You were lost. All around, the clothes shop was packed. A sea of people jostled against each other, hunting for the best bargains, the collective murmur of the crowd threatening to drown out the tinny Christmas music playing over the store’s speakers. You spun yourself around, trying to find a sign, or a door, or anything you could use to orientate yourself when your eyes settled on the present. It lay, forgotten, on the floor of a changing room. Small, rectangular, and perfectly wrapped in vibrant, red paper it seemed like an oasis of calm in the busy store.

    You stepped into the changing room, glancing down at the present, a white tag standing out against the gleaming paper, decorated with holly and roses.

    TO DAVID

    MERRY CHRISTMAS

    FROM SANTA

    You paused a moment… to David? Was it meant for you…? Surely not, and yet, there was something about the present that seemed to call to you. A quick look behind you: there was no-one behind you, no-one who seemed to be looking for a lost parcel, anyway. What was the harm? Drawing the curtains shut, muffling the noise from outside, you turned back to the parcel, picking it up. It was light, for its size, something hard shifting about inside. Carefully, so you wouldn’t damage to paper, you teased it open, pulling the box inside apart. Inside lay a small candy cane, bold red and white stripes standing out against a bed of green tissue paper. All that box, just for this? 

    For a moment, you considered putting the box back down, leaving it for someone else to find. But then… you were here now, and the candy cane did look sweet, why not take a break for a moment? Giving in, you picked up the sweet, the hard shell perfectly smooth, gleaming in the light, popping the end into your mouth. 

    The taste was so sweet and so wonderful, with the perfect balance of mint, undeniably the best candy cane you’d ever had - maybe would ever have. You sucked gently, rolling it around with your tongue, letting it gently dissolve in your mouth. As you ate, you pulled at the tissue paper in the box, revealing soft cotton fabric beneath, red and white to match the candy cane.

    Still idly sucking the candy cane, now rapidly vanishing in your mouth, you pulled the fabric out. It unrolled from your hands, revealing a single sock. Just one? Glancing in the box, it was empty, save for more tissue paper. Perhaps that was why it had been left behind?

    Chomping down on the last of the candy cane, you didn’t have much chance to think further when a wave of dizziness hit you. Stepping back, leaning against the wall of the changing room, your body felt tired and weak, the sock tumbling from your hand to the floor. Shaking your head, trying to clear the fuzzy feeling, you became dimly aware of the bright glow from your clothes. At once, they began to dissolve into silvery motes, spinning and tumbling around your naked body, bathing you in light. 

    An electric tingle spread through your body, a strangely pleasant feeling of pins and needles across your skin. Your body grew pale and unnaturally white, any imperfections fading. If anything, your body seemed… fuzzy, indistinct, the shape of your body growing softer and smoother. You ran a hand down your body, feeling the soft touch of cotton, a warm feeling of friction as your fingers traced the fibres your skin bad become. 

    You blinked a few times, trying to piece things together, watching in the mirror as vibrant red stripes started to wind their way around your body, drawing your eyes down to the sock still lying at your feet. Realisation dawned, and some part of you might have considered running for help, though even if you could have braved running naked into the store, you weren’t sure you had the energy anymore.

    Slumped against the wall, you noticed a hollow feeling inside your body, the weight of the air around you growing heavier, pressing in. You breath grew short, your insides starting to collapse as organs faded away, turning to air. The sensation of your breathing slowing was strangely calming, comforting… some feeling at the back of your mind reassuring you that everything was fine. A growing tightness spread across your cotton skin, newly-woven fibres growing closer together, pressing what was left of your insides. You could feel yourself flattening against the wall behind you, sliding slowly down the rough paint until something snagged against your back. Cool and hard, it pressed into your body, your skin stretching out around it, fibres growing tight, tugging across your body as you realised you were caught on a coat hook.

    Caught on the hook, your body continued to change, fibres weaving and running through your skin, pulling against your body, reshaping you. Elastic strands tugged at your fingers and toes, pulling at the fabric skin between them, drawing them closer together. You could try to flex your fingers, but your fading muscles could barely spread your fingers apart under the every-tightening fabric, your hands looking little more than mittens. 

    With almost all structure gone, you could feel your body crumpling and collapsing, skin starting to rub together inside you. The sensation was alien, almost alarming, at first. It reminded you of just how hollow you were becoming, a growing need to have something inside you, filling you out. The feeling of rough carpet rubbing against your cotton feet snapped you out of your thoughts, the realisation that your body was drawing up, shrinking into itself. The hook in your back seemed to grow larger, your skin starting to slip off it, tightness shifting down your body. 

    Before you had a chance to think anymore, the changing room seemed to spin around you, a dizzying rush as your head flipping around. Tension quickly released, your body slipping off the hook, tumbling over and over in freefall. You landed gracefully, for a sock, crumpling into the rough weave of the carpet. Your head bounced as it settled, shockwaves carrying through your body, leaving you looking awkwardly at the base of the mirror stretching above you. Just to your side, you could see the box that had started this mess, now looming over you. 

    Your body shifted about, settling into the carpet, and you could feel the now-familiar tugging sensation in your armpits, between your legs, drawing your limbs into your body. Feeling weaker still, you were powerless to stop your legs drawing together, merging into one. You could catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your body barely human anymore, legs merging into each other like a zipper was drawn between them, the shape of your feet sticking awkwardly to the sides giving the effect of a mermaid’s tail. The tightness eased only slightly as your feet finally drew together, the release of elastic tension sending a shockwave up through your cotton skin, the two sides of your body starting to flatten against each other. As your feet finally joined, you could feel something inside folding over, growing slightly thicker, reinforcing the end of your body. Your sock body. By now, there seemed to be very little of your old body left, your arms little more than nubs pulling into your sides.

    Finally, the changes reached your head, your mouth stretching wide over the rest of your body. The sounds of the store grew muffled and indistinct as your ears collapsed into your fabric body, nose flattening against your changing face. Your eyes were next, soon indistinguishable from the rest of the fibres that made up your body, vision distorting as your body folded into the floor, leaving you with a dim view of the carpet. Only your mouth remained, folding over itself, feeling strands of elastic weaving their way around inside you. Until, at last, you crumpled to the floor. 

    You lost track of how long you had been lying there. Minutes? Hours? Eventually, you could make out the sounds of someone calling hello, the clatter of the curtain drawing back, someone stepping into the changing room. You looked about, but all you could see was the reflection of a pair of shiny black shoes in the mirror, a glimpse of bare ankles above them.

    “Socks?” the voice called out… soft, high pitched… a woman? Warm fingers grabbed at what had once been your torso, their touch warm and strangely pleasant as they picked you up, whisking you into the air. Your vision spun around, your body dangling, catching glimpses in the mirror of the young woman holding you. Thoughts stirred in your mind, the idea of being worn by her, feeling her body inside you… they were difficult to make out, indistinct. Although you couldn’t decide if you wanted to be worn or not, you couldn’t deny the curiosity building in you. 

     The feeling of fingers reaching into your mouth snapped you out of your thoughts. She gently rolled up your face, the weave of your body filling your view, snatches of light between the fibres. Her fingers gently tugged at your mouth, stretching it out, at once painful and pleasant, sending shivers through your body. 

    Moments later, you could feel her foot sliding into your body, stretching out what used to be your neck, pushing down deeper inside you. Soft skin slid against yours, the friction warming you, tugging at the stray fibres of your body. Soon, her leg was filling you out, stretching your body around hers, matching her every curve and contour. The sensation of being filled sent pleasant shivers through your body, growing more intense and satisfying as her toes pressed out against the base of your body. Your whole body felt tight against her skin, squeezing against her soft flesh, every fibre of your body straining around her. Fingers ran across your skin, tugging and pulling, setting you smoothly against her, tugging your mouth straight again. 

    Finally, you could see properly again, the sight of her admiring the look of the sock - no, the look of you - hugging her leg, your mouth settled around her leg, gently squeezing her thigh. The warmth of her filled you, the feeling over every slight movement of her muscles, the gentle pulsing of her blood. She set her foot down, pressing you into the carpet, suddenly so conscious of the rough fibres that tugged and pulled at your own with every movement. A moment later, and she’d pulled the other sock on… was that a real sock, or someone else, like you? 

    “Oh, they’re perfect!” she spun around, your vision spinning with her, your fabric skin beneath her twisting into the carpet, tugging and fraying. “I think I’ve got to keep them.” The realisation that you were going to spend the rest of your life as a sock struck you, though even if you wanted to protest, you had no way of speaking, of letting her know you were anything but clothes. 

    A moment later and she lifted you up, your body crumpling and stretching around her knee, fingers grabbing your skin and pulling her away. The sudden movement was electric, static flickering between your fibres, the heat of the rush of skin. Quick movements and you were bundled up, folded over and over into yourself, blind and bundled back into the box. You tried to make sense of what was happening, the steady sway of your box, your body shuffling with it, the beep of a register. A moment of freefall as you fell into her bag amongst the rest of her clothes, just another purchase. 

    Time passed by. Most of it was spent in a draw, warm and cosy, just one of many other socks. You started to long for the moments you were warm and used, her warm body stretching you out, the rise and fall of each step, pressing into her carpet or her shoes, fraying a little more with each step. You grew accustomed to the dizzying sensation and rush of water each time you were washed, the heat and tumble of the drier, before you were carefully folded up, waiting for the next time she wore you. 

    You could tell she adored you for your style, your comfiness, and you knew she only ever saw your as a sock, as clothing, and nothing more… but that was enough.