TF Virus Part 6 (ending)

  It was the morning after our wedding that I heard Mom's voice pipe up again.  As I was waking up after a night with my new husband, her voice echoed in my mind.

"It's time.  See you in nine months, Mom!"

I shared the news with Kato as soon as he woke up from our... rather active night.  He was elated that he was going to be a father so soon, and I shared in his excitement for a very different reason.  In some way, I would finally see my birth mother again.

As the months went by, Mom remained mostly silent.  I went through a very normal pregnancy as my mother-turned-offspring grew within me.  Through it all, Kato was the perfect gentleman, always willing to provide whatever I needed at the moment.  I couldn't help but wonder what Mom's experience was like, having a completely new body develop from scratch.

Six months passed, and the ultrasound gave me a picture of my soon-to-be son.  Yes, it turned out that the woman who raised me (the first time) was going to be reborn as a boy.  What would THAT be like, growing up as the opposite gender?  I supposed she would adapt quickly, thanks to the mental effects of the Virus.

Finally, the time came.  My water broke during a fancy dinner with Kato, and I was rushed to the hospital.  It was a long, arduous night of labor, but it was all worth it when I laid my eyes on my baby boy.  They asked what his name would be, and I knew the answer immediately.

"Dion," I answered while holding the tiny newborn to my chest.  In that moment, I resolved to be the best mother I could possibly be.  It was the least I could do for the boy who was once my own mother.

The days with Dion in the maternity ward were the longest of my life.  He had been born with trouble breathing, so they were monitoring him closely.  I didn't sleep well due to my constant worrying, but Kato did his best to keep me as happy as possible.  It turned out that Dion had mild asthma, so while he would need to be watched closely, we were sent home with basic supplies and educational material.

I showed Dion around the house, knowing full well he was asleep for most of the tour.  As I fed him afterward, I looked at the little infant suckling from my breast in wonder.  How was this boy my former mother?  I knew it was her in control of that tiny body, looking through those deep brown eyes.

--------

Months went by, then years, and I watched as my mother-turned-son grew from a tiny infant into the boy he is today.  Dion learned to walk, then run.  Once he learned to talk, it became obvious he was growing into a perfectly normal boy, even if he was a fair bit more intelligent than other children his age.  He was energetic and rambunctious, but never a trouble maker.  He made friends quickly in daycare, and he just started preschool a month ago.  I couldn't more proud of my little man.

It's turning out to be a chilly beginning to October, but that's not going to stop me from bringing Dion to the park.  His rescue inhaler is in my purse just in case, but he never seems to be concerned.  He knows that if he starts having an attack, I'll be right there to help in seconds.

Dion came running to me, holding his right hand in the other.  "Mama, I think I hurt my finger," he said, not even close to being in tears the way many other children would be.  It was amazing how his decades of maturity would show itself from time to time, and this was one of those times.

Sure enough, there was a small cut on his index finger.  I knelt down to his level, pulling a bandage out from my purse.  I carefully wrapped it around Dion's finger, then gave it a little kiss for good measure.  My son's giggling was infectious, and soon enough he was being spun around in my arms while his laughter rang throughout the park.

Dion can't wait to start kindergarten next year, and with my recent positive pregnancy test, he's also looking forward to being a big brother.  Kato's hoping for a girl this time, and Dion and I can't agree more.  With the last TF Virus victim finally transforming - an older man turned into a little girls' skirt, now owned by his 6-year-old granddaughter - we all look to the future in excited anticipation.  After all, there's nowhere to go but up.

This has been Wren, age 26, soon-to-be proud mother of two, signing out.

A Familial Outfit 1

 

TF Virus 5

  Continued from Part 4

I had fallen asleep the night before in Mom's warm, comforting embrace.  As I woke up the next morning, I found myself alone in bed, some level of residual body heat still lingering in the blankets next to me.  I tried digging through the covers to find her newly transformed body, until I was interrupted by a voice in my head.

"You're not gonna find me there, Wren," Mom's voice rang out.  "There's a reason I wanted to sleep next to you before my transformation."

"Where are you, Mama?" I cried out, not understanding what she meant, or why her voice was in my head instead of emanating from the object she had turned into.  Her answer sent chills through my whole body.

"I'm inside you."

I froze.  She was... inside me?  What was she?  How did that even happen?  "I... don't understand..." I said slowly.

"I turned into one of your eggs.  That's why I had to be near you, or else I wouldn't have had a host."

"One of my -" I began, but Mom interrupted me again.

"You've been an amazing daughter, Wrenni.  I can't wait to see you again, as my new mother.  Until then, I'll be right here with you.  Always."  With that, she fell silent.

I broke down right there and then.  My mother was trapped as an immature egg cell inside my developing ovaries, and she didn't seem to be planning on piping up until her eventually reborn self learned to talk.  What was that like, being stuck in complete darkness and completely dwarfed by every other unseen thing around you?  Why did I have to be the lucky one to stay human?

It was Amara that came in to comfort me, having heard me sobbing from her and Makenna's bedroom.  I looked up at her after she sat down on my bed, and we didn't need any words.  Our shared hug spoke for us.

---------

As time went on, I learned to accept everything that had happened.  The last few TF Virus victims went through their transformations, some of them ending up under my new family's care.  A man-turned-clock was hung on one of Alaiya's walls, a set of teenage twins lived in Mama-kenna's sock drawer, and a former mother of 3 girls was my first ever training bra.

It was two years after Mom's transformation that Dad and Evelyn finally got fed up with living in a drawer.  They were finally donated to a local store set up for Virus victims, ending up with new owners who would actually let them fulfill their purpose.  Dad seems to have been bought by an out-of-towner, but I still see Evelyn from time to time, wrapped tightly around a little girl's torso as she splashes around in the local pool.  I recently saw a different girl wearing her, and she's probably been through several different owners as each one outgrows her.

As for me?  I grew into my new life quite well.  My two new Moms were amazing to be raised by, always showering me with love and affection as if I was their biological daughter.  Even Alaiya, being our house, has enjoyed watching and sheltering us through the years, and we love the idea that our house is an active member of our family.

I had my first period a few weeks after my 11th birthday, just after getting Ellen the training bra.  It dawned on me that my former mother could technically be lost this way, but she finally made her presence known by reassuring me that she was still there after each cycle.  She still refused to say anything any other time, but it was honestly better for my mental health if I could mostly forget that she was there, still resting deep inside my reproductive system.

I started showing real interest in boys around age 12, and had my first boyfriend by the time I turned 14.  That relationship didn't last very long, but by virtue of being a gymnast and cheerleader, I always had someone vying for my attention.  It wasn't until my first year of college that I met Kato.  It was his eyes that drew me in, and we were married two years later.

Where does that leave Mom?  Well...

Forced to Watch (anonymous request)

  As the stupid tourists pull out their cameras, my mother calls my siblings to pose.  She turns toward the gawkers, leaving me mostly out of the picture behind her back.  Little do the white people know, but they're actually taking a picture of two families at once.

My family and I were once one of those gawking American families, coming on tour to visit the Himba people of Namibia.  A middle-aged couple with 4 kids, ranging from age 7 to 17.  I was the oldest of those kids, 17-year-old Cassian, tasked with watching over my little brother Finn.  He thought he could take care of himself, but he was only 11, so I still had to act as his babysitter.  My sisters, Daphne and Alice, were paired together as well, and they seemed a lot more interested in the tribe.  Cassian seemed to only be interested in one thing, being the bare female chests all around him.  I don't think Mom and Dad thought long enough about bringing the pubescent boy on the trip, but there he was anyway.

The women of the tribe seemed annoyed at us being there, especially with Finn refusing to look a single one of them in the eye.  The tour guides joined my parents and me in trying to tell him off, but one of the Himba women finally snapped.  Even the tour guide seemed to be confused as to what she was saying, but she shouted at us rapidly in what must not have been her native language, then threw some kind of powder at me.

My body suddenly froze in place.  It was like time around me completely stopped, and I could feel my body beginning to warp itself into a new form.  The woman and her older daughter went around the now-frozen encampment, finding the rest of my motionless family and throwing the same powder at them.  As I watched the world grow around me, I realized they were casting spells on us.  My body began compacting itself into a much smaller version of itself as the mother walked back over to me.

She began talking to me in her native language, but I could somehow understand what she was saying, as if her words were being translated into English in my mind.  "We've had enough of your staring, looking at us like pieces of meat.  You seemed decent enough though, so you get to transform first and then watch your family.  You're getting off easy, but I can't say the same for the others."

With that, she watched my transformation with great interest.  I continued shrinking, and I noticed my skin getting darker and darker as the seconds went by.  She grabbed my wrist to hold my hand in front of my face, and I watched my now dark brown fingers get shorter and thicker.  It was obviously a small child's hand now, and the woman towering over me made me realize that the rest of me probably matched by now.  I was still getting smaller, and I felt my muscles weaken to the point where I probably couldn't walk anymore.  My clothing evaporated into dust, which coated my tiny body and added a slight reddish hue to my new skin.  A black bracelet appeared around my right wrist, and a piece of rope wrapped itself around my right ankle.  A sharp pain between my legs as my changes came to an end made me suddenly realize exactly what my future entailed.

"Ah, my adorable little baby girl!" she cooed in her language, still being translated in my mind.  "You don't get to be unfrozen yet though.  It's time for your family to find their new futures!"  I watched through my changed, unmoving eyes as she walked over to Finn's frozen form.  A little more powder was thrown his way, and his transformation started.

His body began shrinking, while also slimming at an alarming pace.  Finn was becoming significantly thinner than any human should ever be, and as his skin gained a metallic sheen I realized I was lucky to end up as a baby Himba girl.  His ever-shrinking body started bending around itself, forming a simple ring of metal.  The former 11-year-old boy's form settled into its new shape, and the woman picked him up and slid him over her arm, coming to a rest around her upper arm as the simple metal armband he had become.  What was she planning for the rest of my family?

I watched as the woman's older daughter - my new big sister, I guess? - approached my father, Silas.  The girl looked to be 9 or 10, utterly dwarfed by the 40-year-old man frozen in front of her.  That wouldn't last after she blew more powder onto him, jumpstarting his own transformation.  He began shrinking, like his two sons before him, but unlike Finn, he remained humanoid.  Not human though, as his skin gained a straw-like texture and began separating into threads.  Much of his shrinking body turned into tightly-wound rope, shaped into a vaguely human form.  His hair grew out and turned into similarly wound rope dyed a different color, forming what looked like braids hanging from his head.  His clothing shrank into a simple cloth skirt around his waist, and his arms exploded into feathered blue threads attached to his shoulders.  Facial features disappeared entirely, and the girl finally picked up her new doll that used to be my father.

Next, the woman and her daughter approached Mom and Daphne respectively, the powder starting their transformations at the same time.  It became obvious the 40-year-old woman and 14-year-old girl were experiencing similar transformations.  Their arms and legs thinned out into string and combined to form loops.  Daphne's remaining body split into two portions attached to the limb-band, shrinking and simplifying into simple blue cloth.  The Himba girl partially disrobed and slipped into the new skirt my sister turned into.

Mom's transformation was a bit more complex, her body splitting into three cloth portions instead of two.  Two of the three turned a faded black color, but the third wrapped all the way around her waistband and gained a floral pattern across its dark grey fabric.  She was slid onto the woman's waist, falling in place around her hips.

Last but not least, the woman - my new mother, I suppose - approached Alice.  What was the 7-year-old thinking at that moment, having watched her entire family transform before her eyes?  I knew I would never find out, as one last blast of powder jumpstarted her transformation.  She shrank more than anyone else, her arms raising straight up and her body bending backwards to make her hands and feet meet.  They melted together, making her body one continuous loop.  Still shrinking, she formed three stripes that wrapped all the way around her, the outer two turning black while the middle turned a bright blue color.  Her flesh and blood gave way to simple rubber, and she finished her transformation as a tiny wristband.  The woman reached down to pick her up, and walked back over to me with my little sister clutched in her hand.  With a simple motion, Alice was slipped onto my own tiny wrist.

With a quick chant from the woman, the world around me unfroze, and I found myself finally able move.  Not that I could do much; being turned into a baby girl had removed a lot of my fine motor control, so I was stuck on my back.  Any words I tried to utter came out in infantile babbles and gurgles, so I did the only thing I could think of to vocalize my frustration.  I let loose my crying as my unwanted new mother picked me up, cradling me in her arms.  I heard her say something in her language, but her words weren't being translated in my mind anymore.  Ignoring her foreign cooing, I wept for myself, for my family, for our former lives and our horrific futures.

---------

I'm not sure how long it's been since our transformations.  It's hard to keep track of time when I have to sleep so often, my body putting most of my energy into growing.  I've had to endure breastfeeding, unintelligible baby talk, being held by my new older siblings, specifically NOT being bathed in any way, and being carried around in a primitive baby holder behind my new mother's back.  Knowing that I'll eventually grow into a woman not too dissimilar from her is a daunting thought that I try not to dwell on, but deep down I know I'm lucky.  I'll grow up, learn to walk, learn the language, and earn my independence years from now.  Sure, I'll end up marrying a man from the tribe and carry and give birth to several children, but I have it a lot better than the rest of my old family.

Mom and Daphne hang around their owner's hips more often than not, only occasionally removed when their fabric gets too dirty for even their unbathing wearers.  Finn stays wrapped around New Mother's arm, only ever adjusted and never removed.  Dad's form is showing wear and tear from his owner's playing, but he should still have a few years of use in him.  Alice, wrapped around my wrist as she is, is getting tight.  It'll probably only be a month or two, if that, before she's removed from my wrist for the first and last time, to be passed down to some other newborn in the tribe.

I really do wish I knew what exactly they were going through, but I'll have to settle for watching them being used by my new family.  They aren't treated like anything more than their new forms, their humanity long forgotten by their owners.  I'll have to settle for growing into the best little Himba girl I can be.  I may not understand the language yet, but at least I know my new name is Anele?  Every little advancement is greatly appreciated, and I almost can't wait until I'm allowed to wear a skirt.

Hopefully that skirt won't be some other transformed tourist...

TF Virus 4

  Continued from Part 3

It took Mom and I several long minutes to find William's new form the next morning.  He kept calling out to us to give hints, but he was so small that his point of view just wasn't helpful to us.  "I think I'm in my shirt, so just shake me out!" he finally piped up, getting annoyed at the giants not being able to find him.  Mom finally lifted the empty t-shirt, still slightly warm from being worn by a living, breathing human child a few hours before, and we watched in silent horror as a single piece of elbow macaroni rolled out of the bottom.  there was no way he randomly hid a piece of pasta in his shirt the night before, so...

"Is that you, William?" I nervously asked after a long, uncomfortable silence.  "You just... can't be a piece of - "

"Put me in the box."  The boy's voice suddenly interrupted me, saying the most inconceivable sentence Mom and I could've imagined as matter-of-factly as if he was telling us the sky was blue.  Why would William want to be thrown into a box, and what box was he talking about?  He couldn't mean - 

"We're not gonna do that, Willie," Mom stated flatly.  "You're my son, not a piece of food."

"Look at me, Mom," William said from his tiny form.  "I think you're more than a little wrong about that.  Put me in the box with the other macaroni."

Oh, THAT'S what he meant?!  I suddenly felt a lurching in my stomach.  "Mama, I think I'm gonna be sick..."  I dashed to the bathroom as quickly as I could, leaving Mom to try to reason with my little brother while I vacated my stomach of the previous night's meal.  Not even bothering to clean up after myself, I found myself curled up on the bathroom floor.

I was vaguely aware of Mom walking by twice, once in each direction.  I thought I heard Dad and Evelyn's voices at some point, but I barely cared.  My loving, caring little brother who was taller than me was reduced to a noodle, and I wasn't taking the news very well.  My tears had formed a small puddle on the bathroom floor by the time Mom came in to check on me.

Dad and Evelyn had helped William convince Mom to do what he wanted.  They knew that transformed objects mostly wanted to be used for their form's purpose, and transformed food was no different.  William had somehow figured out what he was going to turn into beforehand, and had prepared himself for what that would entail.  He wanted to be added to the rest of the elbow macaroni, after which he would stop talking at all.  He didn't want us to know when 'it' happened.  The combined efforts of a pair of shorts, a swimsuit and a noodle ended in Mom bowing to her former son's wishes.  When Mom entered the bathroom to check on me afterward, she held me in her arms as she brought me to the living room, where we stayed for most of the rest of the day in near silence.

With William silent in a box of macaroni, the house became quiet.  The next few days were spent checking me in with a pediatric therapist who knew about the Virus, and Mom seeing a therapist herself.  We met more Virus victims in the meantime, discovering that others were starting to "just know" what they were going to turn into beforehand, just like William.

This new development had proven especially useful for one 4-year-old girl and her family, since she knew she was about to turn into an entire house.  They let the city know about it the day before she was due to transform, and they set up a vacant lot for little Alaiya to become a brand new house.  An African-American lesbian couple moved in a few days later, the former little girl becoming a home.

A month later, Mom decided it was time.  Around suppertime, I walked into the kitchen just in time to see her pouring our elbow macaroni into a pot of boiling water.  I immediately knew what that meant.  What was William feeling in that moment, tumbling with the other identical pieces of pasta into the scalding liquid?  Feeling his body slowly soak up the water and soften while being stirred around in the seemingly gigantic pot?  He was still staying silent while he was being cooked, so I tried to put his inevitable fate out of my mind for the time being, and went back to my room to play with my dolls.

I paused to consider one in particular, a Barbie made to look Japanese that used to be a 13-year-old boy.  He had been passed on to me after his little sister transformed into an earthworm, and he was another Virus victim who chose to remain silent.  Was this really the future for these unlucky transformees?  To be used for their new purpose, willingly denying their own former humanity?  I had really gotten lucky with my transformation, only reducing in age and changing race.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by Mom yelling for me.  "Wren, supper's ready!" she called, and I set down the sentient doll to run out to the dining room.

I considered the meal set out before me.  Mom had made goulash, and I was fully aware that William was in there somewhere.  What was that like?  Being coated in tomato sauce and mixed in with cooked hamburger and chopped tomatoes, then scooped up into a ladle and dropped onto a plate?  I sat at the table, still unsure how I felt about the situation.  William was still quiet, and I realized he was probably planning on staying that way.

Mom was studying my reactions, and finally said something.  "Please eat, Wren," she said simply, knowing that I hadn't been eating well lately due to my now officially diagnosed depression.  Wanting to get it over with, I put my thoughts of my former brother out of my mind, and slowly ate the well-made goulash in front of me.

William never made a single noise.

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

Another year went by.  We never found out which one of us had eaten the noodle that was once William, and we didn't particularly want to know.  His nutrients had been absorbed and used by one of us, and the rest of his form would exist in the sewer for the foreseeable future.  Meanwhile, life moved on.

Remember the couple I mentioned earlier?  It was decided that I should spend time around them, in preparation for my mother's inevitable transformation.  It was highly unlikely she would still be able to look after me, so the couple was fully willing and prepared to adopt me.  As it turned out, I loved spending time with them.  They taught me more about my new culture, and we quickly bonded over it.  Eventually I came to refer to them as bonus mothers, not fully realizing how soon that would come true.

She never told me exactly what she was going to turn into; only that she definitely knew.  As she succumbed to the virus that summer, the legal process for Amara and Makenna to adopt me was finalized, and I became their daughter.  The night my former mother was due to transform, it was strongly suggested that she share a bed with me.  I wouldn't know why until the next morning, but for the time being, I was just glad to spend one last night with the last remaining member of my old family.

A Sporty Family

An anonymous request
 

Twisted Wishes: Immersed In Girlhood

  "¿Estás lista para el viaje de campamento, bragas?" comes the squeaky voice of Felicia, the little girl wearing me.  I don't know what she's saying, but I know she has to be talking to me based on the Spanish word 'bragas' always coming up when she addresses me directly.  Sure, my name used to be Brad, but that name is a foreign concept to my 6-year-old owner, despite the fact that she was once my own mother.

That genie really pulled a fast one on us.  After we found the red and black lamp gathering dust in the attic, he popped out while I was trying to clean it off.  He offered me and Mom one wish each, with the chance to specify what those wishes would entail.  Mom wanted to be young again, ideally from a new perspective, while I wanted to be closer to her.  I had just turned 17, and our relationship had been slowly drifting apart for years.  We simply didn't have much in common, the interests of a 17-year-old boy and 45-year-old woman worlds apart.

One of us got exactly what we wanted, as Mom transformed from 45-year-old Belle into 6-year-old Felicia, finding herself taking residence with a small family in a small town in Mexico.  She didn't speak a word of English, instead being fluent in her newly native Spanish.  I still wish that linguistic knowledge had passed onto me as well, as it would make my new existence at least a little more bearable.

Having woken up in darkness, I could feel heat radiating from beneath me - or was it inside me?  There was some kind of fabric surrounding me from all angles, blocking me from the outside world.

"¡Oh, Dios mío, me convertí en una niña pequeña!" came a little girl's voice from above me in rapid Spanish.  "¿Y estoy hablando español?  ¡Debo ser mexicana ahora!  No puedo esperar para conocer a mi nueva familia.  ¡Esto es tan emocionante!"  I felt movement from inside and out as the world around me started bouncing.  What was going on?  "Y si lo que pienso es correcto..."  Suddenly, the fabric surrounding me was pulled away, allowing light to stream in.  I could now see that the fabric was, in fact, the crotch area of a lime green pair of girls' leggings.  My vision was locked straight forward, which immediately told me exactly what I had turned into.  "¡Debes haberte convertido en mis bragas!  ¡Qué bonito color rosa resultaste ser tú también!  Ojalá recordara cuál era tu nombre...  Oh, bueno, Supongo que tu nombre es 'bragas' ahora."  With that matter-of-fact-sounding statement, the leggings were unceremoniously let go of, snapping back against the girl's waist and blocking out my vision again.  What was she saying?  Who was she?  And please tell me that the panties I had obviously turned into weren't pink...

The rest of the day was a blur of darkness, motion and rapid Spanish that I couldn't understand.  The girl's sweat started soaking into my fabric as she played around outside on the hot summer day, and I tried to occupy my mind with anything other than the fact I was wrapped around a small girl's waist, keeping her privates hidden and protected while my back stretched across her buttocks.  Not only that, but I was wondering what happened to my mother.  She had made a wish as well, right?  She wanted to be younger, with a new perspective -

Oh.  What was the probability that the little Hispanic girl wearing me, chatting with other kids her age in rapid undecipherable Spanish, was actually my Mom?  It suddenly seemed guaranteed, seeing as I wished to be closer to her without specifying what I meant.  At least it made me feel SLIGHTLY less creepy about my new position.  Not by much, though.

Hours later, the girl that used to be my mother entered a cooler area, probably having come back inside her new home after a long day playing outside with her new peers.  Her movement didn't seem to slow down for a while, but I got to experience the discomfort of being sat on as she ate supper.  Having my backside sandwiched between the hard surface of the dining room chair and the admittedly soft bottom of my wearer wasn't pleasant, but at least I was mostly at rest.  Mostly, because the girl seemed rather restless, so she kept fidgeting in her seat, disturbing my fabric with every little movement she made.

More hours of constant movement later, the leggings covering me were finally slipped off.  The girl started walking, introducing me to the action while I could actually see.  The room around me was almost painfully pink, clearly belonging to an incredibly girly child.  Most importantly, she came to a rest in front of a full-body mirror attached to her closet door.

My owner and wearer was a Hispanic child no older than 6, her dark brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail to combat the summer heat.  I saw the lime green leggings laying on the floor behind her, leaving her clad in a white tank top, as well as her underwear.  Sure enough, at my eye level, wrapped tightly around the little girl's waist, was a bright pink pair of panties that happened to contain the consciousness of a 17-year-old white kid from Idaho.  I looked positively tiny, even compared to the tiny girl who I would now have to consider to be my owner.

"Pues bragas, lo siento si tu día no fue tan divertido como el mío," the girl said while looking down at her underwear.  There was that 'bragas' word again.  That must mean panties, meaning the Spanish word for my new form was embarrassingly similar to my old name.  "¡Creo que es hora de una reintroducción!  Mi nombre es Felicia, ya partir de ahora seré tu dueña.  Por lo menos hasta que me haga demasiado grande para ti.  Sé que solías ser mi hijo, pero probablemente no debería tratarte de manera diferente a otras bragas en mi cajón.  ¡Disfruta de la noche debajo de mi camisón, bragas!"

As she left the mirror behind after her one-sided conversation that I couldn't understand, I tried to come to terms with what little information I was able to discern from her words.  I definitely heard the name Felicia, so I finally knew my owner's name.  She clearly knew I was there, since she seemed to be talking directly to me, but she certainly didn't know I couldn't understand her.  Lastly, it seemed like she had no intention of treating me any differently from any other pair of panties, as the loose fabric of a white nightgown fell in front of my vision.  Much of the light disappeared with the click of a switch, and the girl who I once called Mom tucked herself into bed, leaving me in the darkness under her blanket for the rest of the night.

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

It's been a few weeks now since I started my existence as a pair of Felicia's panties.  Her home was the house owned by her parents, who showered their daughter with love and praise, all in a language I couldn't understand.  Mom's new life sure seems to make her happy, having received a brand new start to a brand new life.

I wish I could be happy for her, but she's forgotten to wipe after peeing a couple too many times for me to feel anything other than resentment toward her.  Why does she get a fantastic new home and family while I get to deal with her urine, sweat and farts in between dizzying, suffocating rides through the washer and dryer?  I now have to call a little girl's underwear drawer my home, no different from the other colorful-but-lifeless pieces of fabric that I share the drawer with.  I constantly feel like I'm invading Felicia's privacy, despite the fact that I'm fulfilling the very purpose my new form was designed for.

Even as Felicia cheerfully brushes her teeth above me, having not gotten dressed for the day just yet, I absolutely can't share in her otherwise infectious joy.  I won't know what she's getting ready for until it's already happening, but at least I'll be able to see something.  She laid out a light pink sundress after putting me on this morning without setting out a pair of shorts to cover me.  I can feel the oppressive heat around me, even being inside the house, so it must be hot enough outside that the air conditioning can't quite keep up, so she must be forgoing the shorts so she can keep as cool as possible.  Great, more sweat...

Felicia starts speaking to me again while I'm forced to stare at the bathroom cupboard door.  "¡No puedo esperar para acampar durante la semana, bragas!  Lo siento, vas a gastar la mayor parte dentro de una bolsa de lavandería..  Quiero decir, ahí es donde van las bragas sucias.  ¡Nos vemos la próxima semana, supongo!"  Still don't know what she's talking about, but I saw a suitcase in her room on the way to the bathroom, and she sure seems excited about something...

English translations:

"Ready for the camping trip, panties?"

-------

"Oh my gosh, I turned into a little girl!"

"And am I speaking Spanish?  I must be Mexican now!  I can't wait to meet my new family.  This is so exciting!"

"And if what I think is correct..."

"You must have become my panties! What a pretty pink color you turned out to be too! I wish I remembered what your name was... Oh well, I guess your name is 'panties' now."

"Well panties, I'm sorry if your day wasn't as fun as mine."

""I think it's time for a reintroduction!  My name is Felicia, and from now on I will be your owner.  At least until I get too big for you.  I know you used to be my son, but I probably shouldn't treat you any different than other panties in my drawer.  Enjoy the night under my nightgown, panties!"

-------

"Can't wait to camp out for the week, panties! Sorry, you're going to spend most of it inside a laundry bag. I mean, that's where the dirty panties go. See you next week I guess!"

TF Virus 3

 

Continued from Part 2

Evelyn should have been getting ready for school pictures that day, a proud 6th grader entering the big middle school for her first time.  Instead, her family gathered around her bedroom door, waiting for the bed-ridden girl to wake up and reveal her new life to the world.  If she was lucky, she could have ended up like me - still human, possibly even still a girl - but we all knew that I had gotten extremely lucky.  80% of the TF Virus victims had ended up inanimate like Dad, and chances were that Evelyn would fare no better.

After about an hour of being huddled around my big sister's door, we finally heard Evelyn's voice.  "Come in."  It was quiet, the once energetic girl now sounding timid and scared.  She had been the pillar that helped me adapt to my own transformation, and now she sounded helpless.  With a nod from Mom, I took the initiative to open the door.  Evelyn had chosen to sleep without her blankets the night before, just in case it would make it easier for us to find her.  Her decision proved useful as her fate became clear to us.  

Laying neatly on top of my sister's purple bedsheet was a swimsuit.  The green and blue leaf patterns spread across its fabric, along with the bright orange lining almost out of view, contrasted against the sheet below.  It looked like it would fit me perfectly, with a little bit of stretch for growth as I aged, although probably only for less than a year.  Contained within the nylon and spandex of that swimsuit was the consciousness of Evelyn, my little-turned-big sister.  She was staying oddly quiet given her circumstances as Mom, William and I gathered in a circle around her.  I had slipped into the cute pink shorts that used to be my father for the occasion as well, so the whole family was there.

"Evelyn, honey?" Mom asked, her voice shaking in an attempt to not burst out in tears at the sight of the swimsuit that used to be her daughter.  "Do you know what happened to you?"

"Yes, mom," Evelyn's voice rang out from the swimsuit, suddenly almost sounding annoyed.  "I know that I'm a swimsuit.  Am I at least small enough to fit Wren?"  Her question was incredibly direct, like it was the only thing she was truly worried about.  Was this what the virus' mental effects could do to someone younger than me or Dad?  Just how much of the old Evelyn was even left in those nylon fibers?

Mom seemed relieved that Evelyn was handling her transformation well.  The girl wasn't sobbing, or screaming in frustration or anger, or anything like that.  "Well, we'll just have to find out, won't we?"  Was she seriously - "Wren, go in the bathroom and try her on."  William and I looked at her incredulously, then she started, "One..."

I quickly grabbed Evelyn by the shoulder strap, whispering a quick "Sorry..." as I went just in case I hurt her with my panic-induced roughness.  Scampering through the halls, I entered the bathroom and closed the door behind me.

"Just get it over with," Evelyn said, sounding a bit more gentle now.  "I'm not your sister anymore, I'm your swimsuit.  The sooner you accept that, the better you'll feel about wearing me."

"But, I..." I stammered, still unsure about the situation.

"You're wearing Dad right now, right Wrenni?" she said.  "How will wearing me be any different?"

"She's right, Wren," Dad piped up from his position wrapped around my hips.  "As transformed clothing, we only really want to be used for our purpose, which is being worn by our owner.  You wouldn't want to make Evelyn feel sad, would you?"

It took about ten minutes before I finally caved in, eventually walking back to Evelyn's now-former bedroom with my sister wrapped tightly around my torso.  Her straps clung to my shoulders, the green and blue of her fabric contrasting pleasantly with my dark brown skin, with her lower portion wrapped comfortingly around my pelvic region.  Even Dad would never be in direct contact like Evelyn, something he took great comfort in as he laid on the bathroom floor, having been left behind with my thankfully non-transformed tank top and underwear.

"She fits you so well, Wrenni!" Mom cried out, and I could practically feel Evelyn's pride swelling within her threads.  "We should go to the pool so you can try her out!  Would you be okay with that, Evelyn?"  She must have decided to leave my opinion out of that decision, seeing as I was already uncomfortable with the idea of wearing my own sister as a swimsuit, let alone actually swimming in her.  I had gotten lucky with my own human transformation, so I couldn't imagine what having your entire body waterlogged would feel like, not to mention having every little movement controlled by the person wearing you.  It was something Dad was undoubtedly familiar with, having been the cute pair of pink shorts for a few years, but Evelyn had just transformed the previous night.

"Sounds good to me," Evelyn replied from my torso.  "If I'm gonna be a swimsuit, I want to start getting used to it as soon as possible."  How was she handling her transformation so well?  She seemed so calm, so comfortable with being a piece of clothing instead of a human.  Would I have felt the same if I had been less lucky and ended up as an object as well?

Any complaints I had were ignored, and I soon found myself in the changing room of our local pool.  I was still wearing Evelyn as a base layer, with Dad and a lavender t-shirt covering her for the trip.  They were staying quiet, and I had been ordered by Mom not to talk to them in public, or even treat them as anything more than the pieces of clothing they appeared to be.

Stripping out of the outer layer of clothing, the shirt and Dad-shorts were folded neatly and placed into a bag, and they were placed with my sandals in a basket with my name on it.  They were then placed in a locker by a worker, and I was forced to leave my former father in the hands of a complete stranger as I walked with Mom out to the pool, meeting William in his trunks next to the water.

William grabbed my hand, his pale white skin contrasting with my own dark brown.  Looking down at our intertwined hands, , I marveled at the fact that I used to be his teenage biological sister.  Now he was a couple inches taller than me, even though he was a year younger, and my little brother's presence was a comfort to me.  "Want to get this over with, sis?" he asked gently, gesturing to the water.  I looked down at my own body, clad tightly in the forest-print swimsuit that used to be my sister.  Was she as nervous as I was?  Swimming was something I enjoyed doing, but I was worried about Evelyn's experience.  She would be completely soaked in chlorinated water and totally submerged, all while being at the whim of her wearer's movements.

I finally looked back up to William.  He had been lucky thus far, still being his old self and free of transformation.  I knew that luck would have to run out eventually; he had been infected with the TF Virus as well, and it was only a matter of time before my younger-but-larger brother succumbed to his inevitable fate.  For now, he was doing his best to help me have fun in the summer heat, despite the bizarre circumstances that led to me wearing my own sister.  Letting go of my reservations, I returned his smile.  "We jump in three..." I started.

"Two," William continued, his smile growing into a wide grin.  "One!"  And with that, we jumped in unison, plunging into the pool.  Just three siblings having fun.

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

The memory of that day is still rich in my mind years later.  As it turned out, it would be less than a year before William started forming rashes.  He was pulled out of school at the beginning of spring, and he would slowly lose his energy over the course of two weeks.  The sight of the caring little brother - who had five inches on me by now thanks to a rabid growth spurt - laying helpless and mostly motionless in his bed was hard on me.  His transformation would likely leave me as an only child, to be raised by a single mother who was due her own transformation at some point.

By now, there weren't many non-transformed victims left.  As transformed clothing was outgrown by their wearers, they commonly found themselves being sold at yard sales or donated to charities and consignment shops.  Those who turned into food had long since been consumed, animals released into the wild, and newly-made orphans adopted by new families with no clue who they used to be.  There was even one case of a pair of twin girls who got sick at the same time and somehow combined into a pair of boys' shorts, owned (and later sold) by an 8-year-old boy who used to be their pet cat - the only known non-human victim of the virus.

Mom and I shared a bed that night, while the outgrown forms of Dad and Evelyn rested folded in their respective drawers.  We could never have predicted what would become of William, but as he fell asleep in his bed for what would likely be the last time, Mom and I resolved to help him accept his transformation, no matter what.