Absorbing Vigilante

  I had been trying to drive my husband away from his racist tendencies for a long time.  They didn't start cropping up until he started his new job, which had a much more racially diverse workforce than his old job as a plumber.  He came home from work one day complaining, saying someone reported him for harassment.  Knowing I wasn't going to get any more specifics from him, I went to his workplace to ask about it.  They told me he had spouted some rather racially charged expletives at an African-American woman who, having just found out she was pregnant from her ex-boyfriend, definitely had enough stress in her life without my husband being an asshole around her.  I sought her out to apologize on his behalf, but she assumed I would be the same way and yelled at me to stay away from her.  Defeated, I headed back home to confront the man I was strongly considering asking for a divorce.  Under no circumstance did I want his ideologies rubbing off on any of our children.

So far, none of them had fallen into their father's racism.  Daxton and Miley, our two oldest, were perfectly fine at 13 and 12 respectively, being two of the sweetest tweens you'll ever meet.  The twins, Kayla and Shayla, were no different, building a vibrant and diverse friend circle around them at 8 years old.  Sage was closest me at only 4, so she wasn't a worry, but Kaiden looked more up to his father as an exceptionally impressionable 5-year-old.  It seemed to me that separating the kids from their father would actually be for the best.

Little did I know how soon that would be happening.  I had noticed a car following me at a distance, but I didn't think much of it, thinking they were just headed in the same direction as me.  I arrived home to find Daxton and Miley had been put in charge while their father went out, probably to a bar to complain to his friends.  I wrangled the other kids to tell them what I had been thinking about.  Before I could get started, I noticed the car from earlier parked in front of the house.  Concerned, I pointed it out to the kids, telling them to head for a different room.  I saw some odd movement inside the car before we could get moving, then...

I woke up in darkness with the voices of my children crying out everywhere around me.  Four of the six found themselves in darkness, with Sage and Kaiden finding themselves in the light of the outside world.  Kaiden was staring unwillingly at the seat of a car, while Sage felt like her body was wrapped around something outside of her control.  No one could move any part of themselves, aside from some pressure being put on the twins as they were pushed downward.  All in all, everything about each of us was completely out of our control, and as our surroundings began moving, I understood a bit more once a muffled, but familiar, voice spoke up.

"Not like you care, but the name's Asha," the woman from the office began.  "Looks like the asshole gets what he deserves, while taking his whole family down with him.  I don't know exactly where any of you ended up, but you're all parts of my body now, and that's all you'll ever be for the rest of my life.  Don't know if ALL of you deserve it, but HE certainly does.  I'll be erasing my memory of this later, so don't fool yourselves into thinking any of you are getting special treatment.  Hope you're all happy with yourselves."

The news sent us into a tizzy, especially as we all tried to figure out what we had been turned into.  The woman, Asha, didn't seem to realize that she didn't get my husband, and she was going to forget what she did later?  Did she have any idea how big of a family she had just doomed to existence as her body parts?

Sage figured out her situation first, her body being used to turn the steering wheel as our host drove home.  She was Asha's right hand, her limbs-turned-fingers wrapped around the rubber wheel, feeling every little twitch of the muscles her body contained.  Meanwhile, the twins realized their surroundings smelled like feet, Daxton and Miley felt their bodies jiggle slightly with the car's movement, and Kaiden dangled from the woman's head in countless strands as I realized what the fishy smell around me meant.

Asha made good on her promise once she got home, quickly casting a spell that removed our transformations from her memory, leaving me and my family to our new fates.  Her bath that night solidified our ideas as to what each of us had turned into, and we all tried to decide what my husband would have been if he had been home.  We quickly decided that he would've ended up as our host's butt, given the way she had referred to him earlier.  Asha tucked into bed, leaving us to our thoughts as we discovered that body parts can't sleep.  We decided that we would try our best to accept our new lives as simple parts of this pregnant African-American woman's body, and just be glad that she was single for the time being.  Kaiden found part of himself sandwiched between Asha's head and pillow, Daxton and Miley's fleshy forms squished into each other, and the rest of us laid mostly motionless under the blanket as the night went on.

-------------------------

Asha's nearly to term now, almost nine months pregnant with fraternal twins.  Her excitement to meet her little boy and girl is obvious to everyone around her, as well as those attached to her without her remembering.  She was confused when my former husband showed up to work, but he was fired as soon as he spouted more racist shit her way, removing him from our host's life once and for all.

It's been eight months since my family and I were transformed into parts of Asha's body.  We've all gotten used to our new stations in life, although I'm uniquely not looking forward to the future.  We try not to have hard feelings toward our host, seeing as she believed she was punishing people who deserved it, but that's kind of hard when she controls every aspect of our existences.

Sage has a rather active life as Asha's right hand.  She was only four when we were transformed, so her mind has adapted to her new body and life pretty well.  Her fingers being manipulated to hold things, write, type, occasionally performing rude gestures to ruder people... She enjoys pretty much all of it, realizing that she could be something that moves less, or stays in the darkness more often.  Winter wasn't easy on Sage as she kept being covered in gloves and mittens, depriving her of vision for extended periods of time.  Her favorite thing is having her nails painted, like the simple white polish that's been recently applied.  She says it makes her feel pretty, like having her hair done back when she was a little girl instead of a grown woman's hand.

Kaiden hangs contentedly from Asha's head, part of him having been pulled back into a ponytail while the rest flows loosely across her shoulders and back.  As her hair, he gets a lot of movement as well, completely at the whim of the wind and our host's head movements.  He likes the attention he gets while being styled, even if being twisted into cornrows hurts for a while.  Being washed isn't exactly his favorite activity, as having the shampoo, conditioner and other hair products lathered onto his strands isn't exactly pleasant for him.  He doesn't like being plastered to her back during showers either, but he still enjoys the fresh, clean feeling after being thoroughly washed, despite the unpleasant process it takes to get to that point.

I think down to Kayla and Shayla's sock-clad forms, supporting Asha's increasing weight from below.  They have to deal with being the pregnant woman's feet, Kayla on the left and Shayla on the right.  Foot sweat, aching and repeated impacts on the floor are what the former 8-year-olds' lives consist of now, and they've been a bit slower to adapt than their younger siblings.  Not like I blame them; as feet, they're routinely left in darkness, confined to socks and shoes on a regular basis.  They've learned to hate heeled shoes, as their bodies are left aching for hours afterward until our host gets around to massaging them, which they reluctantly admit to enjoying.  They don't mind it as much when Asha is at home, as that means they're usually left bare to be able to see.  Nail painting is their favorite activity, rather similar to Sage so far above them, and it's something the three sisters have bonded over.  Kind of nice to hear, honestly.

Daxton and Miley have been the slowest of the kids to adapt to their new bodies, being the oldest of the six.  Finding themselves paired together and attached to the pregnant woman's chest hasn't been easy on their psyche, although Miley has taken it better than her brother.  They get even less light than the twins do, almost always being constricted by whatever bra Asha happens to be wearing that day, and further covered by shirts or dresses.  The constant jiggling and wobbling gets on their nerves as well, and it's just been getting worse as they slowly expand with our host's progressing pregnancy.  They can feel themselves produce breast milk, having absolutely no control compared to Asha's hormones getting their bodies ready for breastfeeding.  Miley is excited to meet the babies, and is even fine with the idea of involuntarily providing nourishment for their growth.  Daxton is less excited, to say the least.

I'm not exactly excited to meet the babies either.  After all, as Asha's vagina, I'm the thing they'll be forced through as they're born, stretched painfully beyond my limits throughout the process.  I should have some idea what it will be like - I've had six kids of my own, after all - but from a vagina's perspective?  It's bad enough having urine jettisoned through me on the toilet several times a day, and even more as time goes on.  Having two human beings pushed through my opening doesn't exactly sound like fun to me.  Not to mention having panties in my face all day and night, rarely being given fresh air for any length of time that isn't immediately followed by being pissed through or being submerged in bath water.  We've definitely decided that I have it worst out of any of us.

Any day now, we will be randomly placed body parts on a new mother instead of a pregnant woman.  I'll be used to give birth, Daxton and Miley will be routinely let out of a maternity bra to breastfeed, Sage will be used to gently hold the babies, and Kaiden, Kayla and Shayla will be along for the ride as well.  I've definitely warned everyone about the screaming and sweating Asha will be doing while giving birth, with Kaiden being ironically the most concerned about his strands being soaked in sweat.  The twins are just glad that she won't be standing on them while it's happening, leaving them to worry the most about my well-being.

I just wish my former husband was here.  Just imagining his fatty, round body being squashed under Asha and involuntarily shit out of while the babies are pushed out of me will definitely help me get through the experience.  After all, he would've deserved it.  And besides, it's HIS fault we're in this situation to begin with.  He always was an asshole; why couldn't he have been there to be turned into one?

TF Virus 2

  Continued from Part 1

When I woke up the morning after my last day as Lily, I fully expected to be motionless.  Dad had turned into clothing, and most of the other victims turned into objects as well.  As such, I was rather surprised when I found myself stretching my arms, feeling the most refreshed and energetic than I had in years.  Even more surprised to find my arms a lot shorter than they were before, and a much darker skin tone than I had before.  I hopped down from my suddenly larger bed, headed straight for my full-body mirror near my closet.  Everything about my once familiar bedroom seemed larger and more intimidating, and as I came to a stop in front of the mirror, the reason for that became all too obvious.

Gone was the platinum blonde, blue-eyed, fair-skinned teenager that I had grown into over the last seventeen years.  In her place was a tiny African-American girl with a serious case of bedhead, clad in my old nightgown that could comfortably fit two or more of her.  I walked up to the mirror, raising my hand to meet the reflection's.  I saw the slightly lighter color of the palm of my hand just before it touched the glass.  The girl's deep brown eyes widened in surprise, shocked that this unfamiliar little girl could possibly be my own reflection.  I turned my head back and forth, feeling the new texture of my hair as it brushed past my cheeks and neck.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.  I was still studying my new self as my mother called in gently.  "Lily, honey, I'm coming in," she said as she slowly creaked the door open.  Mom must have expected the worst to have happened to me, so I can only imagine her shock to see a little dark-skinned girl looking in the mirror as if she had never seen her own reflection.  The tension was rather suddenly broken with my mother's shrieking, suddenly crying out.  "OHMIGOD LILY YOU'RE SO CUTE!!!"

I was further broken out of my reverie as my mother's arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me into an enormous bear hug.  The now much larger woman held me tightly, even as I cried out for to stop in my new, unfamiliar voice.  I even noticed a hint of an accent as I tried to wiggle out of Mom's hug, my new energy rising to the surface as we started laughing.  Eventually I gave up, simply wrapping my shorter arms around her to return her affection.  I may have looked completely different, but I was still human, and we were both grateful for that.

There was something nagging on my mind though.  Every time Mom called me Lily, it was like there was a disconnect between me and my name.  There was something else in my mind, but why would I identify with a bird species?  I suddenly realized that some people can be named after birds, and this was one of the more popular options.  "Oh, Lily, I'm so glad you're okay!" Mom cried, tears starting to form.  "We need to reintroduce you to Evelyn and William!"

"Okay, Mommy!" I replied cutely, the word 'mommy' slipping out naturally even though I hadn't called her that since I was nine.  "Just one thing, though..."

"What is it, Lil?" she asked, suddenly sounding concerned, her movements quickly ceasing entirely.  I couldn't blame her, after what happened to Dad compared to me.

"I don't think my name is Lily anymore," I said slowly, my mind struggling to put my thoughts together into the sentence.  Just how much did the virus change my mind?  "I think I'm Wren now."

There was a pause as Mom took in what I had just revealed to her.  I really just wanted her to put me down already; my old nightgown was dangerously close to slipping off my shoulders entirely, already barely hanging on by the left strap.  I found myself hoping we still had more hand-me-downs from Evelyn than just the pink shorts that used to be Dad.  Maybe William had something that would fit?  Sure, I'd be dressing as a boy, but at least I wouldn't be completely naked until we could buy new clothes for me.

Finally, the painful silence broke.  "Well then, Wren," Mom started, saying the new name slowly as if trying to get used to the feeling of the name in her mouth, "I guess we'd better get you dressed in something smaller than that nightgown.  Wouldn't want it to fall off in front of your brother and sister, would we?"  We giggled in unison at the thought, then she finally set me down on the floor.  My eye level was only around her belly button, if not a bit lower, as she grabbed one of my blankets, wrapping it around my tiny frame just as the strap of my nightgown gave up on preserving my modesty.

Mom walked me out of the room in the makeshift bathrobe, occasionally glancing down at me in amusement as I gazed in awe at the once-familiar house that now seemed like a mansion to me.  We walked straight past Evelyn's room and toward William's, meaning I was going to have to deal with wearing my 4-year-old brother's clothes for a bit.  "Li - Wren, wait out here for a bit, okay sweetie?" Mom asked with a quiet practiced gentleness that an adult generally uses for a small child.  I should have been offended, but it instead felt soothing to my obviously partially regressed mind.

I nodded as Mom entered my little brother's bedroom to borrow a set of clothes for me.  At least, I hoped William was still my little brother at four years old; I still didn't know how old I was.  I didn't have a lisp of any kind when I talked, and William still had trouble pronouncing R's.  Waiting outside the door as Mom put together a temporary outfit, I found myself bouncing impatiently.  I had so much energy, and it was being wasted by just standing and waiting!  But I didn't want to risk the blanket-robe falling off, so I tried my hardest not to move around too much.

A few mind-numbing minutes of waiting later, Mom came back out of William's room with a bundle of clothing.  I saw a green t-shirt, a pair of jean shorts and a belt as I was ushered into the bathroom to change.  "Why aren't we going back to my room?" I asked, confused.

"We need to do something about your hair," Mom replied, "and that might take a while.  I don't really know how to work with hair like yours..."  That made sense.  We were a thoroughly Caucasian family, mostly Norwegian in ancestry, and Mom suddenly had a young African-American daughter with hair more suited to cornrows than curls.

"Mommy, let's just straighten my hair the best we can," I said, wanting to get the inevitable reintroduction over with as soon as possible.  "We can have fun with it some other time, 'kay?"  I craned my neck to look Mom in the eyes.  Just the day before, I had been a couple inches taller than her, and now she was a giant compared to me.  Still, she was a deeply comforting presence to my more childish brain.

"Sounds good, Wrenni," Mom sighed, sounding relieved as she used a new pet name for me.  With that, we entered the bathroom to put together my look for the day.

Everything felt so rough on me.  The t-shirt was loose, and yet a bit too short to cover my belly button, and the fabric was a bit scratchy for my newly sensitive skin.  The shorts had to be held up by the belt, and they reached almost to my knees instead of slightly below like they would on William.  That meant I was a bit older then my still-little brother, but I definitely had a slim gymnast's build, causing everything to still hang loosely around my body.  We wouldn't know exactly how old I was until I was tested at the hospital, which thankfully knew what our family was going through.

My new hair was interesting to deal with, as Mom struggled to force my frizzy locks to bend to her will.  We settled on a ponytail, causing my hair to poof out past the scrunchie holding my uncooperative mane at bay.  Looking in the mirror, it still looked really cute, so we decided that it would be fine for the day.  I slipped my feet into an ill-fitting pair of William's sandals, and we ventured into the living room.

I waited on the couch as Mom woke up Evelyn and William, trying my best to stay as still as I could with the near-infinite energy coursing through my body.  A few minutes of me practically vibrating later, and Mom entered with my siblings in tow.  My still-little brother and now-big sister gawked at me like I was an animal at a zoo.  They were probably expecting to be introduced to me being part of someone's wardrobe, but as I saw Evelyn's mouth slowly widen into an elated grin, I knew I was going to have an amazing second childhood.

Mom walked over to me, resting her hand on my shoulder.  "Evelyn and William," she began, "say hello to your sister, Wren."

The rest of the day consisted of my siblings fighting for my attention, Evelyn wanting to play with my hair and William just happy there was someone else in the house who could keep up with his energy (if anything, I had even more energy than he did).  A call to the lab ended with over ten thousand dollars being wired to us so we could build up a new wardrobe and remodel my bedroom, plus extra 'just because'.  Another call was made to the hospital to set a check-up appointment, and an extra call went out to a hair salon under the cover story of me being recently adopted.

The next day was a massive shopping trip, finally freeing me of my little brother's itchy, unfitting clothes.  The visit to the hair salon would be followed by many more as they taught me and Mom how to properly care for and style my hair, and I walked out of the mall that day with a brand-new wardrobe and my bead-laden cornrows clacking away behind me.

We found out later that week that I was a little over five years old, and I would be signed up for kindergarten that fall.  The idea that I would have to start my schooling from scratch didn't bother me as much as I thought it would, since it meant I could build a new circle of friends who could keep up with me better than my old teen friends could.  Speaking of which, my old friends were filled in on what had happened, and most of them happily offered to babysit me so they could still be part of my life.

Evelyn seemed even happier with my new life than I was.  She tried her best to spoil her new little sister rotten, and I happily accepted the attention without letting it affect me too much.  I played with William a lot too, since he had never been introduced to the idea of 'cooties'.  Tag, hide-and-seek, and other active games filled my days that summer, and I greatly enjoyed the small gymnastics setup that Mom invested in for me to flip and vault through.  We knew I was going to be a handful as I grew up again, but it was clear that Mom wouldn't have it any other way.  She was going to make sure my second childhood was as amazing as possible.

About a year later, and I was preparing for my entrance into first grade.  My ears had been pierced on my new May 2nd birthday, I was excelling in my swimming and gymnastics lessons, and I was overall about the happiest six-year-old girl in the world.  My family was amazing - I was even big enough where I could fit into Dad, who was happy to finally be let outside his drawer - and it didn't seem like anything could interrupt our happiness.

Then Evelyn got sick.  We had almost forgotten about the TF Virus ravaging our family until my big sister started forming rashes, signaling her own transformation.  It was hard to watch the girl I had grown to depend on become so helpless, soon becoming confined to her bed.  One night, her shaky arms embraced me in what would be our last hug as sisters, before she fell asleep to undergo her own change.

We couldn't have known what Evelyn would end up as.  She could have been human, animal, body part, object... We had heard from one of the other affected families that their 3-year-old daughter had woken up as a water stain on her bed, slowly evaporating over time to join the water cycle.  My family and I slept restlessly that night, wondering what the morning would bring...

Halloween Special 2022

 Hey y'all, it's ya girl, definitely not 3 days late with this post

Amalgamation 4/31: Nose Goes

 

A Family Brassiere'd

  Lesson learned:  Don't piss off a witch.  Sure, I didn't know magic was real, and the woman looked completely normal, but when my family and I happened to beat her to the checkout line at our local Wal-Mart, she wasn't exactly pleased.  She tried to cut us in line, but I told her that we got there first, and she would have to wait her turn.  All we had was a new pair of shoes for my daughter Lila, but the rude woman decided that she would be next in line no matter what.  She snapped her fingers, and we all suddenly fell to the floor, motionless.

The now-obviously-a-witch loomed over us like a giantess, the other customers around us completely oblivious to the sudden disappearance of an entire family of four.  I could hear my husband and kids in my mind, Lila in particular crying out for help as the woman's giant hand reached down and grabbed the hangers we all felt ourselves connected to.  We hung from the woman's hand as she took our place in line, all layered on top of each other with my husband Franklin in front.  I had seen the inside of a bright pink bra swing in front of me before covering my vision, and I instinctively knew my teen son, Josiah, was contained within.  Little Lila was the large lavender bra in front of him, and Franklin's new form in front was a royal purple.  Only time would tell what I looked like now, but I could tell I was the smallest of the four.

As the witch made her purchases, our situation finally fully settled in my mind:  My family was just turned into a bunch of bras!  I could feel the price tag pinned through my left strap, the thought of us even having straps to begin with sending a chill through my non-existent spine.  Our captor didn't seem to be interested in us anymore since she didn't scan our tags at the self-checkout, instead setting us to the side in a stack.  Once she was done, she picked us up by the hangers again, sending us swinging with her arm movements.  Franklin said she was headed for Customer Service...

"Can I help you?" I heard from the counter above, the employee sounding like she'd had enough bullshit that day to last a lifetime.

"Yes," the witch replied.  "As I was making my purchase at the self-checkout, I noticed this collection of bras was left behind by someone."  She lied as naturally as if she was actually telling the truth, as nonchalantly as possible when she was holding what were once four living, breathing human beings in her hand.

"Thanks for letting us know.  We'll get these put where they belong right away," the tired employee said, obviously relieved she wasn't being accosted by some bitchy Karen upset that her bag of Doritos had two less chips than normal.  It was hard to feel bad for her though, my family's hangers having been passed into her possession.  We were quickly hung on a rack behind the desk, and Franklin told us the witch was walking away, leaving the four of us to our new fates.  Lila whimpered as we were left in complete stillness, surrounded by returned clothing not too different from us.  I wanted so badly to reach out to her in comfort, but I was just as freaked out as she was.

We hung motionless on the return rack for hours, Lila's rising panic the main sound in our minds.  Josiah didn't seem too worried, but his teenage mind probably figured that if he was a bra, he'd eventually get to touch a woman's boobs.  God, was that really all we were good for now?  Supporting women's chests until we wear out?  A family of four, reduced to a small collection of breast holders...

We were shaken out of our motionless reveries (and Lila's panic) when our hangers were finally grabbed by a worker.  We swung in the employee's grip for a few minutes, Franklin describing the route to the women's intimates area of the store.  One by one, we were hung in separate places with our now fellow bras, hearing each other's voices decreasing in volume slightly as we were separated.  Franklin was hung behind an identical bra that was a size smaller than him, so he wasn't exactly made for the bustiest of women.  Six-year-old Lila ended up in the back of a line of plus-size bras, having been turned into the largest brassiere of us all.  Fifteen-year-old Josiah found himself in the middle of a bunch of sportier-style bras, closer to the front of the line than the back.  Finally, I was carried a bit further away to be hung right in front of some cute teen-style bras, my husband describing the light blue floral lace pattern spread across my cups.

Lila was freaking out, having finally figured out what exactly she was turned into.  Any comfort I tried to give her was rendered moot, so I reluctantly tried to tune her out.  Josiah was actually jealous of Lila, being a lot smaller of a bra than his little sister.  Franklin tried to tell him off, while I simply stared out from my vantage point ignoring them all.  From where I was hung, I could see the rest of my family's locations.  'Great,' I thought to myself, 'I get to watch as the rest of my family is bought by complete strangers.'  With the store closed for the night, we hung in darkness and silence for several hours, Franklin and I taking turns to try to calm Lila down.  Eventually the lights turned back on, and customers started trickling into the store.

Josiah was the first to go.  I watched as the petite Japanese woman searched for her size among my son's light pink twins, finding her match in Josiah.  He seemed oddly pleased with the appearance of what would be his new owner, and he was roughly thrown into a small cart.  As he was rolled away, I listened as his voice got quieter and quieter, eventually losing the mental connection we all shared.  At least his new owner spoke fluent English...

Lila wasn't as lucky.  While she mourned the apparent loss of her big brother, I watched as a Hispanic woman approached the plus size area.  'God, her boobs are massive,' I wondered to myself, observing as she was helped by a Spanish interpreter to find a bra her size.  The busty Latina was led to Lila's area, and her hand immediately reached for the back of the pack where my youngest child was hanging.  Not too pleased by the disturbance, Lila started screaming for me as the customer and employee chatted in rapid Spanish, the words completely foreign to us.  Josiah could have helped, being at least partially knowledgeable in the language, but it was too late for that.  Lila was carried away screaming by the big-chested woman, the shrieking trailing off into silence as my daughter was torn away from me.

Franklin was next, the African-American woman barely even glancing at his tag before tossing him in her cart with her groceries.  His fabric body fell partially between a few food items as his new owner continued shopping, his voice quickly fading away as the dark-skinned beauty took my husband away.

Finally, it was my turn.  It was evening by now, and I started seeing teenagers mulling around the area.  One in particular approached me, her giant hand pulling me off my hook and away from my newfound sister bras.  She turned to her friend, exclaiming about how "totes adorbs" my pattern was.  The blonde girl threw me into her own cart, and I landed upside down on the cold metal.  I sat in the cart staring at the floor moving by underneath, unwillingly eavesdropping on the teenagers' shopping trip.  More items landed on top of me as their two-hour-long retail therapy continued.  Eventually the floor stopped rolling by, and the weight on top of me lessened as items were taken out of the cart.  I was lifted from the bottom, quickly swiped across the scanner, and thrown into a bag with a few other pieces of clothing.  I had been purchased for about $9 by a fourteen-year-old girl, and I reluctantly accepted my fate as my bag was carried out to her older friend's car.

It's been two weeks since I was bought.  My owner, Brittany, has worn me three times in this time, the feeling of her fairly small boobs filling my cups oddly comfortable.  Her body heat pleasantly warmed my fabric, and listening in on the girl's life from beneath her blouse was weirdly nostalgic.  Being stuffed in a mesh bag for laundry day isn't fun, but the washing and drying process is actually kind of like an intense roller coaster.  The peace and quiet of resting in her underwear drawer afterward is nice, too.  I just wish I knew how everyone else was doing...

I probably have it easiest out of the four of us.  I'm a small bra owned by a small-chested teenager who took really good care of her belongings.  Josiah's horny teen boy brain is probably taking a lot of pleasure from his new station in life, wrapped around a gorgeous Japanese woman's boobs.  Franklin shouldn't be doing too badly either, the modest chocolate-colored breasts likely not doing too much to wear out his fabric.  It's not that I don't worry about them; it's just that the three of us weren't dealt that bad a hand, all things considered.

It's Lila that I worry about the most.  She was turned into a frankly massive bra, and the thought of my little girl stretched across that woman's massive boobs, not being able to understand a single word her owner says... I can only imagine how scared and confused she must be.

I try not to think about anyone else too much; I'll probably never hear from any of them again.  Turns out, my teen owner actually lives half a state away, and was just visiting a friend from her old neighborhood for the week.  My family will live separately for as long as our fabric bodies last.  Who knows, maybe Franklin and Josiah will meet up with Lila again once they join her in the landfill.  She's definitely the one whose straps will snap the fastest...

And I'll exist in isolation from them for all eternity.  For now, I'll try to enjoy my time wrapped around Brittany's chest as she lays mostly undressed on her bed, unwinding from a long day at school.  I can feel her lingering excitement from her boyfriend walking her home poking into the inside of my cups, and I can tell she's thinking of the 'toy' her older friend bought her in secret.  I'll be right here to soak up her boob sweat.

Twisted Wishes: Together Forever

  It was a perfectly normal day in mid-October when it happened.  I was hanging out with my girlfriend Lacey after a long day at our community college.  We were walking back to our dorm room when I noticed the lamp almost out of sight behind a tree, the red and black metal standing out against the surrounding greenery.  On a whim, I picked it up so I could have it appraised later.  It looked a bit dirty, so I tried to rub off some of the dirt.  Imagine our surprise and delight when the grey-skinned genie suddenly appeared before our eyes!

"Greetings, young mistresses," the genie began, the term 'mistresses' making the two of us giggle lightly to each other.  "You have done well to find my lamp.  I will grant you one wish."

"Wait, only one?" Lacey asked, confused that we weren't getting three wishes each.

"Yes, one," the genie replied, seemingly mildly annoyed.  "And that's one wish for both of you to make together.  I have been found my many recently, and I have not had the chance to recharge my powers."  To me, it looked like he was making up an excuse, but I wasn't going to question him.  Who knows what he could do to us if we pissed him off.

Lacey and I looked at each other, already knowing what our wish would be.  Our relationship was fairly secret, our respective families not being overly accepting of anything LGBTQ+.  My highly bigoted parents didn't even like the fact that I was friends with someone who wasn't white, so how would they react if they they found out I, their own daughter Scarlet, was dating a girl of Vietnamese descent?  Looking into each other's eyes, Lacey and I made our most heartfelt wish.

"We wish we could be together forever!" we said in perfect unison.  There was absolutely no way THAT wish could be taken the wrong way!

The genie looked thoughtful.  "Hmm... Out of curiosity, what are your names, mistresses?" he asked.

"Uh, Scarlet and Lacey?" I answered, suddenly nervous.  Why would he need to know our names to grant our wish?

He smiled, rather more sinister than I would have liked.  "What gorgeous names.  Makes my job a lot easier, too.  Hope you enjoy your new lives!"  He snapped his fingers, and everything went black.

"You'll certainly be together forever," his voice floated through our minds.  "You might not like what that entails..."

I woke up, but that didn't mean I could see anything.  In fact, it didn't feel like I opened my eyes at all.  Actually, did I even have eyes at all?  Why did my body feel so weird?  And where was Lacey?

'Ugh, what happened?' I heard my girlfriend's voice in my mind.  So we could communicate through telepathy now.  'Where am I?'

'Lacey!  Where are you?' I thought out to her.  'I can't move, and it's dark everywhere.'

'Scarlet!'  I could hear the relief in her voice, although still laced with panic.  'I can't see anything either, and... WHY AM I PARALYZED?!?'

'Would you quiet down Lacey?!  We're talking in our minds, you don't have to shout!'

'Sorry babe...' Lacey replied sincerely, her voice still wavering with fright.  Her anxiety wasn't going to make this easy on her.

'Alright Lace, let's focus,' I said, trying to sound comforting.  'Can you feel anything?  Maybe that'll give us some clues.'

'Umm... I guess there's something soft touching me... is it above or below me... I can't really tell... Fuck, my body feels so weird...'  Interestingly, what she was saying perfectly matched what I was feeling.  It was like we were in the exact same place.

'Okay, I'm feeling the same things, so we must be pretty close to each other,' I told her, knowing that knowledge would probably help her mental state.

'Also, I feel... flat?' she continued.  'Is that what this feeling is?  How would I know what feeling flat is like?  Don't answer that,' she quickly added, knowing full well I liked teasing her about her rather small chest.  Good, she's cracking jokes at least...

'Well, I feel flat too, whatever that means,' I said, just happy Lacey's mood seemed to be improving regardless of whatever potentially horrific situation we were in.

'AHHH!  WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!?' Lacey screamed suddenly, reacting to the thumping noises somewhere near us, getting louder as they approached our location.  Her screaming continued as our location suddenly shifted, and light flooded into our eyes.  'WHY THE FUCKING GIANTESS AND she's kinda hot actually...'  Classic Lacey, freaking out about things before noticing an attractive person.  I couldn't see what she was seeing, but I definitely felt the enormous fingers grab my... leg?  Arm?  Fuck, I couldn't make heads or tails of my body, but the giant fingers lifted me out of what turned out to be an underwear drawer.  How was I small enough to fit inside a drawer, and how was Lacey apparently going through the exact same things I was while seeing a giant attractive woman?

Then my vision swung around, and a lot of things suddenly made more sense.  There she was, a gigantic Hispanic woman holding me by the... uh, appendage... and Lacey complained that her vision wasn't facing the giantess anymore.  It was clear to me now that Lacey and I weren't exactly human anymore, and we were somehow sharing a single form.  Our vision was on opposite sides of whatever we had been turned into, and judging by the thin red straps I saw in my peripheral, I finally figured out what we were.  I geared myself up to reveal the truth to my anxiety-riddled girlfriend turned bodymate.

'Lacey, would you stop screaming for a second?!' I said, perhaps louder than I wanted to as we suddenly sailed through the air, landing softly on a plush blanket on the giantess' bed.  'I figured out what's going on!'  Lacey finally quieted down, her vision likely trapped against the blanket as I watched the woman continue grabbing clothes from her dresser that we were trapped in less than a minute ago.  'The genie granted our wish by turning us into a fucking thong, and we're sharing a body so we'll be together forever.  I think my vision is in the back, and yours is in the front.'  Lacey was quiet, letting the information sink in.  I continued before she could start freaking out again, having witnessed a bra landing near us that would match us perfectly.  'We're a lacey scarlet thong, which is why he asked us our names.  This Hispanic giantess is our owner, and I don't think she's getting dressed for work...'  The only other thing our new owner had retrieved was a black pair of 5 inch heels, muttering something in Spanish I couldn't understand.

Lacey's screaming continued when our Latina goddess' fingers grabbed us by the sides, lifting us from the bed and lowering us toward the floor.  I decided there really wasn't anything I could do to comfort her anymore as one light tan foot stepped through our left leg hole, followed by the right.  We were suddenly rocketed up her smooth, recently shaved legs toward her crotch, and with a tug and a light snap, we were held in place by our owner's hips.  Now plastered against the foreign woman's ass and vagina, I found my vision quickly sinking between her ass cheeks.  Lacey's vision would be coming from the crotch area, so at least she could see more than I could.  Although, feeling the woman's obvious excitement soaking into the crotch panel, I wondered which of us actually had it worse.

My vision expanded a bit as our owner bent slightly to pick up our matching bra, then my sight was eclipsed by the massive tan cheeks once again as she straightened out.  I tried to tune out Lacey's wailing as I felt the giantess go through the motions of strapping the bra to her chest.  Unwilling to tell my girlfriend to shut up, I was allowed a fraction of a second of vision as the Latina stepped into the ridiculous-yet-sexy heels.  With a practiced sway, we were along for the ride as our wearer walked out of the room.  'WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE GOING?!?' Lacey's voice echoed in my head.

'Lacey, I don't know,' I snapped, suddenly silencing her screaming.  'My vision is being rubbed between this woman's ass cheeks, so you know a lot better than I do where we're going!'  I felt bad for snapping at her, but if we were going to be trapped together forever, I was NOT listening to her screaming for all eternity, no matter how much I loved her.  'Try to focus, and tell me what's happening.'

'Umm... we're out of her bedroom...' she started, obviously a lot more timid about talking to me now.  'It's hard to focus when my vision keeps tilting back and forth with every step she takes.  Damn it feels like she has a sexy walk; I just wish I wasn't a fucking scrap of fabric wrapped around her hips so I could - '

'LACEY!' I interrupted.  Even as we were, transformed into a sexy piece of lingerie, my girlfriend was horny as hell.

'Sorry, Scar...' Lacey continued.  'Uh... Looks like we're in a living room?  There's a bunch of decorative signs everywhere, but I think they're all written in Spanish, so I don't know what they say.  Oh, please don't - '  Her commentary was interrupted by our wearer suddenly sitting down on something, probably a couch.  My vision was still stuck in her ass, but I could tell my her motions that she was adopting a pose.  'Uh, Scarlet?  I think she's waiting for someone...'

'Why else would she be wearing us and barely anything else while posed sexily on a couch?' I asked plainly.  On cue, there was a rattling noise that signaled keys being turned in a door, then the squeak of the door being opened.  "¡Dios mío, qué sorpresa más agradable!" I heard a manly voice speak in the distance.  "¿Significa esto que estamos tratando de tener un bebé esta noche?"

'Oh my God, they're straight,' Lacey stated, followed by fake puking noises.  Despite our horrific situation, I found myself laughing at her faux disgust.

"No esta noche," the Latina goddess replied, her voice reverberating through our fragile fabric.  "Ahora."  With that Spanish utterance that neither Lacey nor I could understand, the giantess stood up again, walking toward the man that only Lacey could see.

'No, don't shove my face against his fucking dick!' Lacey shrieked.  'I'm a lesbian!  I don't want anything to do with that thing!!!'  I felt as my backside - our collective front - was pushed against what must have been the man's pants.  The sounds of a Hispanic couple passionately making out reached our non-existent ears, then the woman was slowly pushed toward the couch.  Even larger fingers grabbed our sides, the man beginning to slide us down our owner's legs.  There were quick kicking motions, followed by the thunking noises of the heels landing on the floor.  Fuck, we were just a piece of the massive couple's foreplay, weren't we?

As we were sickeningly peeled away from our wearer's increasingly wet vagina, her juices soaked into the little fabric we were made out of.  I could finally see again, my eyesight having finally been freed from the Latina's ass cheeks, as we quickly slid down her legs.  We landed on the floor with her feet still within us.  That wasn't to last, as she stepped one foot out of our left leg hole, then hooked us on the other foot and sent us flying away.  I figured we were about to land on the floor, but instead, our left leg hole got hooked on the back of our owner's left heel.  Our fabric form settled in its new position, and we were left hanging by a heel while the giant Hispanic couple went at it what seemed like miles away, but was probably closer to a couple feet above us.  Both Lacey and I could see at the same time for once, but thankfully neither of us could see what was happening with the two love-making adults.  We just had to listen to the act from the floor, the woman's bra landing near us and the man's clothing quickly following suit.  Even his tie absolutely dwarfed our thong body...

Lacey was finally calming down now that we weren't in constant motion, although she certainly wasn't thrilled about the sticky fluids slowly drying into our fabric.  Neither was I, but I was choosing to deal with things more silently.  No use complaining about things out loud when my girlfriend/bodymate was the only one who would ever hear me.  Besides, we would have plenty of time to talk and complain.  We DID wish to be together FOREVER, after all.

We ended up hanging on the back of the heel on the floor for the rest of the night, the Hispanic couple having long since retreated to their bedroom for the night, which catches us up to where we are now.  Lacey's still whining about our situation (and the drying vaginal fluid), while I'm trying to get her to be quieter.  I imagine the couple is going at it again in their room, but they're not close enough to us where we can hear them.

Here we hang, in silence and slowly dimming light as the sun sets, nothing but a lacey scarlet thong containing the souls of two college girlfriends fittingly named Lacey and Scarlet.  I guess we'll be thrown in the washing machine tomorrow morning with a bunch of other clothes, then we'll sit in the woman's underwear drawer until she feels frisky enough to wear us again.  If we're lucky, maybe we'll pick up a bit of Spanish before we wear out?  Only time will tell...

Amalgamation 3/31: Window to the Mouth

 

A Regressed Society: A Rewarded Otaku

 

Karmic Justice

 

Unexpectedly Content

 

There once was a time when I would introduce myself by my identity and situation:  "Hi, my name is Esther, I'm 16 years old, and I'm an orphan."  I wasn't exactly an orphan, but I had been adopted by abusive people who only wanted me for the tax deductions they could get.  I refused to call them my parents.

My only friend, Shirley, offered to save me from my situation after I came to school with a broken arm and a black eye.  She had shown me her magical potential before, when she turned a squirrel into a bracelet she tried to give me (I refused because my parents would've taken it away and destroyed it).  The only spell she knew at the time to help me would come with consequences.

Shirley told me the conditions of the spell beforehand.  After it was cast, my soul would be placed inside a random piece of clothing in her family's house.  The chances I would end up belonging to her were astronomically high.  She asked me at least a dozen times if I was okay with this, knowing there were no guarantees or take backs.  I said yes every single time without a second thought.  I couldn't stay with my so-called 'family' until they eventually threw me out onto the streets.  I accepted the possible consequences, and passed out as my only friend cast the spell that changed my life forever.

--------------------------------

Shirley's assumption was solid in theory.  She did, in fact, have the most clothes out of anyone in her family.  I should've ended up somewhere in her wardrobe, whether it was as a blouse, bra, or bobby pin.

Neither of us could've predicted me becoming a bright red polo for her little brother, Alex.  I can only assume what Shirley's going through having lost her best friend, as I don't really see her too often.  She was never going to know what I became anyway.

I stayed there, motionless, on the white plastic hanger supporting my entire weight for two weeks.  The entire time, I dreaded the day Alex would finally wear me.  What would it feel like to have his tiny 7-year-old body giving me form?  I hung in not-so-eager anticipation as he chose shirts other than me to wear to church on those two long Sundays.  Finally, on the third Sunday after Shirley cast her spell trapping me in this fabric body, it happened.  I felt Alex's little fingers roughly pulling me off of my hanger, throwing me carelessly onto his bed.  I watched as he stripped out of his pajamas in front of me, completely unaware he had an unwilling audience.  He put on clean underwear and pulled on a pair of tan khaki shorts.

Finally, with an odd look of disdain, he roughly grabbed me, pulling me over his head, stretching out my neck hole in the process.  He let my body fall around his skinny torso, where I would spend the rest of the day staring out at the world from his chest, where my sight was coming from.  Looking in the mirror, I decided the bright red fabric I had become made him look... adorably handsome?  He proceeded to leave his bedroom to meet his family at the dining room table to eat breakfast, quickly shoving my sight into the bottom of Shirley's blouse as he gave my old friend a fast, reluctant hug after she fixed my collar.  Alex went through his day with me as a little passenger hanging from his shoulders.

You know what?  I loved every second of being worn.  I loved the feeling of his body heat warming me up from the inside.  His actions throughout the day gave me much-needed motion after hanging completely still for so long.  Most of all, I relished in being able to see the world outside his closet again.  Being able to see my old friend's family, albeit from a new perspective.

That night, Alex pulled me back over his head, throwing me on his bedroom floor.  I had to watch him strip down further to get ready for bed as his warmth quickly left my fabric, leaving me to lie cold and lifeless through the night.  The next morning, he carelessly stepped on me on his way to his closet to pick out a normal T-shirt for the day.  I stayed on his floor, being slowly buried by his other dirty clothes, for two whole weeks before his mother finally told him to put them in the laundry basket.  I was roughly thrown into the washing machine with other colored dirty clothes - I recognized one of Shirley's favorite tank tops that I wouldn't have minded becoming - and sat there as it filled with soapy water.  As I was thrown around in the dark, I decided that this crazy roller coaster ride was at least better than being buried in little boys' dirty socks and underwear.  Afterward, even being tumble-dried in the drier wasn't too bad, as it left me feeling clean and, most importantly, warm.  I was finally taken out, sorted into Alex's clothes pile, slipped onto a plastic hanger, and finally hung back up in his closet to await being worn again.

The bad news?  I haven't been worn again since.  I'm easily Alex's least favorite nice shirt to wear.  The only reason he wore me that time was because he was told to.  Time and time again, he picks shirts that aren't me, robbing me of warmth and motion.  Even worse, I have to put up with feeling his actual favorite polo rubbing against my back whenever he picks it to wear most Sundays.

I certainly don't look forward to the day the weather turns, making it too cold for him to wear short-sleeved shirts like myself.  I can't bear the thought of hanging in his closet motionless for so many months in a row as he slowly grows out of me.  He's already picked me as the first shirt he wants to sell.  I probably only have another year at most to be worn by him again before I'm sold at a garage sale to some kid I've never seen before, taking me away from Shirley once and for all.  Just wear me already!

Unorthodox Witch 4 (ending)

 

Unorthodox Witch 3

 

Unorthodox Witch 2

 

Unorthodox Witch 1

 

Twisted Wishes: A Helpful Brother

        I really miss being able to introduce myself.  'Hi!' I would chirp happily.  'My name is Clark, and I'm seven years old!'  I was proud of being a big boy in second grade, and I was sure to make sure everyone knew it.  My big sister, Leah, didn't seem as excited about being seventeen.  She was in her last year of school, but it was starting to look like she would have to stay another year.  Her grades weren't exactly great, and she was really struggling to catch up.  I wanted so badly to help her, but what could I, her 'annoying' seven-year-old brother, do to help a high schooler?  Her math homework looked like gibberish to me, and I wasn't allowed to read some of her science textbooks.

Then I found the genie lamp.

I saw the shiny metal in the bushes one day when I was playing with my friend Steven.  I thought it looked cool, red and black being one of my favorite color combos.  He dared me to rub the lamp like Aladdin did, but neither of us expected an actual genie to pop out!  He ended up offering us one wish each, which would be granted at the same time.

"Okay," Steven started, "I wish to always be the sharpest one in the room!"  He was always dressed really well, something he took a lot of pride in.  Even as we were playing outside, he was wearing a green polo shirt and tan khaki shorts.

The grey-skinned genie looked like he was thinking, then he seemed to figure out how to grant the wish.  "And what about you, little master?" he asked, turning to me.

I thought about it for a few seconds, then thought of Leah.  "I wish I could help my big sister graduate.  I don't care how; I just want to be able to help in some way!"

The genie looked thoughtful again, then smiled to himself.  Suddenly he looked kind of creepy... "Interesting wishes, to say the least.  Very well, both your wishes have been granted!"  Steven and I cheered, and gave each other a high five.  "However," the genie interrupted us, "as I always say..." He snapped his fingers, and the world suddenly went dark.  "...Be careful what you wish for," his voice echoed in my mind.

I never saw Steven again.

'Oof, what happened?' I thought to myself as I woke up.  'Did I really find a genie?  Well, at least I made a good wish.  Leah will be so proud of me!'  I tried to sit up in the darkness to stretch my arms out, when I realized I couldn't actually move.  'Okay, I've heard of this.  Sleep paralysis, I think it was called?  Oh well, I'm sure it'll go away soon.'  I laid there in the dark for a few minutes, waiting for my body to start listening to me again.  It didn't really feel like I was laying flat though; instead, I was leaning against something and bending in the... middle of my body?  Wait a minute, why couldn't I feel my legs?  Or my arms?  In fact, I suddenly realized that absolutely nothing about my body felt right.  I wasn't bending at the hips or knees, instead being bent in a curve somewhere below my middle where I shouldn't have been able to bend.

Plus, why was it so completely dark around me?  Even in my room in the middle of the night during a power outage, there was always some small amount of light letting me see my hand in front of my face.  This was pitch-black, as if I was stuck in a box in the middle of empty space.  Speaking of empty space, I realized I wasn't even breathing!  What was going on?!  My body was completely different, I wasn't breathing, and I couldn't even see anything!  What did that genie do to me?

While my panic was rising, I was suddenly jolted into motion.  It felt almost like I was in a bag or something, and someone had just picked it up.  I felt my body droop lower in my newly-discovered prison, now bent in a different place.  With a bounce, I settled into a new spot in the mysterious container.  I heard a faint muffled voice somewhere in the distance, then a new voice responded, louder than I was expecting.  "I KNOW MOM, I'M LEAVING NOW!" the voice boomed from behind me, sounding annoyed that they had to do... whatever it was they were doing.  My prison started lightly bouncing at a regular pace, almost like my prison was now attached to someone who just started walking.  That voice sure sounded familiar...

'Wait, is that Leah's voice?' I thought to myself as my body constantly shifted outside of my control.  'If her voice is that loud and right behind me, does that mean this prison is her... backpack?'  I slowly realized exactly where I was.  I was paralyzed in an alien body, and I was trapped in my big sister's bookbag.  How was I supposed to help my sister if I couldn't move?  'Maybe I was turned into something?' I thought.  'Maybe I can figure out what I am before she gets to school...'

I took on the challenge as a way to distract myself from the constant bouncing caused by Leah's walking.  It didn't really feel like I had one single body, and I was instead split into a bunch of different pieces.  All but one of them felt pretty similar, with that one different piece being WILDLY different from the others.  Most of all, I felt flat.  It was a weird thing to be sure of, but I certainly didn't have a head, chest or tummy anymore, and I figured out a while ago that I didn't seem to have arms or legs.  With how I kept bending in weird places, I couldn't be anything very hard, so I wasn't a pencil or anything.  I was leaning against something harder than me that felt like a book, and something else on my other side was bending along with me.  Maybe that other thing was another one of whatever I was turned into?

With that, the clues dried up.  I wasn't quite able to figure out what I had turned into, so I was left with the bouncing of my Leah's walking and the feeling of my body constantly rubbing against the two unseen objects I was sandwiched between.  Upset I wasn't able to figure it out by myself, I just waited for my big sister to arrive at the high school.

Turns out, bouncing around in the darkness of your big sister's bookbag is pretty boring.  I only started paying attention to what was going on when I started hearing muffled voices all around me.  'She must be at school now,' I thought to myself.  'Can I get out of here now?'  The muffled voices were interrupted by Leah's booming voice as she apparently talked to her friends before school.  It all sounded like boring girl stuff to me, so the sudden jolt of the bookbag being set somewhere made me pay attention again.  My body slumped against the ground and the objects on either side of me as the ridiculously loud sound of a zipper being undone filled the ears I didn't think I had anymore.  More and more light started being let into my prison, until the front of the bookbag fell open.  Me and the object in front of me slid even further down, and the other thing finally slid part of the way off of my front.

It was still kind of dark, but I could finally see again!  I looked up from my newly-exposed front side at the top of a large metal room.  There was a giant book near me, being the harder object I had been trapped against.  Suddenly, a gigantic human face appeared above me, looking down at me with the most uncaring eyes I had ever seen her with.  'Holy crud, Leah's HUGE!'  I watched as my giant sister reached toward me, her hands disappearing at the sides of my vision.  The textbook and other object were squeezed against me along with a few other things, and I was suddenly rocketing through the air.  With a little bounce, the object I still couldn't quite make out was slid over my front again, blocking out the light and leaving me in darkness.  I felt the stack of books and papers I was now part of get tilted away from the ground, and what must have been a small part of Leah's arms squeezed lightly against my thinner sides.  The loud metallic CLANG of the locker being slammed shut echoed through the hall.  With that, the now-lighter bouncing of her walking returned as she headed to her first class.

I still wasn't totally sure what I was, but I knew I would probably find out soon.  Anytime Leah greeted someone in the hallway, her voice made me and the rest of the stack clutched against her chest vibrate slightly, almost like she was trying to make noise through me as well.  She was gonna have a perfectly normal school day, and I was along for the ride.  I just wish I could see more...

With a light THUD, my stack was suddenly set down on a flat surface.  The sound of high schoolers talking to each other filled the air, and I waited to be exposed to the light again.  'Come on Leah, at least let me know what I turned into!' I thought to my unseen, unhearing and uncaring big sister.  I was getting really annoyed at being sandwiched between a textbook and something else, still not knowing what kind of object was blocking my vision.  The class started, and I was forced to listen to a teacher talking about a bunch of things I didn't understand while I was stuck in darkness.  Seriously, I was supposed to be in my second-grade class at the elementary school, not sitting in on my big sister's twelfth grade English class at the high school across town!

A lot of boring talking later, my stack was picked up again.  More of my sister's walking later, I was set down on a different desk to listen in on another high school class too complicated for me to understand.  Finally, I felt my sister's fingers grab the sides of the object on top of me and lift it away.  I watched as the brown backing of a notebook was removed from my sight, before my sister's fingers came back for me!  I was lifted away from the unseen textbook, and I could see out of the corner of my vision as the notebook was set on top of the textbook instead.  'Does that mean I'm a... notebook?' I thought as I was set on the desk next to the stack I was no longer part of.

Finally, I could see!  I looked up at my gigantic sister, her bored face looming above me like the Moon blocking out the Sun.  She grabbed a pencil and started tapping it against the desk next to me, clearly bored out of her mind as the teacher droned on about math stuff that she seemed to understand about as well as I did.  Leah's hand returned once again, and I was left pretty disturbed as she lifted me a bit and suddenly peeled my face away from the rest of my body.

My vision swung around with the piece of me that was separated from the bulk of my form, until my own light brown back was slammed against my face, leaving me in the dark AGAIN.  'Just when I thought I could get a break...' I thought, annoyed at being forced into the darkness once again.  At the same time though, I finally knew for sure what I was turned into.  I kept bending in weird places in Leah's bookbag because I was made of paper.  The feeling of being in pieces came from having pages with a spiral metal 'spine' holding them together.  Just how many pieces was I split into?  How big was the notebook I was turned into?  What color was my cover?  Having the answer to what I was only opened even more questions.  My... pages... were packed tightly enough that I couldn't tell how many there were.  'Gee, I have pages and a cover now... Please, at least tell me I'm not pink or something...'

My train of thought was interrupted by a weird scratching feeling on my inside.  Every time the scratchy foreign object slid across my unwanted paper surface, I felt like something was being left behind.  I might not have been able to see what was happening, but I could tell Leah was writing in me!  A pencil was being dragged across the surface of one of my pages, leaving behind markings that would stay there unless my sister decided to erase them.  What would THAT feel like, having a piece of rubber rubbed against me to remove those pencil markings?  I also realized that I couldn't really tell what she was writing in me, my vision apparently being locked to my front cover.

Then I realized what my wish had been:  To help Leah improve her grades so she could graduate.  Was I really just a notebook for her to write notes in to study later?  Was that all I meant to the world now?  I sat in the darkness for a while, my 'face' still smashed against my own back cover, trying to think of a single good thing about the new life I found myself in.  After a while, I realized that the motions of the pencil didn't really feel like she was writing anything.  Instead...  'LEAH!  Stop doodling in me!  I'm supposed to help you do better, not distract you even more!'  I might not have wanted to be a notebook, but if that's what I had to be, then I wanted to be used for what I wished for!

Then I heard Leah muttering under her breath, quiet enough that I was probably the only one who could hear her.  "Huh... I think my doodling is helping me focus..."  The constant scratching of the pencil on my first page almost made me miss what she said.  How could doodling help someone focus?  And why did it have to be done in ME?!  Why did I have pages to doodle on to begin with?  Plus, 'Would you please stop doodling and close me so I can see again?' I thought, knowing she couldn't hear me anyway and as such wouldn't do what I wanted her to do.  I was under HER control, and I would be for... How long was I going to be like this?  Won't Mom and Leah realize I'm missing?  Was the genie THAT evil that he would create a missing person's case with no hope of being solved?  And what happened to Steven?  He made a wish too, so was he transformed as well?  He wanted to be 'sharp', so what would he have been turned into?

The pencil stopped scratching against me, and I was suddenly lifted above the desk a bit.  'How long has Leah been drawing on me?' I wondered as my face was finally flipped back to the front, and I could finally see again.  I found out a few seconds later as I was lifted again and stacked on top of the textbook, then left in darkness again as the other notebook was stacked on top of me again.  'Just when I thought I was done with this darkness business...' I thought, rather annoyed at my sister for denying me my vision over and over again.  My stack was lifted from the desk again, and Leah started walking to her next class with me and her other books clutched against her chest.

This cycle continued throughout the day as I was carried around to all of Leah's classes, only being allowed my vision for a few seconds at a time as she kept doodling in me to help herself focus.  She had moved on to the back of my first page by the end of the day, and I had heard some of her classmates telling her how pretty her drawings were.  One of her teachers even told her to keep doodling, saying that she had never seen Leah so attentive in class before.

As I was stuffed into Leah's backpack after the last bell, I was lost in my own thoughts.  Was this really my life now?  Was I really nothing but my big sister's doodling notebook, to be drawn in to help her focus until she filled all of my pages with pencil markings?  I was supposed to be getting on the bus right now to head home with Steven to play Minecraft after school, not hitching a ride in my big sister's backpack as she walked home while sandwiched between a textbook and another notebook!  Why did I ever pick up that stupid lamp?  I wanted to be a growing boy again, not a collection of paper pages and a metal spine!

Much bouncing caused by Leah's walking later, I felt the backpack that served as my prison be chucked somewhere, landing on the floor as my body bent uncomfortably.  A slam of a door later, I realized I had been thrown into the front closet, and I would be left in the dark until Leah got to school again tomorrow.  Why should she care if I was sick of the dark?  I wasn't her little brother anymore; I was just a notebook in her backpack, where I belonged.  A depressing thought, but I figured I should start trying to get used to all this...

-----------

It's the end of my owner's school year now.  Not big sister, owner.  I decided that about a week after I became a notebook, once I realized that I wasn't hearing anyone in the house worrying about me being missing.  Turns out, I never existed in this reality.  Leah was an only child, and the little boy whose name I no longer remember was never born.  I can only assume my friend was never born either, not that I can remember much about him anymore.  It seems like my pages contain my memories, and a few of them have been painfully ripped out over time.  Seeing myself in a mirror anytime I happen to be set next to one used to be depressing, but now I almost find myself feeling a bit of pride seeing my increasingly tattered-looking body.  I've been used as a doodling notebook for nine months, and most of my remaining pages have been filled with whatever designs my owner makes while her ADHD-riddled mind tries to focus on her classes.

I've been left in constant darkness for months; ever since my front cover fell off, I haven't been able to see anything at all.  I know it was a simple light pink piece of cardboard, but it was what I saw out of!  My silent sobbing lasted for a couple weeks after it happened; not that anyone else could hear it, nor would anyone ever hear me again.  At the very least, Leah's grades improved a lot after I became her notebook, and she's well on her way to graduation.  But... then what?

I might be fine with my new life as a totally blind notebook, but I'm afraid of what happens to me after the school year ends.  I've come to love the feeling of my owner's doodling on my pages, and there's a certain level of pride knowing that my 112 remaining pages are mostly filled with her drawings.  What happens to me afterward?  Will she ever draw in me again, or will I be put in a box for the foreseeable future to be pulled out years from now so Leah can look at the mindless doodling she did in her senior year of high school?  Will I be kept at all, or will I just be thrown in the garbage?  I'm not in very good condition, and I have doubts that even the supposedly pretty designs contained within my pages are worth keeping when I'm as tattered as I am.  Maybe my metal spine, bent out of shape over time, will be pulled out of me and my pages and back cover will be thrown in the recycling bin.  Then what happens to me?  Will I feel all of the pages, or will I be confined to one page, or just the back cover, or what?  And once my paper body is made into something else, will I be the whole new thing, or will I just be a small part of it, staying with the bits that used to be me?

I don't know what my future looks like, and that terrifies me to no end.  For now, there's still a few days of my owner's school year left for her to doodle in the leftover space on my remaining pages.  I guess I should just enjoy the time I have left, and not worry about my future as a used, tattered notebook.  It's not like I'll be able to see any of it anyway...

Leah's old, tattered, formerly 120-page college-ruled doodling notebook, signing out.

Twisted Wishes: A Supportive Daughter

  'Gosh darn it, Mom!' I thought to myself.  'At least dry off before you put me back on!'  She obliviously stretched my band around her, clipping me around her massive boobs before caressing my cups with her hands to adjust my fit.

How did I end up like this?  Well, it's a long story.  It all started two years ago when my little sister was born.  Little Pili was quite the handful at the best of times, and it only got worse when my dad left with another woman from his job three months later.  My mom, Amma, had to put so much extra effort into raising me and Pili that she was obviously not handling it very well.  I wanted to help her, but what could I, Kanika the nine-year-old girl, do to help my mom when I was busy with school and clueless about raising a baby?

Two months after Dad left, I was walking home from school when a glimmer in the trees caught my eye.  Curious, I went to see what it was.  It looked like a genie lamp from Aladdin!  I quickly looked around to see if anyone was looking for it, then picked it up and put in in my backpack.  Maybe we could pawn it off for a bit of extra money?  The lamp certainly looked fancy enough to be worth something.

Arriving back home, I passed Mom feeding Pili on the couch on my way to my room.  I gave her a quick greeting, knowing the exhausted mother wouldn't want to be bothered too much.  In my room, I gently placed my backpack on my bed, opening it to retrieve the fancy lamp.  I held it in my hands, and noticing a little smudge on the black metal, tried to rub it clean.

Naturally, I was shocked when the lamp floated out of my hands, and an actual genie came out of it!  I stumbled backward onto my bed in awe at the massive grey-skinned man suddenly floating in the middle of my bedroom.  "Greetings, young mistress," he began.  I guess he was talking about me?  "You have awakened me from my slumber, and I will grant you one wish."

"W-Wait, only one?" I managed to blubber out.  "In most stories, genies give three wishes..."

"Well, only one from me, kid," he stated plainly.  "Just be sure to be careful what you wish for," he added with a sinister grin that I missed at the time.

"Well, that's easy then," I said confidently.  "I wish I could be more supportive for my mother.  She's having such a hard time raising two kids alone right now..."

"Hmm... I think I can help with that," the genie said slowly.  "What would your name be, by the way?"

"Kanika Taylor," I answered, rather confused why he was asking for my name now rather than earlier.

"Well, that makes things easier," he said.  "Less random."  The genie bent down to look me straight in the eye.  Now I was actually kind of scared.  What was he going to do to me?  "Do you know what that name means, little girl?"

"Y-yes?" I stammered.  I had been named for my exceptionally dark skin, taking more after my cheating father in that regard.  Oh no, I made a mistake, didn't I?

The now clearly not-so-nice genie chuckled sinisterly.  "Black cloth," he whispered, then snapped his fingers.  With that, my vision went dark.  'You wanted to be more supportive, didn't you?' the genie's voice echoed in my mind.

I woke up in darkness.  There was a little sliver of light coming in from the top of... wherever I was... but it didn't really let me see anything around me.  In fact, I COULDN'T look around me.  I couldn't move any part of my body!  What was happening?  Where was I?!

Why couldn't I move?  Why did I feel like my body wasn't quite the same as it used to be?  It was a weird feeling, but I felt flimsy in some areas, and a lot tougher in others.  Nothing about my body felt right, but I realized I could figure out what was going on through the clues around me.  I might not have been able to see very much, but I could still feel, smell, hear and taste.  Hearing wasn't helping very much, as my surroundings were eerily silent.  Wherever I was smelled like wood and fabric, and I could kind of taste fabric underneath me.  I could feel the fabric too, being lightly pressed against my entire backside.  That shape felt familiar...

Wait.  I wished to be more supportive for Mom, didn't I?  Uh-oh, did that genie seriously turn me into - 

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and a baby crying.  There was also a certain foul smell that came with the baby.  "There there, Pili," the familiar woman's voice cooed.  "Mama's gonna get you all cleaned up, alright?"  Wow, Mom actually sounded kind of... relaxed?  I listened (and smelled) as Mom changed Pili's diaper on the changing table I knew to be on top of her dresser.  I felt the thumping vibrations through the wood around me, only making it more certain where - and what - I was.

As Mom finished changing Pili, my mind struggled to process my new situation.  Not only did I know exactly where I was, I knew what I looked like as well.  I was trapped in my mother's underwear drawer, and I had been transformed by the evil genie into one of her favorite bras.  Going off of what he said about my name meaning black cloth, I knew Mom only owned one black bra.  A fairly fancy one at that, with lace accents and plastic sequins dotted around the floral pattern and a little black bow placed between the cups.

Now, I was that bra.  That genie seriously turned me, a nine-year-old girl, into my own mother's bra.  Not exactly a small bra either, as my mom was blessed with F-cup breasts.  Breasts that I would now be tasked with holding - supporting - in my unwanted cups with my arms and legs wrapped around her torso as simple fabric straps.  I wanted so badly to scream, to cry out for Mom to help me, but I no longer had a mouth to scream with.  No eyes to cry with, no arms to hug with...

It would be several hours later that I heard Mom come back into the room.  I listened as she cooed at her only remaining daughter, tucking Pili into her crib for the night after changing her diaper again.  Hearing the light shuffling of my mother undressing and changing into what was probably a nightgown, I suddenly heard her muffled footsteps approach my prison.  With a sudden jolt, the drawer I was in was pushed the rest of the way closed, the loud slam ringing in my non-existent ears as I was plunged into total darkness.  Mom's footsteps retreated again, and I soon heard her lightly snoring as she fell asleep.

Meanwhile, trapped in the drawer with the now-fellow bras, I discovered that bras don't sleep.  I was forced to stare blankly in the dark at the wooden top of the dresser I could only guess was about an inch above me, listening to my oddly calm mother sleeping the night away.  

Why didn't she seem bothered by my absence?  Had she just not noticed I was gone?  Or was she actually happy I wasn't around anymore?  I silently sobbed to myself in the dark drawer, still in disbelief at my new existence.

I have no clue how long it was before I was shaken out of my depression by the sound of Pili's crying.  It's kind of hard to keep track of time when you're trapped in complete darkness with nothing but your Mom's faint snoring and your own technically silent crying to keep you company.

I heard my Mom wake up with my little sister, and listened in as Pili's diaper was changed yet again.  Soon after, I heard Mom's footsteps exit the bedroom, probably to drive Pili to her babysitter's house.  Once again, I was left in complete silence and darkness with only my thoughts to keep me company.  Mom still wasn't saying anything about my disappearance...

My best guess is it was around half an hour later when I heard Mom walk back into the room.  Suddenly, I was thrust into the light as the drawer was pulled open.  There she was, looming above me like a giantess.  My own mother... No, not mother anymore.  This woman was now my owner, I realized, as she reached into the drawer, pulling out a black pair of panties with a white lace floral pattern.  Her arm disappeared for a moment, then came back for me, the panties' matching bra.  Her massive fingers wrapped around my left arm - no, strap - and I was lifted away from the unseen bra below me.  With a jerking motion, I was suddenly sailing through the air!  I saw the bedroom fly past my vision, then the bed dominated most of it as I landed roughly-but-lightly face down on the olive green sheet.  It didn't really hurt, but I could absolutely feel the impact of my padded fabric cups on the bed.  I was going to be part of Mom's outfit for the day.

I listened as Mom pulled out other pieces of clothing, unable to see any of it as I was left lightly tangled face-down on the bed.  More shuffling noises followed as she undressed outside my vision, then more footsteps as she headed for her bathroom to shower.  I listened to the running water in fear, knowing full well what was about to happen once the humming woman I was no longer related to was done washing herself.  The light ticking of a nearby clock should have been comforting, finally giving me a way to tell the time.  Instead, it terrified me, sounding more like a countdown to my doom.

Finally, having stopped paying attention to the clock, I heard the shower stop.  The thumping of my mother's footsteps got closer and closer to me, and I heard her drop the towel from her body.  Out of the corner of my vision, I saw her hand grab the panties that matched my own pattern perfectly.  The light sound of the underwear being pulled up her legs followed, ending with a light snap of the waistband against her hips.  At last, to my dismay, it was my turn.  I felt her hand wrap around my left strap, followed by the right, lifting me from the bed.  Hooking my straps over her shoulders, I felt her soft, slightly damp skin rub against my fabric, and my cups - which felt like my face with my vision coming out of the center of each cup - laid gently against her chest.  With two smooth motions, she grabbed the bottom of my cups and tucked my unwanted underwire under her breasts.  I could already feel my padded push-up cups straining against the brown mounds inside me, a strain which quickly spread across my entire form as Mom grabbed my leg-straps to hook them together behind her back.  As the hooks and eyelets - which felt like my former feet - came together, my mother-turned-owner let go of me, leaving me to unwillingly support her massive boobs.  This was so wrong on so many levels...

As the wearer I once called Mom walked bent down to the bed to pick up the next part of her outfit, I felt the F-cup knockers try to pull me off of her chest, my fabric trying its best to hold together against the weight.  My straps painfully twisted and strained, trying to keep the huge jugs contained.   She grabbed the black silk blouse and straightened her body, slamming me the rest of the way against her chest again and lessening the weight on my body.  She lifted the blouse above her head, pulling me and her breasts up with her arms and further straining my straps.  With a quick motion, the smooth silk slid over me, blocking my vision with the solid black fabric and hiding me from view.  Her arms fell to her side, and I felt my mother's movements as she put on the rest of her work outfit.  I couldn't deny that the silk rubbing against my fabric at least felt nice, but I shouldn't BE in this situation!  I shouldn't be forced to hold my overly-stacked mother's breasts in my cups while my straps twisted and stretched with every tiny movement she makes!  I should be headed to school, having my hair put into beaded braids by my Mom and meeting my friends on the bus, not headed to work with my mother while hidden under a silk blouse!

Every step she took was another jiggle or bounce from the boobs I was designed to hold, making sure I never got a single second of peace and stillness as her body heat started warming up my fabric.  The constant jiggling, rubbing and warmth was driving me nuts, but I was along for the ride as Mom finished getting ready for work with her daughter wrapped around her breasts.  She never mentioned my absence, and seemed like she had more energy than she'd had since Dad left.  'Why isn't she worried about me?' I wondered to myself in the warm darkness under Mom's blouse as she drove to work.  The light vibrations of the car set the breasts inside me in constant motion, shaking me out of my thoughts during the drive.  I could only sit in place, listening to the slightly muffled radio spouting out the news of the day as my entire being was stretched across my former mother's constantly jiggling chest.

Finally, three songs and way too much light shaking later, the vibrations of the car died down as it was powered down.  Having arrived at her workplace, Mom exited the car, taking me along with her while I involuntarily tried to restrain her breasts as much as possible.  The constant bouncing of her boobs inside me finally came to a halt as she settled down into her office chair, putting me at rest.

Or so I thought.  With every breath she took, my mother's chest would expand a bit, stretching me out ever so slightly before receding again.  The constant cycle of her breathing, combined with the occasional arm motions of her picking up the phone to take a customer's call and the vibrations from beneath me every time she spoke... I was never truly still, and I didn't have any chances to lose myself in my own thoughts with the constant distractions.  I found myself wishing I could at least see from under Mom's blouse as the day went on.  After a while, I was met with a new sensation.

It was a hot day in early September, and the office's air conditioner must not have been working very well.  The heat of the room combined with Mom's body heat radiating from her breasts, and she began sweating.  The new feeling of my own mother's boob sweat soaking into my fabric combined with the constant movements of her carrying out her basic bodily functions... Even worse, I could taste the sweat slowly soaking into me, making me stick to the giant sacks of flesh instead of simply holding them.  The limited air I had underneath the black blouse started smelling like sweat as well.  Even through all this, the constant movement of my mother's arms and body overwhelmed my senses, the sweat-soaking only being a small part of the torture I was being put through.

Hours later, my mother stood up from her seat, putting her breasts in motion for me to try to restrain again.  As she walked out of her office, I could hear one of her coworkers ask her about her daughter.  That definitely piqued my interest.  They were asking about a daughter instead of two.  It finally dawned on me that the genie might have just erased me from existence.  Is that why Mom wasn't worried about me?  Why she seemed more energetic, less exhausted?  All because I never existed?!  I tried to hold my train of thought, but the constant jiggling of Mom's boobs inside me brought me back to my new reality.  The light vibrations caused by the car, the occasional shake caused by cracks in the road, the sound of the radio muffled through the blouse covering me, the feeling of Mom's sweat slowly drying in my fabric... I barely had a second to just think to myself with the constant barrage of sensations no child should ever have to be put through.

Arriving at home, I felt my mom walking a bit faster than normal, making her breasts wobble more than they had been all day, thus straining my straps even more.  She seemed like she was in a hurry, and I found out why once I heard a door slam shut with a tell-tale echo.  With a strong bounce from her boobs, she quickly sat down on what I already guessed was the toilet.  I was forced to cling to her chest and listen as she relieved herself, the sound of her pee hitting the toilet water almost making me jealous that I would never use the bathroom again.  Her arm brushed against me as she grabbed toilet paper to wipe herself, then stood up with another heavy bounce from her breasts.  She flushed the toilet, then left the bathroom, her boobs jiggling and swaying inside me the entire way.  'Could you at least take your shirt off so I can see?' I thought to myself, knowing all too well that my mother-turned-owner couldn't hear me anyway.

I sat on her chest for the rest of the day.  Another car ride to pick up Pili from her babysitter, some more light movement as she prepared supper for herself... The feeling of the baby that I once called my little sister being cradled next to me as she was given her bottle made me long to be part of the family again.  That longing would last for a very long time, as I knew I would never be myself again.  Never again would I be Kanika Taylor, nine-year-old girl and aspiring gymnast, fighting for African-American representation within a mostly white-dominated sport.  Instead, I would live out my days in my former mother's underwear drawer...

I was literally shaken out of my increasingly depressed thoughts as Mom reached her arms across her chest, grabbing the hem of her blouse and finally, mercifully, pulling it off.  The silk slid across my own fabric as she started undressing, and I found myself facing a full-length mirror.  My vision kept bouncing around as Mom continued taking her clothes off, but I could definitely study the reflection in the meantime.

There was no dark-skinned little girl in the reflection next to my mother.  Instead, there was my Mom's almost naked body, still dressed in her panties and bra.  The bra at my eye level was very pretty, the silver sequins glistening in the light, its cute lace accents resting against the mixed-race woman's boobs.  The band was clearly being stretched beyond what it was meant to hold, and the left strap already had a single thread sticking out of it.  Most horrifying of all was the knowledge that the bra in the mirror was me.  I was no more than my mother's bra, and not even a new one.  I was already showing signs of wear and tear, and it looked like a couple of my sequins had fallen off over time.

Mom's arms then reached behind her back to unclip my feet-turned-hooks, and I watched in the mirror as she finally pulled me away from her massive boobs.  Hanging from her hand by the strap, I saw just how pathetic I looked.  I was nothing but a black F-cup bra hanging limply from its owner's fingers.  I suddenly found myself sailing through the air again, landing in a tangled heap on her bed.  Face up this time, I unwillingly watched my gigantic mother finish undressing, then walk in the nude to her closet to pull out a nightgown.  Putting on her pajamas for the night, she walked toward me again, picking me up by the strap.  'Oh jeez, now what?' I thought, having assumed my torture was over for the day.

Mom walked out of her bedroom, leaving me to swing wildly from her hand.  If I had the ability, I would have thrown up from the motion sickness as my vision bounced violently and randomly with my mother's walking.  By the time the swinging died down, I had been set on a small table in what I recognized as the laundry room.  'That's right, I'm just clothing now,' I thought to myself.  'And now I'm dirty laundry...'

If I thought I was just going to be tossed into the washer, I was sorely mistaken.  Mom approached me again, this time holding a mesh cylinder.  She unzipped the top, then grabbed me.  My body was uncomfortably folded in on itself, then my bundled-up form was stuffed into the mesh bag.  With a quick motion, the top was zipped and closed, leaving the light to filter through.  My new prison was then carelessly tossed somewhere, where I landed on something soft.  I couldn't tell where I was anymore, only being able to see the white fabric of the bag I was trapped in.  My location would be revealed pretty quickly though, as I heard a loud clanging noise that meant the washer lid had been slammed shut.

The light around me suddenly disappeared, and an unholy noise filled the air inside the machine as cold water started pouring in.  Having sweat soak into my fabric was one thing, but to be drowned entirely in cold, soapy water was another thing entirely.  My delicate waterlogged fabric started floating slightly as the washing machine filled with water.  I found myself surprisingly happy that I couldn't see anything anymore as I felt the water begin spinning around, taking my helpless bra body and mesh prison with it.  Around and around I spun, feeling the surprisingly not-so-unpleasant sensation of the sweat and grime of the day being washed out of my threads.  'No, I shouldn't be enjoying any of this!' I scolded myself.  'I'm not supposed to be swirling around in a washing machine; I should be laying in bed right now, all warm and snuggly in my new Encanto pajamas!'

But as the spinning eventually slowed down, my new place in the world was only more obvious as I simply sat there in the middle of a sopping wet ball of newly-washed clothing, still trapped as I was in the mesh delicates bag.  I realized that Mom had probably gone to bed, so I was going to be stuck here in the silent, unmoving darkness for several hours.  So, still thoroughly unable to sleep, I thought to myself about the reality I found myself in.

Mom and Dad were probably still divorced, but my mother now only had one daughter, the now first-born Pili Taylor being her only child.  I, Kanika Taylor, had never been born, so Mom only had one child to raise, leaving her with more time to relax and more money to spend on the remaining girl.  It sure seemed like the family I was no longer a part of was better off without me... I ended up crying to myself with that realization, made even worse by the undeniable fact that no one would ever be able to hear me again.  I was stuck with myself in my own fabric body.  Eventually, I stopped crying to myself, and simply tried to stop thinking at all to avoid making me even more depressed.

I didn't have any real sense of time in the pitch darkness, but it must have been several hours later when I heard the washing machine lid be opened again.  The ball of wet clothing was lifted upward with me stuck in the middle, still left in complete darkness.  With a wet plop, the mass of fabric was dropped into what must have been the dryer, and the metallic clang of another lid being closed rang through my non-existent ears.  More mechanical whirring followed, then my fellow laundry and I started spinning again.  I was blasted with scalding hot air, and I felt the moisture trapped in my threads slowly evaporating.  As my body was dried out, I found myself becoming... comfortable?  I wasn't soaked in soapy water anymore, and the warmth now radiating through and from my body was actually rather pleasant...

I had to remind myself what my situation was.  Under no circumstance should I be enjoying ANYTHING about this!  I was supposed to be a little girl, not a freaking boob holder for my own mom!  Why did I keep finding things to enjoy about being a bra?  The warmth and dryness may have felt nice, but it was just another reminder of what I now was:  A collection of fabric, foam, plastic and metal designed to contain a woman's breasts, and rather large ones at that.  I didn't have a face, or arms and legs anymore; instead, I had padded cups, sequins, straps, hooks and underwire, with a cute little bow that rested in my wearer's cleavage.

The spinning finally died down, and I just sat there for what must have been an hour, lost in my own thoughts.  Eventually the dryer was opened again, and I heard the light shuffling of the other clean laundry being pulled out.  The mesh delicates bag I was in was suddenly grabbed by a massive hand, and I was dropped into what must have been a basket.  I still couldn't see much being trapped inside the white bag, but I felt the gentle swaying of the basket being carried somewhere.

With a thud, the basket I was resting in was dropped on the floor, and I heard Mom slowly putting everything away.  Her light humming as she folded her other clothing was soothing to my increasingly confused mind.  My bag was grabbed once again, and the top was unzipped, revealing my former mother's face looking down at me.  There was no sign of recognition in her eyes, simply seeing a bra she was particularly fond of, with no clue that the black patterned fabric contained the spirit of a daughter she no longer remembered.  My body was gently unfurled back to its full length, and I was carried to my mother's dresser, still staring up at her thoroughly neutral face.  I was set carefully in my new home, my mom's underwear drawer, on top of another bra I couldn't see, and Mom's face disappeared from the rectangle of light left by the drawer being open.  A minute or so later, she reappeared with a navy blue bra in her hands, and my fellow undergarment was set gently on top of me, leaving me in darkness sandwiched between two pieces of clothing not so unlike myself.

A few more minutes went by, and I heard my mother's humming increase in volume as she approached the drawer I was in.  With a sudden jolt, my wooden prison was slammed shut, leaving me in much the same situation as I found myself in when I first woke up as a bra.  This would be the closest thing I would have to a bedroom from now on, only able to sit completely still in the darkness.  Waiting for my turn to be worn again.

It's been almost two years now.  Pili turned two years old a few days ago, and I rode on my former mother's chest the whole day, hidden underneath a fancy blue dress.  I should've turned eleven years old a couple months ago, starting to develop into a young woman.  My first bra fitting, my first period, my first year of middle school... All these things should have taken place over the past two years.  Instead, I do nothing but sit in a dark drawer, being stretched over my mother-turned-owner's massive breasts every few days, then spun around in the washer and dryer before being returned to my home in her underwear drawer.

Mom's still single, and she doesn't seem to have any interest in dating again.  She's chosen to focus on her life as a single mother to Pili, who is growing into quite the little handful of a toddler.  I was right about being erased from existence, my former bedroom having transformed into a simple storage room.  Meanwhile, I find myself with a very different view of my new life.

It was about a month after my twisted wish that I made the decision to get used to my new existence.  Instead of longing to be part of my old family, I accepted that I was no more than a piece of clothing owned by my former mother.  Speaking of which, I would still call her Mom in my mind, but I mostly thought of her as my owner rather than my parent.  Pili was my owner's daughter, not my sister.  I stopped thinking of my form in human terms, instead acknowledging that I now had straps and cups.  Eventually, I learned to pull whatever enjoyment I could from my life as an F-cup push-up bra.  The rides in the washer and dryer are like insane rollercoasters, and I love the pleasant warmth the drying process leaves me with.  I'm taken good care of, and while I still wish I could be a girl again, I've learned to accept myself for what I am.

Unfortunately, I don't know how much longer I'm going to last.  I may be a large bra, but my owner is ridiculously stacked.  Lately, every time I'm worn I can feel a couple more threads in my straps give way, and my underwire is slowly being bent out of shape, as are my hooks and eyelets.  Someday soon, my left strap is going to give out, painfully snapping in two while my former mother wears me for the last time.  More than likely, when that inevitably happens, I'll be chucked in the garbage like the simple trash I'll be, finally tearing me away from my old family, the last reminder I have of my former life and humanity.  I dread the day my fabric is no longer able to contain my owner's boobs, a truly depressing thought coming from what used to be a living, breathing human girl.

For now, I'll just sit here on my owner's chest, annoyed at her carelessly putting me on before drying herself off after her shower.  I can feel the water droplets being absorbed by my cups, and her breasts are going to stick to me for at least an hour.  She running late for work today, so I understand WHY she skimped on drying off; I'm just annoyed that I have to deal with the aftermath.  She tries to blow-dry herself along with her hair, blasting me with hot air in the process.  Finally, once she's decided that she's dry enough, she throws a black dress over me, leaving me in the familiar darkness once again.  As she rushes to work, her boobs bounce around inside me, putting more painful stress on my fraying left strap as I try to contain the massive chest.

Just another day in my life; the life of an aging bra.  All because I wished to be more supportive...