing time at the local public pool where you finally managed to land a job as a lowly pool attendant. It's not glorious work, and it doesn't pay very well, but it's the first job you've managed to hold down for more than a week without starting to go mad. All of your coworkers have left the building, as you've finally garnered enough trust to be given tonight's duty of closing up the pool. While management prohibits swimming alone after hours, your coworkers have repeatedly told you that as long you don't do anything stupid, there is a don't ask, don't tell policy on sneaking in some private swim-time so long as you get the job done. As you walk along the edge of the pool, you glance at yourself in the mirrored wall which covered the far and long end of the pool. You're sopping wet in your swim trunks, but starting to get quite cold. You'll have to mop up the room before leaving, but that can wait until after you've changed into something dry. You grab your towel on your way to the locker room and quickly dry yourself off on the go.
Entering the empty locker room, you make a beeline for your own locker so you can change out of your swim trunks and into something a little less chilly, dropping your damp towel as you go. Before you reach your row of lockers however, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you turn to inspect the culprit. Clearly out of place on the wooden bench is a bright red object. Closer investigation reveals it to be a small, red hand-pump, the kind staff uses to blow up the various beach balls and pool floats used during family hours. Obviously it's your job to put the offending object where it belongs, so naturally you move to pick it up, gathering up the hose length in your arms. Something at the tip of the hose catches your eye though, and you bring it in for a closer look. Your first impression is that some punk had vandalized the nozzle end as a dumb prank, but as you hold it up for a better view you realize that perched atop the red plastic nozzle was the clear rubber valve end of some pool toy. It had to be some kind of spare part or something, or perhaps someone had overinflated a beach ball to oblivion and tried to cover up their mistake, but the valve seemed to be stuck fast to the nozzle and simply refused to pull off. Whatever, the rest of staff will just have to deal with it in the morning. Before you can carry the pump back to the storage closet, you're caught by surprise as the hose in your arms suddenly goes rigid and whips out of your arms. The sudden and unexpected movement causes you to drop the pump, which clatters to the floor, it's hose writhing about violently as if it were some large, angry snake.
You instinctively turn to run in the opposite direction, but just as you wheel around you feel something jab you in the small of your back. You cry out in surprise, twisting your neck to get a look at your assailant, but all you can see is the black rubber hose dangling behind you. You give the hose length a tug in an attempt to free it from your back, but it feels as if it's been superglued into your spine. You pull harder but instead feel the skin on your back being tugged along with it. Suddenly, a dry wheezing sound interrupts your struggles, and your gaze automatically follows it back to the fallen hand-pump. Despite laying on the ground with no one else in sight, you watch in silent awe as the black plastic handle starts to operate itself, sliding gently out of the red base and thrusting itself sharply back with a loud hiss.
Immediately you feel the effect as the full load of air fires itself down the length of the hose and into your back, causing your belly to bulge out gently and your spine to go rigid. You crane your neck down for a better look as best you can, fighting an invisible force pushing it back, and watch as the skin of your chest starts to turn a vivid and glossy shade of green. You gape silently at the change until another loud hiss heralds a blast of air running up your back, forcing your head to jerk back up again. You reach to your belly and probe the surface of your skin which feels cool and dry – your fingertips producing a series of stinted squeaks as they tug at your flesh. Robbed of your ability to move your neck, back or waist, you continue stand straight as if locked in attention until another blast of air sends your arms falling to your sides and audibly slapping into place against your thighs. You strain your eyes downward as best you can to watch as your torso rounds out like a giant, green pill until it's nearly cylindrical in shape. The skin of your bloated chest and belly feels taut and stretched, and you can't seem to budge any of your limbs, but before you can make any greater efforts to move, you feel the nozzle end of the hose slide itself out of your back like a syringe needle being removed. Freed from your back, you feel the hard plastic tip give a gentle nudge, knocking you off balance and sending you swinging forward. You mentally brace for an impact with the floor as you sail towards it, but instead of a bone-shaking crash, you feel a gentle smack against your smooth, rounded belly as you land prone, wobbling slowly back and forth balanced on your chest.
Your new position gives you a fantastic view of the tiled locker room floor, shadowed by your own head, but before you can adjust you feel the nozzle trace its way down your back and along your right thigh until the familiar sensation of something piercing in to your skin returns. The rhythmic wheezing and hissing begins anew, this time instead forcing your head to crane upwards until the wall tilts into view. With each audible pump, you start to feel your arms and shoulders bulge and your hands swell, your palms now stuck to your thighs as if glued into place. As the skin along your forearms grows taut like your belly had before, you feel a sensation of air rushing into your thighs, which balloon outwards until your trunks rocket off in the opposite direction. Where your inner thighs touch, your skin suddenly starts to feel sticky, the sensation crawling up and down your legs until, with an audibly dry pop, it instantly vanishes, as does your ability to mentally isolate your left leg from your right.
As the pumping continues you feel the long, amorphous mass trailing from your waist forcibly curve to your left around where you imagine your shins had been. At this point, your arms are locked to your sides, swollen much like your torso, and your waist is equally rounded to the point where both begin to press against the cold floor tiles, steadying your unresponsive body against the ground. From where your shoulders and wrists once were, you begin to feel several spots where something seems to be trying to push its way out from inside you. The sound of the pump behind you is joined by what sounds like rubber being stretched out – the spots slowly erupting into four lumps which expand outward and curve forwards. The growths hang suspended uselessly at your sides, barely even touching the ground, but you can definitely feel every inch of them, from the joints at your sides to the bent crook at each “elbow” to the three stubby finger-lumps at the end of each.
At last, the swelling sensation finally works its way up into your neck, which quickly bulges outward and head, causing your cheeks to reflexively puff out like some impression of a chipmunk. You desperately want to open your mouth and release all this pent-up pressure, possibly even scream for help, but your lips stick together tightly and quickly dry out. You feel all the saliva in your mouth dry away, and your tongue swells inside your mouth until you feel it press against the insides of your face, catching your breath in your nonexistent throat. As the pressure works its way farther into your head through your tongue, now glued to your already swollen cheeks, you feel your lips begin to stretch forward, your chin grazing the floor as it works its way over the tiles, scraping dryly. The sides of your head begin to push outward with your cheeks. There comes a sudden rush of muffled wind to your ears, as if someone had cupped their hands over them followed by a hollow pop as they are consumed into your temples. You watch as your nose starts to push out until it sinks into your upper lip, your forehead being pulled down with it. As you watch your scalp sink below your eyes, devoid of the hair you remember having, you become aware of the fact that your eyes now seem to be above the rest of your head, but before you can adjust to the view of the bulbous, green protrusion coming from where your nose had been, your vision starts to split, a blind spot forming dead center. From their new positions, your eyes can see the world to your left and right, but you can barely make out anything in front, behind, above or below you. The new vantage point gives you a prime view of that accursed pump, which seems to be slowing down. You force your eyes shut to try and wake up from this bad dream, however the next pump causes your eyes to fly open, dry out, and swell up like the rest of your body, quietly creaking into their new fixed position. You can't blink, you can't move even the smallest part of your body, you can't breathe or talk, but you're vaguely aware of a big toothy grin spread across your face somewhere out of sight.
After what feels like an eternity of waiting, you hear the sounds of activity outside and muffled chatter. You can barely make out the voices of your coworkers complaining about how you hadn't finished closing up for the night. The sound of the wooden door swinging open brings the voices into nearly full clarity. You want desperately to call out to your friends, but that's beyond impossible now. You lie waiting as the voices make their way towards you.
“And he didn't even finish putting away the equipment in here. What are these, his trunks? What a slob. Rich, grab that float and bring it out to the pool before the guests start showing up. I'll finish cleaning the rest of the mess that newbie left behind.”
You see Rich briefly move into view and feel his arms wrap around your torso, lifting you off the ground as if you were nearly weightless. Your body creaks gently as it shifts in open space and presses against Rich's side as he tucks you sideways under his arm. You have a somewhat dizzying view of the floor and ceiling moving by as you're carried back out to the pool and tossed unceremoniously into the water with a soft smack as your belly hits the surface. Rather than sinking like a rock, you float effortlessly, barely even making a splash. Your body glides across the pool like it's covered in ice, the cool water feeling wonderful against your dry skin. As you drift towards the side of the pool, the mirrored far wall of the room comes into view. You can just barely see over the edge of the pool from your lower position and your reflection slowly comes into focus. What materializes in the wall quickly forms from a long green blob into a more coherent shape. The single eye visible now a bright orange circle on a green lump atop the left side of your head, another similar lump directly across from it on the other side of your rounded head. Your back is long and ovular, with a single long bulge running straight down the middle. At your sides are a pair of stubby claw-like appendages tipped with three round stubby claws each. From your waist downwards is a massive bulbous tail with a slight J-like tip, and across your cheeks to the front of your face is the toothy smile you can't seem to wipe of your face. All along your body are various scale-like markings from your tail to the tip of your snout. What stares back unblinkingly is the shape of giant rubber alligator, complete with cheap seams running up and down every inch of your body. A pair of clear nozzles adorn your back and tail to complete the ensemble.
You stare at yourself, unable to break eye contact with your reflection. The as the full effect of your change finally dawns on you, the smile seems to become a little less forced, perhaps even genuine. You find your appearance silly, but oddly cute. You let the current of the water carry you until you drift out of view of the mirror. You find yourself admitting that, despite being unable to do much of anything, you're somehow quite comfy in your forced position and come to relax as best you can. You're just barely getting used to your predicament when you hear the far off sounds of guests running to the pool. Perhaps this won't be such a boring summer after all.
Catch any spelling/grammar/punctuation errors (ie not personal opinion on the overall quality of the work, leave those in the comments) - feel free to Note me with the topic "Fic Error Check" and include the contents of any lines that are in need of correction. For those curious and need a picture to put into your head - the model used as a reference for this fic is the Intex "Giant Ride-On Gator".
Here's a short-ish TF/pooltoy thing that popped into and out of my head.
If you liked it, please feel free to comment below. Whether or not I write anything remotely like this ever again depends entirely on impulse - telling whether you thought it was good or bad won't change that at all. If another story pops into my head, I'll write it if I can, hopefully using any feedback I get from here. One thing I'm interested to know is whether or not the story put a clear picture in your head, or if it would be more clear if you had prior knowledge (as opposed to the reveal at the end) of what the TF was into. Please by all means let me know what you think.
Updated v1.1 as of 6/17/16 - Minor grammar corrections, some moderate revision to description and narrative here and there.
Hate travelling through exposition to get to the story? Feel free to jump past the first line break and hop right into it, I won't judge.
You pull yourself up the ladder at the deep end of the pool, dripping wet from your last minute, late night laps. It's closing time at the local public pool where you finally managed to land a job as a lowly pool attendant. It's not glorious work, and it doesn't pay very well, but it's the first job you've managed to hold down for more than a week without starting to go mad. All of your coworkers have left the building, as you've finally garnered enough trust to be given tonight's duty of closing up the pool. While management prohibits swimming alone after hours, your coworkers have repeatedly told you that as long you don't do anything stupid, there is a don't ask, don't tell policy on sneaking in some private swim-time so long as you get the job done. As you walk along the edge of the pool, you glance at yourself in the mirrored wall which covered the far and long end of the pool. You're sopping wet in your swim trunks, but starting to get quite cold. You'll have to mop up the room before leaving, but that can wait until after you've changed into something dry. You grab your towel on your way to the locker room and quickly dry yourself off on the go.
Entering the empty locker room, you make a beeline for your own locker so you can change out of your swim trunks and into something a little less chilly, dropping your damp towel as you go. Before you reach your row of lockers however, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you turn to inspect the culprit. Clearly out of place on the wooden bench is a bright red object. Closer investigation reveals it to be a small, red hand-pump, the kind staff uses to blow up the various beach balls and pool floats used during family hours. Obviously it's your job to put the offending object where it belongs, so naturally you move to pick it up, gathering up the hose length in your arms. Something at the tip of the hose catches your eye though, and you bring it in for a closer look. Your first impression is that some punk had vandalized the nozzle end as a dumb prank, but as you hold it up for a better view you realize that perched atop the red plastic nozzle was the clear rubber valve end of some pool toy. It had to be some kind of spare part or something, or perhaps someone had overinflated a beach ball to oblivion and tried to cover up their mistake, but the valve seemed to be stuck fast to the nozzle and simply refused to pull off. Whatever, the rest of staff will just have to deal with it in the morning. Before you can carry the pump back to the storage closet, you're caught by surprise as the hose in your arms suddenly goes rigid and whips out of your arms. The sudden and unexpected movement causes you to drop the pump, which clatters to the floor, it's hose writhing about violently as if it were some large, angry snake.
You instinctively turn to run in the opposite direction, but just as you wheel around you feel something jab you in the small of your back. You cry out in surprise, twisting your neck to get a look at your assailant, but all you can see is the black rubber hose dangling behind you. You give the hose length a tug in an attempt to free it from your back, but it feels as if it's been superglued into your spine. You pull harder but instead feel the skin on your back being tugged along with it. Suddenly, a dry wheezing sound interrupts your struggles, and your gaze automatically follows it back to the fallen hand-pump. Despite laying on the ground with no one else in sight, you watch in silent awe as the black plastic handle starts to operate itself, sliding gently out of the red base and thrusting itself sharply back with a loud hiss.
Immediately you feel the effect as the full load of air fires itself down the length of the hose and into your back, causing your belly to bulge out gently and your spine to go rigid. You crane your neck down for a better look as best you can, fighting an invisible force pushing it back, and watch as the skin of your chest starts to turn a vivid and glossy shade of green. You gape silently at the change until another loud hiss heralds a blast of air running up your back, forcing your head to jerk back up again. You reach to your belly and probe the surface of your skin which feels cool and dry – your fingertips producing a series of stinted squeaks as they tug at your flesh. Robbed of your ability to move your neck, back or waist, you continue stand straight as if locked in attention until another blast of air sends your arms falling to your sides and audibly slapping into place against your thighs. You strain your eyes downward as best you can to watch as your torso rounds out like a giant, green pill until it's nearly cylindrical in shape. The skin of your bloated chest and belly feels taut and stretched, and you can't seem to budge any of your limbs, but before you can make any greater efforts to move, you feel the nozzle end of the hose slide itself out of your back like a syringe needle being removed. Freed from your back, you feel the hard plastic tip give a gentle nudge, knocking you off balance and sending you swinging forward. You mentally brace for an impact with the floor as you sail towards it, but instead of a bone-shaking crash, you feel a gentle smack against your smooth, rounded belly as you land prone, wobbling slowly back and forth balanced on your chest.
Your new position gives you a fantastic view of the tiled locker room floor, shadowed by your own head, but before you can adjust you feel the nozzle trace its way down your back and along your right thigh until the familiar sensation of something piercing in to your skin returns. The rhythmic wheezing and hissing begins anew, this time instead forcing your head to crane upwards until the wall tilts into view. With each audible pump, you start to feel your arms and shoulders bulge and your hands swell, your palms now stuck to your thighs as if glued into place. As the skin along your forearms grows taut like your belly had before, you feel a sensation of air rushing into your thighs, which balloon outwards until your trunks rocket off in the opposite direction. Where your inner thighs touch, your skin suddenly starts to feel sticky, the sensation crawling up and down your legs until, with an audibly dry pop, it instantly vanishes, as does your ability to mentally isolate your left leg from your right.
As the pumping continues you feel the long, amorphous mass trailing from your waist forcibly curve to your left around where you imagine your shins had been. At this point, your arms are locked to your sides, swollen much like your torso, and your waist is equally rounded to the point where both begin to press against the cold floor tiles, steadying your unresponsive body against the ground. From where your shoulders and wrists once were, you begin to feel several spots where something seems to be trying to push its way out from inside you. The sound of the pump behind you is joined by what sounds like rubber being stretched out – the spots slowly erupting into four lumps which expand outward and curve forwards. The growths hang suspended uselessly at your sides, barely even touching the ground, but you can definitely feel every inch of them, from the joints at your sides to the bent crook at each “elbow” to the three stubby finger-lumps at the end of each.
At last, the swelling sensation finally works its way up into your neck, which quickly bulges outward and head, causing your cheeks to reflexively puff out like some impression of a chipmunk. You desperately want to open your mouth and release all this pent-up pressure, possibly even scream for help, but your lips stick together tightly and quickly dry out. You feel all the saliva in your mouth dry away, and your tongue swells inside your mouth until you feel it press against the insides of your face, catching your breath in your nonexistent throat. As the pressure works its way farther into your head through your tongue, now glued to your already swollen cheeks, you feel your lips begin to stretch forward, your chin grazing the floor as it works its way over the tiles, scraping dryly. The sides of your head begin to push outward with your cheeks. There comes a sudden rush of muffled wind to your ears, as if someone had cupped their hands over them followed by a hollow pop as they are consumed into your temples. You watch as your nose starts to push out until it sinks into your upper lip, your forehead being pulled down with it. As you watch your scalp sink below your eyes, devoid of the hair you remember having, you become aware of the fact that your eyes now seem to be above the rest of your head, but before you can adjust to the view of the bulbous, green protrusion coming from where your nose had been, your vision starts to split, a blind spot forming dead center. From their new positions, your eyes can see the world to your left and right, but you can barely make out anything in front, behind, above or below you. The new vantage point gives you a prime view of that accursed pump, which seems to be slowing down. You force your eyes shut to try and wake up from this bad dream, however the next pump causes your eyes to fly open, dry out, and swell up like the rest of your body, quietly creaking into their new fixed position. You can't blink, you can't move even the smallest part of your body, you can't breathe or talk, but you're vaguely aware of a big toothy grin spread across your face somewhere out of sight.
After what feels like an eternity of waiting, you hear the sounds of activity outside and muffled chatter. You can barely make out the voices of your coworkers complaining about how you hadn't finished closing up for the night. The sound of the wooden door swinging open brings the voices into nearly full clarity. You want desperately to call out to your friends, but that's beyond impossible now. You lie waiting as the voices make their way towards you.
“And he didn't even finish putting away the equipment in here. What are these, his trunks? What a slob. Rich, grab that float and bring it out to the pool before the guests start showing up. I'll finish cleaning the rest of the mess that newbie left behind.”
You see Rich briefly move into view and feel his arms wrap around your torso, lifting you off the ground as if you were nearly weightless. Your body creaks gently as it shifts in open space and presses against Rich's side as he tucks you sideways under his arm. You have a somewhat dizzying view of the floor and ceiling moving by as you're carried back out to the pool and tossed unceremoniously into the water with a soft smack as your belly hits the surface. Rather than sinking like a rock, you float effortlessly, barely even making a splash. Your body glides across the pool like it's covered in ice, the cool water feeling wonderful against your dry skin. As you drift towards the side of the pool, the mirrored far wall of the room comes into view. You can just barely see over the edge of the pool from your lower position and your reflection slowly comes into focus. What materializes in the wall quickly forms from a long green blob into a more coherent shape. The single eye visible now a bright orange circle on a green lump atop the left side of your head, another similar lump directly across from it on the other side of your rounded head. Your back is long and ovular, with a single long bulge running straight down the middle. At your sides are a pair of stubby claw-like appendages tipped with three round stubby claws each. From your waist downwards is a massive bulbous tail with a slight J-like tip, and across your cheeks to the front of your face is the toothy smile you can't seem to wipe of your face. All along your body are various scale-like markings from your tail to the tip of your snout. What stares back unblinkingly is the shape of giant rubber alligator, complete with cheap seams running up and down every inch of your body. A pair of clear nozzles adorn your back and tail to complete the ensemble.
You stare at yourself, unable to break eye contact with your reflection. The as the full effect of your change finally dawns on you, the smile seems to become a little less forced, perhaps even genuine. You find your appearance silly, but oddly cute. You let the current of the water carry you until you drift out of view of the mirror. You find yourself admitting that, despite being unable to do much of anything, you're somehow quite comfy in your forced position and come to relax as best you can. You're just barely getting used to your predicament when you hear the far off sounds of guests running to the pool. Perhaps this won't be such a boring summer after all.
Catch any spelling/grammar/punctuation errors (ie not personal opinion on the overall quality of the work, leave those in the comments) - feel free to Note me with the topic "Fic Error Check" and include the contents of any lines that are in need of correction. For those curious and need a picture to put into your head - the model used as a reference for this fic is the Intex "Giant Ride-On Gator".
Category Story / Transformation
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 12.5 kB
Comments