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Glamour model and pinup girl Paige Turner thinks she's landed a cushy gig as the star of an art exhibit. All she has to do is sit in a booth all evening to get paid - she doesn't even have to interact with the patrons. Talk about money for nothing! But what does the artist mean when she calls the booth a Compression Chamber...?

Contains shrinking process, shrinking out of clothes, public humiliation. Contains DOC, EPUB, and PDF formats, as well as a separate cover image. Appx 9000 words.

EXCERPT
Soon, Abby stopped by the exhibit and smiled brightly at Paige. “Hey! How’s it going in there?”
Paige yawned pointedly. “Boring. And I don’t think the illusion is working--none of the people who’ve looked at my exhibit seem like they noticed anything happening.”
“Really?” Abby looked puzzled. She pressed the button, watching Paige closely.
Paige felt the curious tingle again, and she shivered. “Ooh. I keep feeling this weird tingly feeling, but otherwise, yeah, doesn’t seem like much is happening.”
Abby smiled enigmatically. “Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s working just fine.”
“Okay…?” Paige cocked an eyebrow skeptically. She fidgeted on the stool again. “If you say so.”
“I’ll leave you to it, Paige. I’ll be back to check on you again later.” Abby walked away, still smiling.
“Weirdo,” Paige muttered. She smoothed out her skirt again. She noticed her bustier had also shifted slightly out of place; scowling, she adjusted it, wondering why it didn’t seem to want to stay in place properly. While she was looking down at herself, she felt another tingle. She glanced up to see a young girl with curly red hair, perhaps ten years old, pressing the button.
“What does this do?” the girl asked.
“It’s supposed to create an illusion, I think,” Paige replied noncommittally. She looked back down and returned her attention to her bustier, but she soon felt another tingle, and then another. “Hey!”
“Aw, man. It’s not working,” the girl whined.
She hit the button again, sending another tingle shooting down Paige’s spine. This was followed by another sensation--the feeling of her hair tumbling down her back and shoulders. “What the hell?” Paige asked, grabbing her jet-black tresses in disbelief. “How did that happen?” She could feel the bow and hairpins she’d used to hold it up tangled in her locks. It was as if her hairstyle had spontaneously fallen apart. Paige held a hairpin up to her face, staring at it in confusion.
“Oh, your hair changed! That was kinda cool,” the girl said. She pressed the button again.
This time, in addition to the tingle, Paige felt a bizarre sensation of movement in her hand, as if the hairpin had suddenly come alive and stretched out between her fingers. She dropped it as if she’d been shocked, staring down at the pin where it fell on the floor. She was momentarily struck by the odd notion that the floor seemed farther away than it should.
“Aw. It doesn’t do anything else? Bor-ing,” the girl grumbled, turning and walking away.
Paige climbed down from the stool to retrieve the hairpin--or tried to. She misjudged the distance, and her platform shoes hit the floor of the booth with a loud thwack. She nearly lost her balance, wobbling unsteadily in her shoes, and she felt something brush against her legs with a rush of air. She grabbed the stool to steady herself and looked down to see what it was. Paige was mortified when she realized that her skirt had fallen off her hips and plunged to the floor.