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I've had a few people asking if they could illustrate some ideas based on my stories, I have no problem with that, as long as I can see the finished work. :)
Groaning with pain from your massive hangover, your eyes open wide as you look down and see a big maze of fur blocking your vision. You try to sit up, but there is a heavy weight jiggling on your chest, and your head feels like it weighs ten times more than it should. You reach up to push the fluffy weight off your chest, and and see two giant pink fur cuffs wrapped around your wrists, and long pink nails have been attached to your fingers. Sitting up quickly, the weight on your chest grasps your skin and bounces around underneath the fur collar, and you see you've been dressed in a pretty pink dress with ridiculously huge fur trims! A big fluffy petticoat peeks out from under the hem of the skirt, which surrounds your thighs with a big tube of pink fur. Your feet are inside a pair of boots, which have a massive ball of fur exploding around the top of them, surrounding your lower thighs and most of your feet. A pair of lace tights are wrapped tightly around your legs.

"What... what the..." you mumble, trying to stand up, your heavy head flopping back and forth. The dress swishes loudly around as you move, and your peripheral vision is intruded by walls of soft pink hair. You grab it and pull, and feel a painful yank on your scalp. You quickly reach up, and discover why your head feels so heavy - there is a massive fur hat on your head, with an explosion of soft pink hair coming out from under it, and two strings hang from the sides, each with a huge pink fur pom pom dangling and bouncing on the end of it. Panic grips you as your hands shoot around the hat, feeling the incredible softness of it, the cuffs on your wrists mashing against it as you explore your terrible situation. The hat is puffball shaped, and absolutely gigantic, your arms can barely reach the top of it!

The pain of your hangover begins to fade as panic fills your body. What happened last night?! You think hard, but you can’t remember a thing.

You glare at the fluffy prison you’re in, and decide the first thing to go is the hat, considering how heavy and hot it is over top of the big curly pink wig you’re wearing. You dig your long glittering nails into the massive thing and pull, but feel a hard grasp inside of it, running all around your scalp. You pull again, and it refuses to budge, the lining is pulling back just as hard on your head. You mash your hands into the thick fluffy volume of it and push and pull the thing around, but it’s secured on your head and won’t budge.

“The hell...” you grunt with your efforts. Pulling on the long curly hair provides the same result, you yank and pull, but all you get is a sharp pain on your head. Somehow, the hat and wig have been stuck to your head with something way stronger than you are.

Mashing your hands into the fur collar, you rip and pull, only to feel the same clinging sensation all around your neck and chest. Ripping and pulling at the poofy skirt is the same, everything is attached to your body with some sort of adhesive that refuses to give at all.

“Dammit!” you curse, trying to pull the big fur boots from your feet. A wave of embarrassment flows through you every time your hands touch the soft luscious fur, which is quite often. You reach around the back of the dress to find a zipper, but the entire thing has been sewn shut, with no openings at all.

Looking around, you realize that you aren’t back at your apartment... it seems like you’re in a hotel room. You scan the room for any sign of your old clothes, but you see nothing. Even your wallet and keys aren’t in sight. The entire room is empty, except for you and your new fluffy pink fashion. The thought of calling your friends for help has been dashed away, since the phone has been removed from the room.

You nervously lick your lips, and taste the strong flavor of candy. You wipe your lips with your hands, but don’t see anything. You stand up, teetering on the high heeled boots that your feet are trapped in, and start heading toward the bathroom. You gulp at the sight of your shadow, which is casting comically feminine proportions onto the wall. You turn your eyes away from it, and are again greeted with the massive pink fur trim encasing your neck and resting on your chest, which makes it impossible to see your feet.

Entering the bathroom, you turn to face the mirror and let out a scream at what you see. If you thought you looked ridiculous from your own vantage point, you now have a taste of what other people would see. Pink fur is bulging out all around your outfit, from the big fur collar to the cuffs on your wrists, and your skirt fluffs around atop its crinolines with the weight of the thick fur trim holding it in place. You now see why your lips were tasting like candy - you have an incredible amount of makeup on, making you look like an overdone drag queen - pink sparkles and glitter compliment your dramatic eyeshadow and huge fake lashes. Bright pink blush stands out against your much lighter foundation, and your pink lips look like they're a piece of candy floating in a white cloud.

The giant puffball pink fur hat makes your face look comically small, the sheer volume of the thing sticks out over two feet in every direction, and the fountain of hair pouring out from it frames your face perfectly, putting it out on display. You immediately grab a towel, wet it, and start madly wiping at the makeup in an attempt to tone down your appearance. Staring at the towel, you see no trace of makeup coming off, and your reflection shows how immaculate your makeover remains, despite your frantic scrubbing, soaping, and cursing. Whatever brand of makeup the pranksters used, it doesn't look like it's going anywhere soon.

You look through the cabinets in the bathroom hoping to find a complimentary bottle of makeup remover. You try your hardest to avoid looking in the big mirror, but you still see your giant fur hat bobbing and swaying as you continue your search, and the big pink pom poms hanging from either side of your face constantly swing and bump against you, a neverending reminder of how ridiculous you look right now. You go through the entire bathroom, but there's nothing even close to make up remover in the room.

You leave the bathroom, the clicking of your heels ends as you walk across the hotel room’s carpet. You look around the room again, the big pom poms hanging from your hat dance and smack your face as you turn your head, and you spot something on the bed. You mince toward it, and see its a cell phone - you didn’t see it when you woke up since you were sleeping on it. Picking it up is a challenge, since you now have long glittering pink nails, but you manage to hold it in your fur trimmed hands, and turn it on to see if you have any reception.

Full bars, with a nearly dead battery. The phone has an image gallery open on it which immediately commands your attention. Your eyes widen as you start glancing through the pictures, and all the fur you’ve been encased in doesn’t stop a chill from running down your spine. The first picture is of you at the bar with your friends. The picture was taken covertly from across the bar, neither you nor your friends are aware of the fact you were being spied on. The next picture is of a beer bottle, and a hand is hovering over it with a large white pill. Another hand is in the shot giving the thumbs up. Your hands start shaking, and you swipe the phone to reveal a video - a 10 second clip of the bottle being placed beside you, and the bottle you’ve set down being taken away. The person filming this quickly steps back and manages to capture you blindly grabbing for your bottle and taking a long swig.

Your thin eyebrows furrow over top of your bright pink eyeshadow. How did no one else notice this? You swipe the phone to reveal a photo of you barely conscious, holding on to the bar for support. The next photo shows you in a cab. You swipe again, and see a photo of you from behind with three women dressed in black dragging you toward the hotel. Swipe - you’re laying on the bed naked, passed out. A large duffel bag is set beside you, and a big mound of bright pink fur can be seen pouring out of it.

The next picture shows you completely shaved bald, and several hands in the frame are doing your makeup. The makeup is in strange flat silver containers, and is being applied very liberally with tiny flat spatulas. It’s hard to tell, but it almost looks like there’s steam coming off the brushes.

Swipe - A large tube with X-19A ADHESIVE written on the side of it is emptying a generous dollop of goo on your chest, the next picture shows two massive breastforms being squished on top of the goo against your chest. Again, you zoom in a bit, and swear you see steam or smoke wisping out from where the adhesive has bonded with the breastforms. You have a really bad feeling about this.

Another picture features a girl wearing the ridiculous poodle outfit you’ve been sealed inside of. She’s posing with a hand stretched out and another behind her head, which is lost in the huge fluffiness of the pink fur hat. The hat is squished around her face, so you can’t make out who it is, but she looks vaguely familiar - or at least the outfit does. What you do know, is how unbelievably embarrassing she looks wearing the outfit, which makes your skin crawl at the thought of what people are going to say at the sight of you trapped inside of it.

The next picture features you, with thick pink hair extensions stuck around the sides of your head, with the top of your head shaved completely bald. You flick your finger across the screen, and see an image of several tubes of glue squirting their contents on your legs, chest, and shoulders, with someone smoothing the mess out with a thin spatula. Someone off frame is holding one of the big fur boots at the bottom of your foot, and the girl in the background has removed the fluffy dress and is approaching you with it.

The next shot has you from the waist up, with the dress at your waist and open in the back. Someone else has a tube of adhesive, and is emptying it on your back. The next shot is the back of the dress closed, with a pair of hands stitching it shut, the strange steam/smoke is wisping out of the fabric all around your body.. Even if you managed to rip the dress, it’s been glued to your skin, so there is no chance you’d be able to pull it off.

The final picture, the massive fluffy hat is poised above your pink haired head. The entire lining is saturated with thick goo, which is dripping onto your shaved head. The last is you laying on the bed in your fluffy pink outfit, a fine mist of the steam/smoke leaking out from the glued outfit.

Knowing that the outfit is glued to you with several tubes of industrial strength adhesive sends you into a panic, and you begin ripping and pulling at the big monster atop your head. Your head jerks back and forth with your strong pulls, and you feel the strong resistance of the glue sitting between your scalp, the wig, and the hat. Your hands grab at the thick towers of fur surrounding your feet, but everything is sealed on you tight. The heavy weight of your breastforms bounces back and forth with your futile struggle.

Suddenly, the phone vibrates with a new message:

"Good morning, sunshine!

No doubt you've discovered the pretty ensemble that I've put together for you, one that you saw fit to ridicule me for wearing back in high school. I never forgot the horrible things you said to me, and over time I realized that maybe you were a little jealous of how pretty I looked, and always wanted to be a pretty pink poodle girl yourself. Good news, that day has come, cutie!”

Suddenly, the dress seems very familiar, and the memory of it comes floating through your pounding hangover. A girl you went to high school with wore it one Halloween, it's her dreaded Sexy Poodle costume. She was really into fashion and sewing, and she bragged about how she made it herself with real fur, using old fur coats from the second hand shop that she then cut apart, dyed pink, and re-purposed into a costume. You remember how stupid she looked in it and making fun of her, hurting her feelings, and laughing about it with your friends.

You continue reading the message.

“You're probably a little guilty that you look so much more gorgeous than I did in my outfit, and have already tried to rip it off for some silly reason. I don't want you missing out on how fun it is showing the world how pretty you are, so I attached everything to you with a very special adhesive, one that I've been developing at the university lab for the past several years. The adhesive needs to be dissolved with a special remover, one that I have set aside in a special location for you, a place where you'll be able to show off how pretty you've become!

Here's where the fun begins! As the day goes on, the thick layer of adhesive I’ve applied is going to cure and harden between the outfit and your skin, and it will send tiny little microscopic tendrils into the outfit, filling every nook and cranny of your costume, hair, and makeup with a network of fibers, all amazingly flexible while being stronger than titanium. This makes sure you’ll never be able to ever cut the costume off, I’d hate for you to ruin all my hard work!

The best part about this? The microscopic fibers of the adhesive will also seep down through your skin and into your muscles, and eventually your bones. Don't worry, although there are millions of these tiny strands, they're so thin that your body won't even know they're there. Even as your skin grows and sheds, these tiny strands will stay put in your body, and once the adhesive finally sets... it's there for good! Not even the remover will be able to break it down, you'll get to live the rest of your life looking like a pretty fluffy pink poodle girl! Imagine how jealous everyone will be!

I'm sure that you're excited at that idea, but just in case you'd like to be able to walk around in public ever again without making a scene everywhere you go, I've left the remover in a special location. You'll have to follow my little treasure hunt if you're ever going to find it, the first clue is taped to the door at the end of the hall outside your room.

And if you DON'T want to take that outfit off and change back into your boring old boy clothes, just wait another four hours, and the glue will set permanently, and you'll be the fluffy pink poodle girl that you've always wanted to be... FOREVER!

Hugs and kisses,

K"

The battery finally dies and you drop the phone, you feeling sick and lightheaded, the reality of your situation sinking in. The idea of being trapped in this costume for the rest of your life has made you faint, and you grab the edge of the counter to keep yourself from falling to the floor in shock. The huge pom poms hanging from the hat swing around and bounce against the sides of your face as you stop yourself from falling, and the big breasts bounce merrily under the massive fur collar. You look down over the big collar atop the fake breasts, seeing the crinolines swishing under your skirt, and the bulging cuffs of pink fur wrapped around your heeled boots. No matter where you look, some part of the ridiculous costume makes its way into your vision, and the massive hat weighs heavily on your head, bulging out in all directions with soft sparkly fur.

You know that you need to get out of this outfit, NOW. Again, you rip and pull at all parts of it, but the fact that it refuses to budge at all lends credibility to the message, and you remember the strange smoke coming off of you in the photos was very unsettling. You swallow hard, realizing that this girl has spent many years devising this revenge, and you pray you can find a way out of this before the outfit becomes your permanent home.  

Then again, the idea of an adhesive making an outfit indestructible and permanently bonded to your body seems too far fetched, and you decide against playing her weird little game, and you brave the hallways and head to reception to call a friend. You teeter on your heels and swish your way down the hall, into the elevator, and out into the main lobby. Time seems to freeze as everyone gets a good look at you, and laughter slowly erupts amongst the crowd. You mince your way to the front desk and ask the giggling receptionist if you can use the phone. She bursts out laughing, places the phone on the desk, and runs to the back room to hide her hysterics.

After an hour of sitting in the lobby, hiding your face with the thick wig spilling out from under your fluffy hat, your friend arrives. He follows suit with everyone else who has seen you, and begins snickering and laughing as well. You glare at him, and fill him in with the details of the note and what had been done to you as you both walk precariously to the car. The heels have begun to become a painful hindrance to your movement, and you stumble and fall onto your friend more than once. He laughs, rubs the fluffy fur ball that’s encasing the top of your head, and comments on the amazing job the pranksters have done on you, and how its the best prank he’s ever seen. You get into his car, the huge puffball of a hat making it difficult to sit upright in the seat, as its massive volume is compacting as much as it can against the top of your head and the roof of the car. Again you hide your face with the thick walls of hair as he drives you home.

Once your friend has helped you break into your house due to your lack of a backup key, he wishes you luck and drives off. You breathe a sigh of relief, finally free of the public humiliation you’ve received at the hotel, as well as during the drive home, where people were shouting all manners of names at the pink fluffy drag queen they saw in the car beside them. Your feet are in an incredible amount of pain from being crammed in the heeled boots for so long, and the entire costume has become uncomfortably hot from the small amount of walking you’ve had to do. The entire experience has left you drained, so you stumble over to the sofa and collapse on the cushions, your fluffy hat and collar making an excellent pillow as you doze off to sleep.

Several hours later, sunlight begins streaming in through your windows and you awake with a start. Blinking your eyes, you remember fragments from the horrible dream you were having last night, something about being trapped in some sort of ridiculous...

Considering how bright, big, and glittery your costume is, it only takes a few seconds for the reality of the situation to come crashing back to you. You struggle off the couch and swish your way into the kitchen to find a way out of your pink fluffy prison. Opening a drawer and grabbing the sharpest knife you can find, you start sawing madly at the hot furry ball atop your head. The knife zips across the fur, stabs into it harmlessly, and zips right off again. You freeze, and try again, stabbing hard into the soft mound of fur. Again, the knife squishes into the hat, but refuses to puncture the lining or even make a scratch in it. You turn your attention to the collar around your neck, but the same thing happens, the knife won’t slice any of it off, not even a single hair of the fur comes loose. Your heart beats faster as you stab at the dress with the knife, and watch it harmlessly glance off.

Stepping as quickly as you can into your garage, you grab the closest tool you can find - which is a circular saw. You turn it on and blindly drive it down into the skirts surrounding your legs. A scream comes from your lips as sparks fly off from the dress, you shut off the saw and see not a single scratch on the fabric. You turn the saw back on and press it against your breasts, and they jiggle and shake as the saw grinds against them, and suddenly the blade overheats and breaks, sending fragments of metal flying into your face and costume. The shards bounce harmlessly off of your costume, and frighteningly enough, off of your pretty made over face.

Your breathing becomes very shallow, to the point of hyperventilation, and you race back to the kitchen, ripping and pulling at the heavy fur monster atop your head. Before you descend into a futile attempt at yanking the outfit from your body, you see a card sitting on the kitchen table. You race over to it and see in glittering letters on the front, above a picture of yourself unconscious in your ridiculous costume:

“Congrats on becoming a fluffy poodle girl!”

Your hands tremble as you open the card and read the flowing handwriting within.

“So you’ve decided that you love my outfit so much, that you’d like to keep it forever! Who can blame you? You look SO pretty, and will for the rest of your life! I bet you can’t WAIT to strut your way around the city, showing off how pretty you’ve become! Most guys would think this was a horrific nightmare, but I am SO jealous of your courage to be as pretty as you’ve always wanted to be! I’m glad I could help you make your pink fluffy dreams come true!

I’m heading out of the country permanently, so I’m afraid I’ll never get to see how adorable you look in person. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find tons of photos online taken of you in public from jealous onlookers. Aren’t you excited at how much attention you’re going to get? I know I am! I wish I could look in the mirror every morning for the rest of my life and see something as cute and fluffy as you staring back at me!

Just remember, this isn’t a dream! It’s a dream come true!

Love,

K”

The card drops to the floor from your hands. You stare at the wall for a very long time, and eventually make your way to the bathroom, and stare into the mirror. The hat, hair, and collar frame your gaudy face with glittering pink fur. The massive breasts quiver with your shallow breaths, and the big pom poms rest against them. The heeled boots, thick with fur, are still cramping your feet, and the big rustling skirt never seems to stop moving and swishing against your legs.

You spend the rest of the night screaming and pulling at the outfit. Every power tool in your garage winds up breaking against it. You race from room to room, the sensations of the fluffy costume building as you do so, the heavy hat wobbling your head back and forth, the fluffy trim constantly brushing your skin, the pom poms bouncing madly with your movements. This goes on for several days, until you finally collapse from exhaustion.

Laying on the floor, you read the card beside you over and over again, until you fade into sleep, and the words echo through your mind.

Just remember, this isn’t a dream! It’s a dream come true!
Just remember, this isn’t a dream...
this isn’t a dream...
this isn’t a dream...
this isn’t a dream...
Pranked in Pink
After a night of partying you wake up in a strange hotel room with a nasty hangover, wearing the most ridiculous outfit you've ever seen.

This story is posted on writing.com under the interactive story "A Costume Prank". I chose my favorite chapters and arranged them into a story, so it's a first person treat! If you'd like to read the other branches or even contribute, you can find it here: www.writing.com/main/interact/…
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One bright sunny day, you find a curious glowing pencil laying on the side of the road. You are immediately compelled to walk over and pick it up, and as you do, you notice a thin line being drawn from its lead into the air. Gasping in surprise, you give another flick, drawing a circle in mid air, which falls to the ground. You look around to see if anyone is watching - no one seems to be around. You decide to try something a little more complicated, and draw your name in big outlines. Once you’re finished, you grab and pull at them, and they resist your strength as if they were made out of cast iron. You laugh in amazement, and try the eraser on the letters, and see them scrub out of existence as quickly as they were make. You suddenly get a very exciting idea, once that will test the limits of your artistic abilities.

You’ve always been a doodler, and have spent many hours drawing cartoon girls with big flowing hairstyles, huge breasts, tiny waists, and a generous display of hips and booty. Now that you have this amazing pencil, you can finally bring your dream girl to life!

You quickly begin sketching an outline into the air, and are surprised at how fast you’re able to work with the pencil. Of course, you sketch out the huge breasts first, sitting above a narrow waist which expands into a huge thick section of ass and hips. The sketch stays in the air as you quickly sketch out a pair of big bright eyes, and frame them with huge long lashes. The pencil flicks a big thick hairstyle atop the sketch’s head, which tapers all the way down to the character’s hips. Time flies by as you add clothing - a tight striped corset, nylons, a flared vinyl skirt with a ruffled petticoat underneath, a set of fishnet stockings, and a pair of 4” vinyl stiletto boots.

Finishing the detailing on the corset, you stand back at your bimbo creation, and frown - the girl is transparent, constructed entirely of thin pencil strokes. You poke the pencil through her and wiggle it around, wondering how you’re supposed to fill her in and bring her to life. You flick the pencil around her head, frustrated, wondering how amazing her big blonde hairstyle would look if it was filled in.

Just like that, the pencil leaves a huge yellow splash on the outside of the sketch. That’s it! By concentrating on the color of the clothing, you can make the pencil change color and start filling the character in. The perfectionist that you are, you spend hours filling in details, meticulously coloring in the elaborate gothic outfit, and doing the girl’s makeup in an extravagant fashion. Thin eyebrows atop smoky eyes, which are a wonderland of blue and purple sparkles, along with thick, glossy blood-red lips.

Looking over the character, you feel your heart burst with pride. Many sketches of busty cartoon girls are taped all around your drawing board at home, but now you are face to face with one in real life. It’s hard getting used to the fact that she still looks like a cartoon, which gives you flashbacks to the animation in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and are excited to actually own a real cartoon. You smile, and consider your hard work finished.

Once the concept of ‘finished’ goes through your mind, the girl gasps loudly, stumbles, and flails to regain her balance. She looks around in a panic, breathing heavily at the shock of suddenly being summoned into existence. She looks down at her massive bust and grabs it in surprise, and brushes a thick section of hair out of her face, and makes eye contact with you.

“...Hel....Hello...” you stammer, blown away by the beauty of your artwork. She stares at you, wide eyed with fear.

“Who... who are you? What... where...” she stutters, looking you up and down. “What’s going on?!”

“I, uh...” you blush, holding up the pencil. “I’m your artist - I gave you... er... brought you to life.”

She looks at the pencil, back at you, then back to the pencil. A look of realization and understanding flashes in her eyes, which quickly furrow and glare at you.

“Yes,” she says in a low voice. “Yes, I... I understand now. You made me. I don’t know how, but I just... I just know it.”

You smile, looking her amazingly shapely figure up and down. Your confidence begins to build now that she seems to have accepted her position as your creation. She takes a few steps toward you, and your heart flutters with excitement.

“So, you drew me, correct?” she smiles, looking at the pencil. You nod. “Of all the ways you could have brought me into existence, you decided to go with *this*.”

She grabs her huge tits and pulls at them. She lets go, and they bounce and jiggle within the corset top. The excitement is getting to be a bit much as she walks up and stands a couple of feet away.

“Of all the ways!” she suddenly yells, grabbing the pencil from you. “You bring me into existence like THIS! You made me a cheap whore, for what?! Do you think I’m going to be your sex slave or something?”

This isn’t exactly the reaction you were looking for. You step back, but she advances and stays in your face.

“Wait!” you blurt out, raising your hands defensively. “Wait, I can help you! I can redraw you! Just give me the...”

“Oh, no you don’t!” she growls, taking a step back. “Now that you know I’m not going to be your sex doll, you have no need for me anymore! I bet you’d erase me without a second thought!”

“No! No, no, no! I’d never do that!” Of course, that’s exactly what you were planning on doing. The last thing you want is some psycho cartoon character living with you. How would you explain that to anyone?

The girl puts a hand on her wide hips, twirling the pencil in her hand. Then, with the lightning speed of a hungry panther, she jumps forward and swipes your right arm with the eraser. It falls to the ground with a thump, exploding into a million fragments of colored eraser residue, leaving a smooth bump where it once connected to your shoulder. You freeze in horror at the sight, and without hesitation, she strikes your left arm as well. Before it even hits the ground, she has removed both of your legs with a single stroke. Your limbless body falls to the ground, scattering the eraser shavings everywhere.

You yell out, horrified at the attack. Even though the quadruple amputation didn’t hurt at all, the fact that you no longer have arms or legs sends a bolt of pure terror through you. The girls stands over you, smirking at your predicament.

“If anyone is going to fix my body, it’s going to be ME.” she pulls her hair out of the way and quickly starts sketching something up her back. She brings the pencil to her head and draws a thin line around her face, all around her forehead, cheeks, and chin. She places the pencil on the ground and turns away from you, revealing a large zipper running down her back. Her hand clasps the tab and pulls down, and your eyes go wide as you see her skin and clothing are both unzipping like a costume. Once the zipper is completely open, she reaches up and pulls the skin of her head away from her face, and starts squirming out of the jiggling sex slave body as if it was a Halloween costume. Her head pops out the zippered opening, revealing a much more conservative hairstyle atop her still heavily made over face.

“Ah, that’s a bit better!” she smiled. “That ridiculous hair you drew was making me sweat!” She sketches a small mirror into existence and inspects the makeup you’ve drawn on her. She shakes her head, and wipes it away quickly with the eraser.

The toon girl then grabs her hand with the other and pulls it away like a glove. She squirms and pops an arm out of the opening, and continues with pulling her other arm free. With a quick pull, she frees herself from the thick jiggling skin and skimpy outfit, the flesh bounces and jiggles around her feet like Jello.

Remarkably, the girl has shed her skin, revealing a new cute naked body underneath. Her breasts seem microscopic compared to what you had given her before, and her body seems like a stick figure compared to the hips and ass the other had. In reality, she is on the pretty side of average, and she takes a moment to admire her transformation.

“That’s the great thing about being a toon,” she says, bending over and grabbing the pencil. “Our silly cartoon logic makes things like this so much easier. You tremble, wiggling your stumps around feebly.

“So...” you stammer as she looks you up and down. “You’ve fixed yourself, that’s great! You can... you can keep the pencil! Just, please... please don’t leave me like this!”

“Oh, you mean helpless and vulnerable? Like what you expected me to be in that stupid body you conjured up?” She looks rather vexed, and you have a bad feeling about where things are headed.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll help you out.” She smiled. “Toons aren’t as heartless as their masters are.”

The relieved smile you give her soon fades to a frown as she grabs the big pile of cartoon skin at her feet. She pulls the unzipped opening wide open, and starts pulling it up over your torso.

“Wait!” you scream. “WAIT! No! Don’t do this! Please don’t do this!”

Your cries fall on deaf ears as she continues pulling the skin over your body. She brushes the thick locks of blonde out of the way as she pulls the skin over your head, and pulls it tight enough so your head quickly squeezes up the inside of the neck, and pops inside of the head. Your face pokes out of the opening, and your entire body feels very constricted inside of the toon suit.

“Wow, I was wrong about this body. It is HOT!” she laughs as she starts zipping the suit up. You gasp and wheeze, the already tight skin becoming even tighter as the zipper closes. With a strong tug, she manages to close the suit, the enormous animated breasts jiggle bounce with every panicked breath you take.

“We shouldn’t let a work of art like that go to waste.” She smiles, grabbing your ass. She pulls on it, which causes the skin and fat to stretch out, the sound rubber stretching fills the air. The cartoon flesh feels as if it were a suction cup, you feel the grasp of it against your own skin as she pulls on it. She lets go, and the skin snaps back into place, the impact sending the toon skin jiggling and quivering like crazy. You feel like you’re inside of a waterbed, and you have no control over the empty cartoon arms and legs hanging from you.

“OK...” you gasp, watching your breasts slowly come to a rest. “OK, I’m sorry! I’m sorry I drew this for you! I’ve learned my lesson! Please unzip me!”

“Unzip you? Alright, if you insist!”

She quickly pulls you on your side, and begins erasing the zipper from your back. It takes you a moment to realize what she’s doing, and when you do, you squirm and shake your head as best as you can, but the best you can do is whip your long hair around, and she has no problem getting rid of the opening. Putting you on your back again, she grabs your head firmly and quickly starts shading around the perimeter of your face, the strokes of the pencil adding a layer of color that binds the skin of the suit to your face, which removes the chance of escaping through the suit’s face hole. Unless she decides to give you another zipper, you’re trapped like this.

“Now, a few things before I leave you. First...” she quickly draws a reasonable outfit on her self - a sundress and flip flops. “There! Next...”

She bends down and quickly flicks the pencil around your face, her hand becoming a toon blur as she does so. You feel your skin being pulled this way and that, and her smile grows bigger as she works. She stops, quickly sketches a mirror into existence, and shoves it in front of you. You scream at the sight of your new makeover, huge lashes are attached to your bright blue eyelids, your eyebrows are high penciled in arches, your lips are plump and a dark glossy red, and a multitude of colors make up your smoky eyeshadow. What’s strange about her makeup job - she didn't use toon colors, she used realistic shading to make it look like you’re wearing real makeup.

“I didn’t want to COMPLETELY bury you in that toon body.” She says, twirling the pencil in her fingers. “I think people should know the artist behind such an amazingly sexy creation!”

People will definitely know who you are, as the makeup is flawless, yet is placed over your own face. You look like a bizarre cartoon-human drag queen hybrid. Anyone who knows you will recognize your brightly made up face.

“Now where was I? Oh, yes!” She draws up a large syringe full of fluid, and writes “INSTA-ARMS” on the side of it. “I can’t leave you stranded like this, how else would you be able to show off your new look?” She plunges the needle into each of your arms and legs, injecting a bit of the solution each time. “I drew this special for you, you should be able to use those pretty arms and legs in a good ten minutes or so!”

You’re growing faint at the terror running through your body. How long was she going to draw this weird punishment out! You need to get that pencil back...

“And now, the grand finale!” She smiles, snapping the eraser off the pencil. She sketches a realistic, generic looking rock all around it, burying it deep inside. “I’m VERY confident in my artistic abilities, so I won’t be needing this.”

She winds up like a major league pitcher and launches the rock - which flies like a bullet through the sky and over the horizon. You have finally had enough, and start screaming and yelling at the top of your lungs.

“YOU BITCH! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU!”

She smirks. “I knew you didn't learn anything. Have fun with your makeover, doll! Be sure to say hi to all the boys for me! I’m sure you won’t have a problem drawing a crowd!”

It takes her a matter of seconds to draw up a car, which she hops in and drives away, waving to you as she does so. She speeds out of sight, and the longest ten minutes of your life tick by as you lay on the ground in the tight, thick toon skin. Suddenly, the arms and the legs of the suit twitch, and you suddenly have feeling inside of them. You kick your heeled feet around and flail your arms, and manage to roll yourself over on your giant tits. They bounce you up and down, turning your face red under your pretty makeup. With a lot of effort, you manage to stand up straight, the heavy breasts and ass are bouncing around within the confines of the cartoon goth outfit, the big hair spilling all over your deliciously curvy cartoon skin.

The first thing you do is flip your hair out of the way so you can search for any sign of the zipper. All you feel is soft skin and the top of your corset top - she has definitely gotten rid of the exit. You grab the skin around your face and pull at it, the best you can do is stretch it out a foot in either direction, and have it painfully snap back into place when you let go. Your hands shake in fear as they grab the gigantic set of cartoon breasts trembling and quivering in front of you, you grab one of them and twist and pull, yanking as hard as you can. Just like the rest of the toon suit, it snaps back and successfully knocks you off your heels with its momentum and weight. You comically land on your huge ass, which bounces you back onto your feet. You stumble and regain your balance, brushing the big toon hair out of your face constantly.

A sinking feeling fills your stomach as you try to pull the corset off, which you hope will allow you to breath a little easier. No matter how hard you pull at the laces or the trim, it won’t budge from your body. The same goes for the boots - they resist any attempt at being unzippered, and the skirt clings and stretches from your waist as you pull at it. You weren't thinking about the outfit being removable while you drew it, and accidentally made it a part of the girl’s body. Now you’re stuck with it.

Not wanting anyone to see your bizarre predicament, you start heading home, teetering back and forth in your heels, feeling several pounds of jelly-like flesh swaying and bouncing all around you, clinging and pulling on your real skin underneath. You pull the bright toon hair around your face in an attempt to hide it, and realize there’s no point - people are going to stop and stare at what appears to be a real life cartoon, whether your face is showing or not.

Since you managed to stick to the alleys, no one saw your ridiculous situation as you made your way home. You forgot to lock the door, which lets a sigh of relief come out of your thick juicy lips. You carefully step into your house, trying not to fall over, and close the door, locking it.

A few moments pass, and you decide its time to see the full extent of your situation. You head to the bathroom, walk in, and scream at what you see. Sure enough, there’s your heavily made up face sitting atop a cartoon body, exploding with huge breasts and curves, dressed in a skimpy gothic outfit. The huge blonde hair surrounding your head makes your face look tiny in comparison, the effect of which is doubled by the giant mountains of flesh sticking out from your chest.

Thinking that maybe the pencil can be washed away, you turn the faucet on and start lathering your arms up with soap. You scrub and scrub, but the cartoon skin remains unsmudged. You figure you can at least rid yourself of the real makeup she’s given you, so you lather your face up much as possible, rinse it, blindly grab a towel and dry yourself, and look in the mirror to see the makeup hasn’t budged. You scrub again with the towel, but not a bit of paint has come off - she didn’t put makeup on you, she actually changed the color of your face to look like that. Your breathing becomes quicker and quicker, you raise your hands and sink them into the huge mass of hair surrounding your face. You let out a small yelp, then a small shout, then a prolonged scream of utter horror and panic as the gravity of the situation finally hits you.

“No! NO! Oh god NO!”

Again, you try to pry the hair from your head and the toon skin from your body. The sound of stretching rubber fills your house, along with the heavy wet smacks as you let it go. You scream in pain each time, but it doesn’t stop you from grabbing another part of your new look and pulling it out as far as it will go. This goes on for quite some time, until you collapse on your giant ass, bounce up and down, and eventually come to a stop. You begin to cry, the tears running down your brightly colored face, dripping on the huge tits in front of you.

“Oh god...” you mumble, rolling on to your side. You try to get into the fetal position, but the huge tits make it impossible. You roll around, the breasts flopping heavily side to side, your eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Oh god...”
“Oh god...”
“Oh god...”

***

Ever since your meltdown months ago, you’ve been finding brightly colored packages arriving at your house, full of food and drink, things you simply couldn’t buy anymore in your new state. You knew that your toon creation was providing them, allowing you to live our your miserable existence inside of the sexy toon skin you’d created. You reluctantly ate them, some strange force kept you going, a glimmer of hope remained that she would return and free you from your fleshy prison. No matter where you were in the house, how you sat or how you lay down, you simply couldn’t get used to the toon skin. The heavy flesh made it hard to do anything, and the giant tits and bright hair was always somewhere in your vision.

Today, your package arrived in a strange box. Just like your body, it appears animated, colors swirling around within its outlines. You quickly bring it into the house, swishing your way to the kitchen table, and set it down. Your hands tremble as you open it up, and you jolt back in shock at what you saw.

Staring back at you is a face. A cartoon face, belonging to a beautiful yet exaggerated woman, looking almost identical to the face you had originally given the girl. The makeup is bright and the eyes are huge, bright blue and framed with thick eyeliner and huge lashes. You lift the fleshy mask out of the box, inspect it, and notice dozens of tiny glowing needles on the back of it. A note is open at the bottom of the box.

“Hello, ‘Master’,

I can’t thank you enough for bringing me into this world - there are so many things to see and do! I’ve designed a whole line of amazing fashions that I plan on showing at Fashion Week! Little ol’ me on the runway, I’m going to be busy creating things for quite some time, considering we toons never age ;)

As for you, I can’t help feel bad for the life you’ve drawn up for yourself, so I’ve given you this present - this mask will free you from that ridiculous body you’re still stuck with, just put it on and it’ll take care of everything. I think you’ve wallowed in your misery for long enough.

Toodles!

- Penny”

You look at the face again, your chest flutters with excitement. Free? Free from this body? She’s come to her senses, the crazy bitch has come to her senses! You waste no time at all, quickly turning the mask over and squishing it against your face, and immediately scream in pain as the needles burrow themselves into your skin. The edge of the mask sticks to the toon flesh around your face, and quickly blends in, completely covering any remaining exposed skin you have. You stumble back, completely blinded by the mask, and try pulling the burning skin from your face. No such luck - you are quite familiar with the sound and sensation of toon flesh being stretched, as well as the hard smack as you let it go. The mask burns, the pain building, and you let a muffled cry out from underneath the closed mouth - the pain has begun to spread, down your neck and over your chest, back, and waist. You trip and almost fall as you stagger around the kitchen, knocking over the table, frantically flailing your arms out to grab a hold of something.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pain stops, and is replaced with an overwhelming barrage of sensations. Light suddenly makes its way into your eyes again, and you squint and blink as they adjust to the brightness of it. The thick jiggling constrictive suit suddenly feels as if has been pulled from your body, and you find yourself being hit with the cool air of the kitchen for the first time in months.

The problem is, the sensations are coming directly from the toon skin, which you quickly grab a hold of in shock. Your fingernails return sensation as you pinch the huge tits, and you step back, feeling for the first time your huge ass squishing against the wall. You can feel every single part of the toon body now, which sends your mind into a tailspin.

“No...” you whisper, hearing for the first time a sultry female voice coming from your lips. A hand goes over your mouth as you run to the bathroom, feeling every bit of the swaying and bouncing the toon curves give with each step. You quickly turn the corner into the bathroom, and see, with toon eyes, your completely cartoon body staring back at you. You gasp, and scream when you see your expressions being conveyed through the toon face. You quickly start pinching and picking at where you think the toon mask’s edge was, but there is no seam to be found - your skin was flawless and sensitive, as if you were drawn that way.

Remembering the note was the last thing you did before letting out an ungodly female scream. “Free you from that ridiculous body”... which you now know referred to the flesh and blood part of you. You grit your new teeth as you pull and push at your breasts, desperately trying to feel your human chest underneath all of the toon femininity, but the only thing you manage to do is feel what it is like to have your permanent, massive breasts groped for the first time.

Something in your mind snaps, you run back to the kitchen and grab the first knife you can find. You don't want that crazy toon bitch to have the satisfaction of forcing you into this personal hell, so you stab the knife as hard as you can into your arm. The knife digs in deep, stretching and pulling your skin like putty, then bounces back out with a loud SPROING! You freeze, staring at your unmarked skin, then try again, this time plunging the knife into your chest. The knife sinks deep into your breasts, then shoots out again at a lightning fast speed, flying out the window. Your chest wiggles and shakes, then settles to normal, and everything is quiet again.

Putting your hands to your face, you fall to the floor, collapsing in a heap. You stare at the note on the floor for a long, long time. The one part you read over, and over, and over again, while you shake with horror under your big immaculate head of hair:

“We toons never age ;)
Toon Skin
You are out for a walk one day, and happen to find a very special pencil laying on the ground. To your surprise, you can create objects out of thin air simply by sketching them into existence! You decide the best use of this gift is to bring one of your cartoon creations to life, one who will never leave you...


This story was originally a chapter in an interactive story on writing.com, but for some reason the owner of the story deleted it. So here it is! Since it was an interactive story, it's the first one I've done in second person. 
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A few months ago, puffin-plathy wrote a Funhouse story, "The Cop". Check it out here! - puffin-platthy.deviantart.com/…
A few months ago, puffin-plathy wrote a Funhouse story, "The Cop". Check it out here! - puffin-platthy.deviantart.com/…

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StickySteph
Stephanie Sanders

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:iconrookbartly2:
RookBartly2 Featured By Owner Edited 5 days ago  Hobbyist Artist
1)  thankies for da fav ;D

2)  You should do some more LC type stories!
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:iconsketchyamos:
SketchyAmos Featured By Owner Dec 6, 2014
Have you ever considered a glumdalclitch type story, perhaps something like the scene in 2010's Gulliver's travels, or perhaps a Lilliputian tie up with your touch?
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:iconrouskof:
Rouskof Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2014
hello stickysteph, a big fan of your story here, do you think that you are going to do more of the funhouse story?

I wish so hard to read more of these wonderful story...
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:iconstickysteph:
StickySteph Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2014
I have many ideas for the Funhouse, but I'm not sure when I'll make them into full stories. 
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:iconrouskof:
Rouskof Featured By Owner Aug 24, 2014
ah, its a good thing to know that you have many ideas for the series, make it at your own rythm !

good day to you ;)
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:iconconan12:
Conan12 Featured By Owner Aug 13, 2014
just a question. On sticky site do you write with D3_M name. It's yes do you think you can repost the stories because stickysite is close
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:iconstickysteph:
StickySteph Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2014
No, I didn't write those stories. 
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:iconconan12:
Conan12 Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2014
did you say if I can read this stories at another place because the site is close since yesterday
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:iconmr-cam-jones:
Mr-Cam-Jones Featured By Owner May 13, 2014
Hey there what's going on!

Not to long ago I was aimlessly wandering the endless expanse that is the internet and I came across something of a gem of fiction that I believe you would enjoy reading if you get the chance!

Now it wouldn't surprise me if you had already happened across this particular tale because it right up your alley...  

Nonetheless...

bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction…

I should point out though that I don't often post links leading off DA, mostly because I usually don't trust them but I felt that this one was worthy of exception.  However, if you are like me and don't like links, you can find the story yourself by Googleing the words:

Big Closet Attacked by Silk Gloves

Oh, and if you have any recommendations of your own, they are more than welcome!
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:iconiwannabeclaire:
IwannabeClaire Featured By Owner Apr 14, 2014
Loved The Funhouse, Hon!

Hugs & Fab Hair!

Claire
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