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.

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...