Gromet's PlazaMachine Stories

Jane Gets Laundered

by Julien Sorel

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© Copyright 2009 - Julien Sorel - Used by permission

Storycodes: Machine/f; wash; susp; fold; bag; store; nc; X

Summary: Jane new automated laundry system could use more safety features to keep girls from falling in.

(Part of a series of cartoon-themed stories written for a real-life couple. - J.)

Jane was extremely excited about the installation of her new, automated, computerized washer-dryer. Actually, it called itself a "laundry management system." The Friday that installation was completed, she was so preoccupied with her purchase that Kevin had difficulty keeping her mind on sex that night. He decided to schedule a family visit for the next day, as Jane would be completely absorbed in doing her first computerized laundry run.

Saturday was sunny and warm, with light pouring through the windows as Jane selected clothes and linens for a big laundry cycle to test the new system. She was dressed all in white: a kerchief wrapped around her light brown hair; a gauzy T-shirt that let her lovely large breasts swing gently free, and loose-fitting gym shorts over cotton panties. She padded around the sunlit house barefoot, feeling happy and sexy as she went through her closets.

Unfortunately, Jane wasn't familiar enough with her automated system, and she set off an overload indicator when she leaned into the washer to look at the dials and readouts inside. The computer automatically dropped the bottom of the washer space to make additional room, and Jane, leaning on the moving panel, toppled forward and fell face first into the laundry compartment. By the time she was able to pull her head and shoulders out of the pile of laundry, the door had snapped shut behind her, and the readouts inside the washer started counting down. "No!" she yelled, and threw herself at the door. But it was locked shut.

A cascade of warm, soapy water fell over Jane as she struggled with the door. In seconds her skimpy summer outfit was transparent. She tried to get leverage to kick the door open, but the now-wet laundry shifted beneath her and sucked her down. As the wash cycle started, she was head over heels, her bare legs kicking in the air.

From the outside, Jane was practically invisible within the spinning, churning washer, hidden by a whirlwind of soap suds and linens. Once in a while her surprised face would appear, pressed against the washer window, only to be pushed down into the depths again. Other times a bare breast, shaken temporarily free of her T-shirt, or the sole of Jane's foot would be framed in the window, then vanish as quickly as it arrived. The powerful churning movement eventually stripped off Jane's baggy shorts, so that the brief sightings of her ass become more provocative. Finally the spin cycle began, and nothing could be seen except for flashes of girl flesh amid the flying whites.

One of the biggest selling points of the system was that it gathered weather data to determine whether it should use a dryer cycle or a clothesline in the open air for natural drying. And today was too beautiful a day to leave the wash indoors. Using powerful clothespins on each shoulder of her wet T-shirt, robotic arms hung the soggy Jane out on a line between two of her C-cup bras, and pulleys wheeled her and the rest of the laundry into her back yard. Dazed from her ordeal in the washer, Jane let out a little groaning noise, then passed out and hung swinging in the warm breeze, water trickling down her sopping wet body and dripping from her toes onto the grass. Her T-shirt, yanked up so high by the clothesline that it exposed her soft stomach and pulled her elbows up like a scarecrow's, showed the outline of her breasts and nipples clearly; and her flimsy cotton panties had become little more than a showcase for her private charms. As Jane baked in the sun along with the rest of the load, her scanties dried with the imprint of her intimate parts.

If Jane had only come to consciousness while she was hanging on the clothesline, she could have slipped out of her T-shirt and gotten away, topless but free. Sadly, she was still too groggy to move when the system's sensors detected that it was time to advance the clothesline into the folding room. There, a mobile scanner ran a laser over the label on Jane's collar, and registered her into inventory as a T-shirt. Laundry was being mechanically folded in the order that it arrived; when it was Jane's turn, she was lifted onto a table by robotic arms. The system paused over this unusual item, but quickly calculated Jane's geometrical possibilities, then carefully folded her into a rectangle so tiny that it was impossible to believe that it had been a 5'8" young woman a few seconds earlier.

As soon as the arms released Jane, her muscles immediately relaxed into a more realistic position. Undaunted, the system folded and compressed Jane once again into a fraction of her former size. Then it brought out a mobile packaging unit, covered Jane loosely in a sheet of thin plastic, and used a vacuum pump to suck it tight in a fraction of a second, shrink-wrapping her.

The arms released Jane, and this time she stayed where she had been put. Looking at the rigid little laundry package, it would be hard to figure out how Jane had been reshaped into it. Upturned fingers and toes were peeping out from above her thighs. Her head seemed to be tucked somewhere deep between her legs. Her arms vanished mysteriously. She was still barely wearing her shirt and panties, though by this point they were no longer serving their original function of protecting her modesty.

A special mobile printer inked a special barcode for packages just above Jane's ass. Then she was lifted by robotic arms and placed on a conveyor belt with the other T-shirts. In her bedroom, she was transported to her clothing closet and placed on the top shelf, on a soft pile of folded cotton clothes. Other T-shirts were stacked on top of her; then her pile was pushed to the back of the closet to make room for a second and third stack. By the time the load of laundry was completely put away, the carefully folded and stored girl was well out of sight.

In a few hours, a very confused Jane was making tiny mmmphing sounds. But she was folded so snugly that her jaw was squeezed shut, and she was trying to talk into her own cleavage, which was pushed up over her mouth. What with the layer of plastic around her, and the stacks of soft, sound-absorbing fabric around and above her, it would have been very hard to hear her grunts even from right within the closet. After a useless attempt to figure out where she was or why she couldn't move, Jane finally drifted off to sleep, lulled by the powerful, pleasant smell of freshly washed laundry.

Kevin came home that night and was surprised not to find Jane. Eventually he went to sleep in the bedroom, just a few feet away from his clean, neatly folded girlfriend. Jane was the only person who used her closet; now that she had become an article of clothing in her own collection, it wasn't clear who would take her down from her shelf, or when.



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