My name is Wren. It wasn't always Wren, but my son wasn't always named Dion either. In fact, I used to call him Mom. My entire family used to be known by different names, but that changed 14 years ago when my father caught a very unusual virus.
At the time, my name was Lily. I was the oldest of three kids born to my Mom and Dad, Diane and Julian. My little brother and sister, William and Evelyn, were ages 2 and 6 respectively when it happened. We were a nice, happy little family when Dad came home one day saying he was splashed with some weird substance outside the factory he worked at. For the first few days, we thought it was harmless. Eventually he started developing a rash, and he ended up being stuck in bed for a couple days. At that point, we got a call from the factory saying that he might seem... different when we woke up the next day. We had no clue what they meant by that, but we would definitely find out soon.
The next day, we woke up to Mom screaming about something. I carried William to the living room to play, and Evelyn and I went to our parents' room to find out what was wrong. As we got closer, we heard Dad's voice telling Mom to calm down, that everything would be fine. I opened the door, and we saw Mom crying over... a pair of shorts? A little light pink pair of girls' shorts was lying on the bed where Dad would normally be, but Dad himself was nowhere to be seen. Unless...
"Honey, the girls are at the door," Dad's voice said from somewhere. It almost seemed like it was coming from the shorts on the bed. "I think we have some explaining to do."
Mom wiped her eyes of her tears, and nodded. "Come here girls, and I'll tell you everything." Confused, Evelyn and I entered the room and sat on the bed.
What followed was mind-blowing for me and confusing for Evelyn. My own 17-year-old mind was able to handle the information dump a lot better than my 6-year-old sister's. Basically, the liquid that Dad was splashed with infected him with something the factory was calling the Transformation Virus, or TF Virus for short. Based on the results from other accidents around the factory, the infected person would transform completely randomly after about a week. Some turned into other people, some became animals, and several turned into inanimate objects. Dad fell victim to the third category, and he had turned into the little pink shorts laying on the bed behind us.
I looked back at the piece of clothing. That light pink fabric with floral lace patterns where the pockets should be, the little bow on the front of the waistband... That was Dad. He was looking out from the front part of the fabric, completely motionless as his family talked about what had happened to him. I couldn't help but wonder what he was going through right now, reduced to a tiny piece of child's clothing that would perfectly fit his youngest daughter. Then Mom dropped another bombshell that shook me to my core.
"And since he hugged all of us after work that day, before he showered, all of us are infected as well." I looked at her with my mouth wide open. "There's no telling when we'll transform, but it WILL happen eventually. It could take years, or one of us could get sick tomorrow. But we'll get through this, together." She turned to Evelyn, who mostly looked confused. Grabbing Dad's fabric body, she handed him to my little sister. "Try him on Evelyn; we're not forcing him to live in a drawer for the rest of his life."
Dad chimed in, somehow still being able to speak from his unmoving form. "I'd rather be worn by someone I'll fit on than sit in a dark drawer. Maybe it's my mind adapting to my body, but..." He trailed off, clearly realizing that he almost sounded crazy.
"Uh... Okay..." Evelyn mumbled, still confused by what was going on. She grabbed the shorts from Mom, then headed slowly to her bedroom to try on the new clothing.
"Lily?" Mom asked, shaking me out of my reverie as I watched Evelyn carry our father's limp fabric body in her little hand. "How are you handling all this?"
I looked down at my own hands. How long would it be before I didn't have those anymore? If it could happen to Dad, and the rest of us were infected as well... "I just can't believe he's gone. Well, not gone, he's right there and he can talk to us, but we don't really have a Dad anymore because he's just a pair of shorts now and it could happen to any of us at anytime and - "
"Hey, calm down Lil," Mom interrupted my breathless run-on, only for me to burst out crying in her arms. We sat there for a while until Evelyn came back in the room, now clad in the shorts that used to be our father.
"He fits really well! And he's SOOOOOO cute!!!" the little girl squealed excitedly, too innocent and oblivious to realize her mother and big sister weren't as excited about her father's fit as she was.
"Come on girls, lighten up a bit!" Dad's voice came from the shorts wrapped around Evelyn's hips. "I'm still here, aren't I? And the world sure looks different from down here when I'm this small."
I looked at Evelyn with perhaps a bit more disdain than I should have. How could she be so happy about this? Her father was a pair of freaking shorts, and she was WEARING him! "Why are you looking at me like that, Lil?" she asked, her voice now wavering because of my glaring. "You're making me scared..."
"Just... go play with your brother, alright Evelyn?" Mom said gently, trying to keep her younger daughter from crying. "Lily's not feeling well right now."
"Okay!" Evelyn chirped, already recovered from her brief bout of fright. I felt guilty about scaring her, but who could blame me? Our lives would never be the same again, and my own little sister was perfectly content to put Dad over her hips and go to play with little William in the living room, our father staring out from the front of her admittedly cute new shorts. I knew I would be apologizing to her later, but at the moment I just wanted to run to my room, wrap myself in my blankets and cry myself to sleep.
Mom looked at me with a gentle look in her eyes and sighed. "Apologize later; she seems fine for now. Do whatever you need to do." I nodded, still sniffling, and slowly walked to my bedroom to do exactly what I wanted to at that moment.
Once wrapped in my blankets, I felt like a burrito, nice and comfortable as I sobbed uncontrollably. 'Oh God, is that a possibility?' I thought to myself. 'Is turning into a burrito something that could happen to one of us?!' I started crying even louder with that thought. My pillows were becoming soaked with my tears, but the eventual feeling of someone - I didn't care who - rubbing my back finally soothed me enough to fall asleep for a while.
I apologized to Evelyn later that night after I woke up, my makeup still streaked down my face from my crying. We all had a laugh about the state of my face, but for the rest of the night, I found it hard to tear my eyes away from Dad, wrapped around my little sister's hips as he was. He really did fit her perfectly, his fabric stretched lightly across her crotch and bum while fitting snugly around her upper thighs, his hems hanging loosely a few inches down. It was so weird to think about; my dad wasn't a man anymore, not even human. Instead of a head, arms and legs, he now had a waistband and legholes designed to comfortably sit on a little girl's waist and legs. As weird as it was for me to think about, I figured it must be even more bizarre for him, being worn by his youngest daughter. I watched as his fabric wrinkled slightly with every movement Evelyn made with her lower body, her legs making his body conform to her actions.
All in all, he seemed to be taking everything pretty well. Either he was putting on a front to make the rest of us feel better about it, or the transformation actually changed his mind somewhat. He assured us that we weren't contagious anymore, since the contagion wore off as soon as we bathed. For the rest of the night, we tried to ignore our bizarre new situation, and Evelyn was sent off to bed an hour after Mom tucked William in for the night. Mom and I talked about pretty much anything except Dad's transformation and the fact that Evelyn was probably wearing him to bed, until we finally wished each other a good night and headed to bed ourselves.
-------------------
Two years went by with nothing much happening. Evelyn wore Dad about twice a week until she outgrew him. After that, he asked to be put in her dresser drawer so he could still talk to her. His mind was absolutely drastically changed by his transformation into a pair of little girls' shorts; he absolutely loved being worn, and he seemed fine with the constant cycle of wearing, washing, drying and being put away until his fabric was finally being stretched out too much by Evelyn's thighs. He no longer considered us as his family, identifying more with the rest of Evelyn's wardrobe. Instead, he considered his younger daughter to be his owner, not even calling her by her name after a couple months.
Was that going to be our futures as well? We knew our own transformations were going to happen eventually, even little William finding out as he grew older. As Dad's mind further adapted to his new form, we became more and more scared, especially because we had no idea when it would happen. We could turn into anything at any moment, and the anticipation was arguably worse than if we knew exactly when it was going to happen.
We started being connected with other infected families six months after the incident. One family's father ended up as a purse for his wife; another ended up as a evergreen tree sapling that was quickly planted in their front yard. A family that had more than one transformation already had the father turn into a bra for his teenage daughter, and then the daughter turned into a scrunchie that was worn by her 5-year-old sister. We were even told of one case where the entire family had already transformed: The father turned into a female robin released into the wild; the mother ended up as a single metal screw used to put together a neighbor girl's dresser; the teenage son turned into a little girls' bike that was then owned by his 11-year-old brother turned 7-year-old girl; and the 4-year-old daughter was the last to transform, horrifyingly ending up as a single chocolate bar that was soon eaten by the girl who used to be her brother after literally begging to be eaten. The mental effects of the transformations were extremely powerful, making the people-turned-objects crave being used for their new purpose. We could really turn into anything, and there was nothing we could do to stop it from happening.
So imagine our panic when, a few days after William's fourth birthday, I started developing a very familiar rash. I cried uncontrollably for the first day, then calmed down after accepting that my own transformation was going to happen no matter what. Even William seemed sad about it, having learned that his own transformation would come someday. I even talked to Dad about it, with him assuring me that no matter what happened, everything would be fine. I went to school one last day that Thursday, saying what would likely be my last goodbyes to my friends before I transformed. The next day, I felt so sick that I was confined to my bed like Dad was just two days before he woke up as a pair of shorts.
I knew I only had a couple days as myself, so I took my last few selfies for my family and friends to remember me by. The platinum blonde 17-year-old girl captured by my phone camera would cease to exist by Sunday morning. As Friday passed and I had my last few meals on Saturday, I resigned myself to my fate. Whatever would happen, I knew I would somehow be happy in my new existence. I fell asleep for what I thought would be the last time, and the TF Virus took me in the middle of the night.
To Be Continued...
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