Registry


Lindsey was kind of surprised that she didn’t pass out. Rumor was that sylphs usually slept after shrinking.

So she sat in the pocket, growing steadily warmer as her captor walked quickly to the sylph registry office.

She tried standing to see if she could reach his cock through the back of his pocket. She found it readily. He was quite erect, straining against the fabric of his underwear.

“Not so small anymore,” she murmured happily.

His hand pressed against her from outside his pants. “Later!” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” she called. He let go and she sank down to her haunches. Lint from his pocket was starting to adhere to her sweaty skin. Which meant that Fred would owe her a bath…

FINALLY she heard the bell ring from the Registry door. Light came in from the top of the pocket, immediately eclipsed by his hand as he reached for her.

She stood and covered her face. He picked her up, possibly grabbing a quick feel of her boobs as he deposited her on the counter.

The man behind the counter offered her a Kleenex. She took it but turned to Fred. “Wipe me down, Fred?” she asked. His hands shook but he did quickly wipe the sweat, lint and other dirt off of her while he answered the buearocrat’s questions. He knew her full name, address, point of contact. She had to provide her age. She was honest, nothing to be ashamed of. She was proud of how she looked for her age.

The asshole with the pen added ten years. “The women sylphs always knock ten years off their age, thinking no one’ll know.”

“Check my driver’s license!” she shouted.

“Oh, I left that in your car,” Fred said. “But I locked the door, so your next of kin can collect all your things.”

“Good thinking,” Ass said.

“Except your prejudice makes me 54 years fucking old!” Lindsey complained. He ignored her.

“Name?” he asked.

“Lindsey Branch,” she shouted.

“Princess,” Fred said. Lindsey turned to look up at him in wonder. “I, uh, I had a dream last night. It was… It was about owning a sylph.”

“Oh, really?” she murmured. She tried to remember if she’d had the Princess dream after seducing this babysitter.

“Princess,” Asshole repeated. “Anything else?”

“Maud,” Fred said, his voice a little shaky. “Princess Maud.”

“As in Bea Arthur’s character?” the man asked.

“Maud Adams,” Fred explained. He looked guilty.

“Ah. The women in Octopussy,” the clerk said. He typed quickly.

“I’m Princess Pussy?” Lindsey said with a smile.

“Technically,” Fred admitted, “though my mom would never let me call you that.”

“Spoilsport,” she muttered.



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Index

77. A Little Fevered

79. Shopping