"God fucking dammit, Jeremy! Again?"
Rachel cursed out loud and fumed to herself as she pulled her wet ass out of the seatless bowl she'd lowered herself onto in the dark. Slapping the seat down, she tried to clean herself with what towels and paper were nearby.
In the bedroom, her husband shifted and groaned. Scrunching her eyes, she swallowed any further words. As irate as she was at her husband for leaving the toilet seat up for nth day running despite her constant reminders, this was not the hour to deal with it.
After cleaning herself up and slipped back into bed on their Alaskan King, she let herself be enveloped by his long shape. At a dwarfing 200 cm tall, she sometimes wondered if he even understood what it was like for the mere mortals around him. At 173 cm, she always considered herself decently tall for a woman. And he was comforting to be around, when he remembered she was there. He was a good man but he just needed a firmer reminder.
In the morning, he scoffed at her seat reminder and assured her he wouldn't forget, and then promptly forgot twice in one afternoon. Rachel didn't want to fight with him, they'd had plenty of fights, but she didn't know what else to do. At least once he had said that she needed to be more mindful and she fumed by going around plopping down all the seats. Only then, he grumbled about accidentally pissing on the seat.
It was such a small thing and yet two recent UTIs told her something had to change. Scrolling through online listings for the possibility of some infrared sensing seat that might work for both of them, Rachel found herself digging deep through the pages on Google until she came to a low-key but fascinating site with incredibly-cheap prices.
Flush With Pride? She snorted and noted that might be one of the silly puns her husband would state on a whim. Her skepticism flared as she browsed and actually read the fine print. Transforming restroom products? The joke site of some bitter utlra-feminist? Everything seems legit though. They even had HTTPS and a solid order page.
Buying a comfortable seat guaranteed to "help husbands and sons remember to leave the seat down for other household members", she included scrubbing brushes and cleansers because of the good pricing.
When her orders arrived in a week, she made a note to remind her husband that she was going to switch out the "wobbly and worn" seat in the master bath where he caused her the most trouble. Jeremy agreed without paying attention, working on video editing at the time.
Once everything was in place and tidied up, she found it hard to keep her attention on sewing work for her Etsy plushie page. He actually managed to put the seat down for the evening. Rachel wondered if perhaps she'd misread the order, and if there was magic, then it just led men to do the right thing.
Later, she was in bed and had nearly forgotten about the matter when she heard Jeremy get up from the last of his work and use the master bath. And next sound was a squeaky, high-pitched soprano scream.
Dashing from bed, she had to hide her smile as she witnessed an unfamiliar, petite young woman with her butt dunked into the cold toilet water. As she whimpered, Rachel helped her to her feet and got her a towel.
Immediately, it was impossible to ignore how tiny Jeremy had become. Grabbing a tape measure from her sewing kit, Rachel soon declared that he...she was barely 146 cm, a full 54 cm smaller than she'd been mere moments ago. Not only that, but she had a delicate, plush look once she peeled back her drape of manly clothes. Her plump thighs spread out from a wide, curvy hips with a narrow, hairless gap between.
Her breasts, with broad, red nervously-erect nipples, looked to Rachel's scrutinizing eye to be comparable to her own DDs but dominated Jeremy's tiny chest. A swoop of dark brown hair parted awkwardly at the center of her head, askew with all the excitement but settling easily on her lean shoulders.
Rachel marveled at her altered husband, little more than a soft, petite little toy doll. Pondering, she imagined that her husband might not be more than 90 pounds now. With her yoga and weight training exercises, she could probably lift her.
Without giving warning, Rachel did exactly that. It was even easier than she imagined. The hard part was Jeremy shrieking in terror right next to her ear as she hoisted her dainty husband into her arms. Begging with a girlish squeak, Jeremy warned that she had to pee, or at least she feared she might. Plopping her plush, girlish rear on the seat, Rachel caught her breath and helped her husband through the process.
When the panic settled down, Jeremy finally had enough presence of mind to ask what happened. As Rachel filled her in, Jeremy adorably fumed and announced, "I guess there is real magic but why not just tell me to put the seat down more, gosh darn it?"
Rachel fumed too but eased when Jeremy flinched. She pointed out how many times she'd told him. She lamented how this felt like her last resort, a reminder that might actually stick. Before Jeremy could fretfully question whether this was permanent, Rachel recited the instructions that came with the seat.
"The first offense is 24 hours, or a day. The second is two. And it doubles from there. Six strikes and you'll definitely need some help for your 32 days. A tenth straight slip up and you may well forget being a man over 512 days of this."
Her husband's cute green eyes peered out widely as she stammered through apology and nervous relief. Searching for clothes, Rachel had more fun than she might want to admit brushing her husband's hair, then finding some underwear that actually fit her in the oldest clothes she kept. A pair of her yoga pants managed to fit Jeremy's tiny shape and a sports bra fell across her like a sleeveless top.
As the topper, Rachel brainstormed names before finally settling on Giselle. "Giselle" grumbled with the way her male, tall self had set things almost twenty inches higher than she could use. Though she mostly responded with kindness, Rachel did enjoy watching her soft, busty gymnast-sized husband hop to reach the most basic things she needed.
In bed, Giselle peered at how the once comfortable bed now felt like an ocean she might lose herself in. But Rachel didn't have sleep on her mind. Instead, her fingers found the snug place between Giselle's plump thighs and teased her tiny, concentrated nerves.
Though there were many things Jeremy loathed about being Giselle that night, the way her wife knew just how to make her squirm with undreamt of pleasure was not one of them.