She toweled herself off. As usual, her roommate had used up most of the hot water, so the tail end of the shower had been a bracingly cold affair. As she reached for her robe, she noticed something odd on the floor.
 
 
"What the…"
 
 
It was a bottle. There was nothing particularly strange about the bottle itself. It was simply one of those big glass gallon jugs. The sort you might get fancy cider in. What made it strange was that it was in the bathroom. The jug seemed perfectly clean. It might not have ever been used. And the cap was sitting right there next to it. It had probably been there when she came in. Tucked away beside the sink as it was, she wouldn't have noticed it on her way into the shower.
 
 
She raised her eyebrow and bit her lip. A naughty, absurd though came to mind. A few days prior, she was surfing around on the internet looking for fun little videos to share. She'd come upon a short one that, as far as she could tell, was a failed attempt at a viral video. It was presented as an instructional video, but the lesson the young woman in the video was trying to teach seemed impossible. She'd taken a bottle not unlike this one and… climbed inside. It didn't seem to matter that the bottleneck was only an inch wide. She just glided one arm in, then the other, and with some wriggling and squirming, worked her way into the bottle.
 
 
It had to be fake. Of course it was fake. It couldn't be real. But it had seemed so real. There was none of the phoney looking digital distortion. And something about it made her feel… Well, suffice it to say she'd downloaded the file and saved it in her secret stash. There one she saved for evenings when her roommate wasn't home.
 
 
She didn't know what she found so alluring about it. Maybe it was the impossibility of it, some echo of the part of her that wanted cartoons to be real. Maybe it was the helplessness of being neatly tucked into something that would make it so hard to move, so hard to escape. But she was entranced by the thought of someone slipping into the tiny, cramped space.
 
 
As she thought back to the video, she ran her finger around the rim of the bottle like she was playing a wine glass. She slipped a finger inside and felt a little jolt of forbidden thrill, like she was teasing the bottle. She giggled at herself. That was so silly. It shouldn't feel naughty at all. But as she slipped a second finger in, she found herself blushing and licking her lips subconsciously.
 
 
Two fingers were about all she could fit, so of course she tried three. The digits pressed firmly into the mouth of the jug. Though they clearly wouldn't fit, they didn't quite seem to stop inching deeper. She pressed a little harder. The squeeze of her fingers was at the very cusp of discomfort, but still she pressed harder. Something in her mind wouldn't let her ease off until she was certain she couldn't get them any deeper.
 
 
Before her slowly widening eyes, her hand kept sliding. Her curled-over pinkie slipped into the neck of the bottle. Then her folded thumb. Soon the lightly damp wrist was pinched down to the size of the mouth of the bottle. A bit more pressing let her hand slip into the roomier interior.
 
 
"H-how…" she breathed.
 
 
She gazed in fascination at her fingertips. They softly Squeaked across the curved glass. Her mind and heart raced. Without a moment of further thought of the explanation of how this could happen, or the consequences of going further, she dropped her towel and eagerly poked her fingers at the lip of the bottle. It took some doing, but she found if she shoved her arm deeper while pushing her fingers alongside it, her fingers would be dragged inside as well.
 
 
Her breath was shallow and fluttery as a second hand uncurled inside the bottle, two wrists squished into a space barely large enough for two fingers. It left her arms in an awkward position, but she found the her wrists were perfectly willing to bend like stiff rubber, painlessly curving to allow her to shift and reposition herself. And she would need it, because having come this far, there was no way she wasn't going to go much further.
 
 
Almost giddy, she tipped the bottle down and sat on the floor. She raised her foot and slid it in between her wrists. At first her hands started to slide out. In the back of her mind, that was a relief. It meant she would be able to pull herself out again. But on the surface, it was the last thing she wanted. If she was going to experiment with this bottle, she would go just as far as she dared.
 
 
She wiggled her fingers and found if she made them into fists that would give her just enough resistance to keep them inside. The freshly bathed skin on her arms guided her toes in perfectly. With just a bit of wiggling and shoving, she'd worked her foot inside the bottle.
 
 
The cool glass of the bottle of the bottle against the ball of her foot caused her to quiver. It was so tight inside she couldn't even flatten her sole against it, but she pressed on. There was a long way to go before she was satisfied.
 
 
Her efforts to raise the other foot into position caused the bottle to clink a bit against the tile floor, but she was getting better at this. The second foot squashed into the bottle in half the time. She paused to revel in the absurdity. Both hands to the wrist and both feet to the ankle, packed into a simple glass jug. She couldn't get a good angle to see what it looked like. She could feel so much of the glass, though. It was quickly growing pleasantly warm to her touch. She must have filled most of the space in the bottle already. Her soft skin pressed flat against the curved surface, while the rest of her was sticking out the neck, impossibly hogtied by a bottle she should have fit a couple fingers into...
 
 
She started working herself deeper, almost frantic to feel the tight embrace all over her body. She squirmed and shimmied like she was trying to slip on a pair of tight jeans. The feeling of the round glass rim squeaking softly up her thighs made her tremble. As her butt neared the bottle, she shuddered in anticipation. This would be great.
 
 
One firm yank produced a slippery *SHLUP*. Her plump bottom squished inside, pressing her hands and legs even tighter and treating her to the fascinating sensation of softened flesh confirming to the now nicely warmed glass. The momentum and pressure caused the lip of the bottle to slip up along her midriff in a long, slow slide. Her heart pounded in her chest and lips curled. She imagined the slide continuing on it's own, packing her greedily inside the bottle. She was almost disappointed when the lip dimpled into the soft underside of her breasts, which were squeezed tight between her almost entirely bottle arms and brought her motion to a stop.
 
 
She shut her eyes and squirmed what little she could. Her hips, her thighs… other places… They all squeaked and rubbed against the bottle. Everything felt amplified, sensitized.
 
 
Her range of motion was greatly limited. Her breathing was shallow by necessity. It should have been uncomfortable. It should have been impossible. But everything about the compression and restriction drove her to new heights of excitement.
 
 
Not until the wiggling caused the bottle to roll aside a bit did her wits return enough to think ahead. She rolled until her nipples brushed the cool tile and she was left facing the floor. She, for the first time since her hand slid into the bottle, struggled rather squirmed. She didn't want to escape, necessarily. It was too much of a thrill to give up on it so soon. But she needed to know that she could escape.
 
 
It took a worrisome amount of effort, but she found she could just inch herself out of the bottle. Any deeper and she'd be well and truly stuck. Now that she knew she could drag herself of again, she was free to enjoy herself as she was.
 
 
She wobbled and shimmied, both to enjoy the feel of her skin squidging against the glass and to try to roll herself so that she was facing up again.
 
 
She finally rocked herself free of the groove the bottle had settled into to slowly roll face up.
 
 
Her lips were curled in a dreamy smile and her eyes were shut to better drink in the sensations when the felt the bottle jerk upward. Her eyes shot open to find herself face to face with her roommate. In her obsessive focus upon the joy of her predicament, she'd not heard the nosy young woman open the door.
 
 
"Look at you…" her roommate purred, hefting the jug that contained much of her friend.
Struggling again in the bottle, she glanced down at her almost proudly displayed breasts. Out of habit, she tried to cover herself with her hands. All she managed to do was slide them around a bit inside the bottle with a couple soft squeaks. A blush colored her cheeks.
 
 
"It's not what it looks like," she said softly.
 
 
"Oh no?" The bottle turned in her grip and faced the mirror. "Because it looks like this."
 
 
There, waiting for her in the bathroom mirror, was the most absurd sight she'd ever seen. Her body from the breasts up emerged from the tiny neck of the bottle like she was nothing more than a bust. The rest of her was packed into the bottle, flesh squished against the glass. Her limbs were a tangle, one hand between her legs and jammed against the bottom, the other pinned between her thigh and the glass. Her roommate gave the bottle a slow spin. She found herself eagerly twisting her neck to see her predicament from all angles. There was her midriff, flat against the front of the bottle. And on the other side, her buns pressed firmly against the glass like she was mooning a passing car.
 
 
After a full rotation, her friends clacked the bottle down on the counter beside the sink. The force of being dropped caused the lip of the bottle to claim another inch or two, squashing her plump breasts inside a bit. That was all the progress the bottle needed to start inching her deeper inside with a slow, steady slide. The neck squeezed her breasts tighter and started to pinch across her perky nipples. She huffed a sultry breath and weakly squirmed, but it was no good. Her breasts slipped further inside. And once the bottle's lip could ride the upper curve of her chest, they popped fully inside so quickly her shoulders went in with them. There lip pressed against her chin and finally slowed, leaving only her head outside the bottle.
 
 
"A little help?" She peeped, her head starting to tip back as she inched deeper.
 
 
"Oh, sure. It won't take much."
 
 
She watched her friend casually grab a handful of damp hair. Then she smirked and switched to poking two fingers on her forehead. She pressed down and, with aching slowness, stuffed her the rest of the way inside.
 
 
A disorienting *shloop* packed her head in against the rest of her contorted body. She felt nearly her whole face sink between her squished breasts. The rest pressed against the glass to watch as her friend leaned down to fetch the cap. She screwed it on and that was that. A whole, grown, naked woman, neatly bottled and sealed. She writhed a bit, but the pressure was so great she could scarcely slither a fraction of an inch. But even that set her nerves aflame. She was helpless, compacted, titillated.
Her roommate simply hooked her finger through the handle of the jug and lifted her up.
 
 
"Well," She gave the bottle a vigorous shake, jiggling its excited contents. "Time to find a place for you in the pantry…"