Ruben realized with a start that he had settled into the comfortable nothingness that was clothing’s life, and he shook himself free, forcing himself back to the present. Cayla was tossing her bag among others, taking her place a little past the finish line.
Their city wasn’t a large one, and so for convenience, parades were usually run in a loop. Ruben figured the same thing applied to marathons. On the bright side, that meant that Cayla’s house wouldn’t be too far away, so once the race ended, it would be a short walk home—less than an hour. At least, that was assuming the car ride really was a few minutes, and Ruben hadn’t lost himself completely for a moment.
Ruben did his best to clear his mind of such depressing thoughts. He had to keep his mind on the present, focus on the race at hand. He wasn’t sure what he could do, but he could at least keep his mind off of being attracted to Cayla.
Not that she wasn’t attractive, but he was in this mess for a reason... Unfortunately, fate had a cruel sense of humor, and as if she was trying to undermine his efforts, Cayla began to stretch.
Cayla tensed all of her muscles, stretching Ruben out as she dropped into a sprinter’s crouch. Ruben felt his face mashed against her pussy, the back of his head forced around her rear. For a moment all was still. Ruben did his best to fight the losing battle of trying to remain in control. Every second that passed, he felt himself slip more and more, starting to enjoy Cayla’s body. Then, a gunshot broke the still of the race.
With that, Cayla was off.
The pounding was the most unpleasant thing—a sensation of himself being slapped against the ground time and time again. And of this unpleasantness stemmed from the fact that Cayla was a runner. Funny how such a desirable trait could have such an unpleasant effect—though Ruben supposed most runners didn’t have to know what their clothing was experiencing.
That said, there’s nothing the human mind can’t fetishize, and Ruben found himself focusing more on the sweet relief of being airborne, as opposed to the merciless slapping of shoe on pavement.
Thump, thump, thump... Each step was too hard to ignore, too soft to have something to complain about. Of course, that didn't keep Ruben from wishing that he was somewhere else, maybe at a nice, cool beach somewhere... Once more his thoughts drifted to being with Cayla.
She'd run her hands along his form; he'd taste the salty spray of the ocean, mixing with the tang of her sweat... The view would be amazing, and the company even better. Of course, there was the matter of the itchy sand getting all over him, but Ruben was sure Cayla would do her best to make sure he was well-washed and clean, maybe even sitting on some soft linens to make up for it...
Cayla's footsteps brought him back to the present, a world of discomfort and tiredness. It was just like he had been running, a weary, bone-deep ache setting into his arches and soles. This was a little natural, though--if he was really supplying her with energy, which had to come from somewhere.
It wasn't entirely uncomfortable, feeling Cayla's muscles rippling beneath his fabric was oddly pleasant. Ruben hadn't paid much attention in his old health classes—though nobody ever did—and so feeling her calves and thighs work together like this was an enlightening experience. Perhaps the fact that she was a runner lent itself to the fluidity which could only be described as 'natural grace'. It was an economy of motion, no muscle movement wasted with each of Cayla's strides.
And though he couldn't feel her chest hiking, Ruben could feel her heartbeat, sensing how the run was starting to get to her. Ruben watched the pavement speeding along, using it to gauge how fast Cayla was going.
Then, he chided himself for being an idiot—he could still see! He was more than capable of seeing how far he had traveled. The second the thought passed through his mind, Ruben looked up, starting lustfully at Cayla's softly bouncing breasts. Her every stride sent faint ripples through her flesh, and Ruben found himself thanking God for the miracle that was underboob.
That odd feeling of inanimate arousal swept across Ruben's body again, and he felt his aches and pains washing away. Then, Cayla started speeding up, a surprised look on her face. Ruben put two and two together, how his arousal made her heart race earlier... The man-turned-tights snorted inwardly with laughter as he realized that somehow his lust was powering her.
The intention was fairly obvious—Renata no doubt wanted to be the one to wear him, to have all of his thoughts occupied by her creamy, soft legs. And in return, he’d give her a little more energy as she charged him up more and more.
However, giving him to Cayla had caused that plan to magnificently backfire, his thoughts instead occupied with Renata's sister. Ruben would be sure to apologize to her for this latest infidelity—though he didn't have much of a choice in it.
That irony was rich indeed—Renata had essentially forced Ruben to cheat on her. Well, if clothing could cheat on someone... He could always do his best to not feel aroused, but in that case, Cayla might not win the race. She definitely wouldn't get the boost of Ruben's arousal, so he decided to err on the side of caution and let himself descend further into lust.
Ruben did his best to think of Cayla's trimmed pussy, to see her hair brushing against him, taste more of her crotch. With a start, he realized his vision had changed to just that, no longer watching the outside of Cayla's body, but rather focusing instead on her groin. That was news indeed—it looked like he could change his focus with just a thought. But why would he want to? This was incredible, watching her moist lips run against him with her every footfall, feeling her sweat on his fabric.
Unlike the sweat staining Ruben's feet and legs, this was almost sweeter, and while its aroma wasn't pleasant, it was far from repulsive. Ruben found himself able to enjoy this latest bouquet--though he had always fancied himself a romantic like that.
And on the note of romance, Ruben would need one hell of a good gesture to get back in Renata's good graces. Not that he'd mind being worn by her, but something told him that she'd more than enjoy changing him back to being a person... It was easier to cuddle with a person, after all. Plus, Renata apparently being a witch? Kind of a turn-on, if Ruben was to be completely honest with himself.
The thought that she could become anything for him, and he could become anything for her was more than a little bit enticing, and already Ruben had more than a few ideas what would more than make up for his lapse in judgment.
And what a fortunate lapse it was! Ruben settled back into Cayla, starting to enjoy the feeling of being trampled. Absorbing all of Cayla's sweat was a little bit kinky, even if it did both taste and smell a little bit on the questionable side. Plus, hugging her with his entire body, being treated--viewed of as only an object!
Ruben was always more of a dom than a sub, but he could definitely see the appeal in the other side now. The lack of identity stirred something in Ruben, despite the tiny fear of being changed forever. But Renata would make sure that didn't happen. Even if she wanted to break up with him, Renata was a really caring person—she'd at least change him back first. But that little tingle of encouragement she’d somehow sent implied she still wanted to be his girlfriend.
That small comfort was one that Ruben quickly logged in his mind, doing his best to make sure to save it for later whenever he started to get sick of his current condition. Speaking of, it looked like hope was instilling just as much spirit in Cayla as lust was, so Ruben tried a little of both, picturing himself fucking Renata once all this was said and done.
Maybe he could convince her to change him into a set of vibrating panties, so he could be with her like this for an entire day, pleasuring his girlfriend as often as she saw fit. Or perhaps a vibrator, letting Renata shove his whole body in her beautiful pussy. And all of that was without even considering the possibility of becoming human again, of holding her in his arms as he thrust in and out of her lithe body.
Or maybe Cayla would enjoy that... Better yet, maybe she’d be willing to finger fuck herself while wearing Ruben, her digits pulling and stretching at his fabric as she mercilessly railed herself. Her sweat and cum would intermingle, staining his body, getting deep inside the fibers... Maybe he’d even be able to fuel her, keep her pleasing herself for far longer than she’d normally be able to, reaching orgasm after orgasm, her muscles spasming beneath his tight—
Ruben cleared his thoughts, a guilty heat settling into his mind. Even though it was hard to think of Renata when Cayla was so close, Ruben shouldn’t have been that easily distracted. After all, it’s not like his face was buried in her pussy or anything...
No sooner had he thought that than his perspective changed, Cayla’s sweaty groin being thrust to the forefront of Ruben’s vision, her pubic hair tickling his face with her every step. Ruben wildly tried to will himself anywhere else, but this sight was too grand to pull away from.
He focused more on enjoying this sensation, picturing the warmth of her body as he fucked her, how she would be hot and sticky and... Ruben tensed inwardly as he realized that he actually was feeling hot, his whole body was sticky and... damp!
It was like having just come in from a long jog, ironically enough. Ruben’s entire body felt gross, wet to his core and even clammy. Ruben grunted with disgust—he was soaked through and there was no way of drying himself off. For the first time, Ruben started to feel the disadvantages of being worn.
And his discomforts grew at an almost exponential rate. First, he realized that he could still feel the sensation of his feet slapping into the ground—yet this time, he could feel the sweat squishing between Cayla’s feet and her shoes. He could hear it, too—a sound not entirely dissimilar to running through muck. But worst of all, he could smell it.
Ruben was trapped, smelling her stinky feet, her sneakers trapping in the odor like some sort of demented oven. Ruben had been to a sauna once before, and he didn’t enjoy how hot, muggy, and malodorous the entire situation was. And this was just as bad as that, if not worse!
Thankfully, the finish line was almost in sight, and Ruben sagged with relief as Cayla crossed the line, breaking the tape with a broad grin on her face. Reporters jogged up to her, and she smiled kindly, waving them off as she panted slightly with exertion.
“Sorry, my family’s expecting me home after this... I don’t think they expected me to win.” Cayla smiled sheepishly, placing her hands on her knees as she continued to catch her breath.
One reporter, a squirrely man with glasses, shoved himself to the front of the line. “At least tell us your secret!”
Cayla flushed with embarrassment. “It’s a little silly, but... My sister lent me this lucky pair of tights.”
Ruben scowled inwardly at that. Yeah, ‘lucky’. To be fair, unintentional magic use was probably like unintentional steroid use... Plus who would believe she had a pair of lusty leggings powering her spectacular run?
“Hm, you know... I might just end up keeping you.” Cayla muttered, stroking her thighs gently.
Ruben started in shock—she couldn’t mean that, could she? There was no way that this wasn’t the end of his punishment, he had to have some escape! But as Cayla tugged off her shoes, slipping on a pair of jeans, he knew deep down that he was lost.
The next few hours were a flurry of activity, and while they admittedly weren’t unpleasant—being snuggled between Cayla’s skin and her jeans was like cuddling under a blanket—they were tense and rife with fear. Her leggings were just a bit above her midriff, so Ruben could catch glimpses of Cayla’s destination—a shopping mall? Then she pulled up her jeans a little, and Ruben found himself in the dark, cut off from the world.
Again, hell and heaven came in equal parts—he could taste her sweat all the same, bitter and acrid. But he could also taste her leaking pussy—apparently whatever Cayla was doing was exciting her quite a bit. Walking was discomforting, though not nearly as bad as running—similar to how a rough massage could be compared to a bar fight.
It was, all in all, completely even—save for one thing: Ruben’s helplessness. He could only explore his senses, feeling Cayla’s muscles work, hugging her body desperately. Through the confines of her jeans, he could make out some sort of trendy pop music. Could it be that she was in a clothing store? Why?
Ruben begged for some way, any way to let Cayla know that she was wearing a person—but of course she didn’t notice. She thought of him as clothing—worse, she might be thinking of him as her favorite pair of leggings.
“Hi!” Cayla’s voice came in muffled, but distinct—and Ruben held on with baited breath. “Do you guys carry any dye?” Ruben’e heart sank, and he didn’t even bother to try and listen to the clerk’s response. So, that was her game—and it looked like a good one, too. If she made him indistinguishable from her other leggings... Damn it, Renata, why did she have to make him white?
Cayla started walking a second later, though there was more of a skip in her step. That couldn’t be good. Sure enough, when she stopped, she hummed a happy note with joy. “Oh, this color is perfect!” She ran her hands along her jeans, and Ruben knew that she was petting him through the denim.
It didn’t help, much like how petting a dog at the vet’s did little to ease its nerves. Instead, Ruben spent the rest of her trip in stunned shock, too numb to feel pleasure or pain. Was this how his life would end? He’d be treated just like an object, with nobody knowing who he was.
Eventually his parents would come looking for him—but what would that yield? At best, they’d give up after a few months; and at worst... They’d blame Renata in some way, and If she got arrested he’d have absolutely no way of changing back.
Ruben turned his attention to the present as Cayla started to touch him again, her hands pressing just above her groin. There was a faint pressure; then a release as she undid her jeans, letting light back into Ruben’s world.
He changed his focus as often as he could, looking at the room around him. It really wasn’t good—he was in the Cardina’s basement, right in front of their laundry machines. Worse, there was a shopping bag atop the dryer, with a small bottle of something pink on it.
Then, Cayla hooked her thumbs under Ruben’s waistband. She slipped Ruben off of her legs, and he was torn between blessing her for escaping her feet and damning her for what she had planned. It wasn’t like when she put him on, she was tugging at him uncomfortably, her thumbs stretching him so that he slipped off of her without too many troubles.
Of course—that left him inside-out, and Ruben’s mind struggled to right itself, processing how he was feeling his outsides rub up against each other like his lining had mere moments before. Mercifully, Cayla kept her hold on his waist, whipping him through the air to get her leggings back the right way.
This was terrifying, feeling his body fluttering up; then being whipped down. It was like going on some demented amusement park ride, only with the added sensation of feeling your body slip along itself, fabric skin rustling against fabric skin. Up and down, he’d be sent skyward, then whipped downward—until finally Cayla seemed satisfied with him.
She pulled him up to her nose, taking a small drag of his scent. A second later, she wrinkled her nose. “Ew, I guess I’m not that fresh after a run...” No shit, Cayla. Ruben glared bitterly at her through her crotchline, his ire giving way to surprise as she tossed him into the washer.
One second he was loose in her hands. The next he was balled-up and airborne, flying into the metal washer with a soft thud that nonetheless ran through his entire body. A packet of something landed atop Ruben, and he studied it, finding it was a gel dye pack.
“Let’s see...” Cayla’s voice echoed through the washer, and she leaned over it, looking in. “Put packet and desired clothing in the machine, then...” She looked up, her hands turning the knob. “Change it to hot and let run for a full cycle with no detergent or bleach.”
Ruben mentally screamed at her, begging her to have mercy, to realize who he was. But once more, she heard nothing, and the door fell atop his prison with a loud clang, practically deafening him. For a moment, all was still and silent in the washer—leaving Ruben to cry inwardly, glad he was balled up so he could essentially hug himself in fear.
Then, a loud clunk ran through the machine, and a loud hissing sound filled the air. No, not hissing—rushing, like running water. Ruben found himself growing damp, then wet, then soaked. He’d expected it to be like being in a hot tub, and in a way it was. His new body didn’t care too much about how heated the water was—simply that it was being warmed.
But the similarities ended there. Water seeped into his every thread, and Ruben found himself loosening up, drifting helplessly in the fluid like some sort of fabric seaweed. But, he was still too heavy to truly rise—Cayla’s sweat having weighted him down. The packet atop him was lost quickly, floating up with the rising water, and Ruben found his legs drifting a little upward, some of the sweat dissolving into the water.
Then, another loud clunk came from the machine, and the motor in its center started to spin, whirring in a slow circle. Ruben was dragged along at first, having the odd sensation of water rushing through him, cleaning him. Then; the motor increased in speed, and Ruben started to be whipped back and forth dizzyingly, his fabric body battered by hot tides.
He was flung around and around, finally being plastered against the side of the machine, riding it like a Gravitron from an amusement park. Centripedal force pressed him back against the side of the washer, squeezing him flat, water continuing to permeate his being. Then, it stopped, and Ruben loosened a little from the wall, starting to drift in the open liquid.
Another clunk ran through the machine, and the motor started to spin in the opposite direction, Ruben’s ride of terror beginning once more. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t in the dark, and didn’t involve him being so thoroughly drenched. The water was churned to a frenzy, and Ruben was as much at its mercy as he had been Cayla’s.
His only comfort was that he’d probably be fine—if a sharp thorn couldn’t pick at him, then this machine stood no chance of harming him. But it was a small comfort, and increasingly harder to hold onto as the current forced him to and fro, whirling him about.
Finally, the machine clunked again, stopping. Ruben could feel the water draining around him as he slapped back to the bottom of the washer. He was like a sieve, the water forcing its way through him as he sat limp underneath the water.
The rest of it drained, and Ruben was left soaking. He now truly understood what it meant to be wet—this wasn’t like being soaked by Cayla’s sweat; his exterior had been mostly dry then. This was a deep, cool soak that permeated his entire body, and Ruben almost cried out with joy as Cayla opened the washer, beaming down at him.
“Perfect!” She chirped, holding Ruben up for inspection.
He started with horror, realizing he was entirely pink now. He’d been so preoccupied with the dizzying washing to remember why he was being washed. The dye had more than done its job, and Ruben looked like he had always been a cherry-pink. Cayla bundled him up in her hands carefully, closing the washer behind him.
She cranked it on to run it empty, making sure that no other clothes would fall victim to her dye. This delay gave Ruben time enough to realize how truly soaked he was, how cool the air was on his drenched body. Being cold was different too, Ruben realized. He didn’t want to be warmed by traditional means; as a pair of leggings he wanted to be warmed by being worn.
But Cayla had a different plan in mind, tossing him into the dryer. Again, Ruben hit the metal of a laundry machine with a wet smack, and the door shut with that damnable clang, running through his nylon-blend form. A loud beep ran through the machine, and it too started to spin around him.
It was slower than the washer was, and Ruben found the slats inside the dryer moving just enough to get him to the top before he smacked against its bottom. This dizzying rush of being lifted then dropped didn’t last for too long—heat starting to flow into the machine.
Slowly, Ruben was lifted more and more as the machine sped up and he grew lighter. Ruben could feel himself losing all of the weight he’d picked up from the washing, and it was almost a comfort to return to being his light and fluttery form, despite the dryer whipping him around in that dizzying concentric loop.
The lack of water made it far more bearable, and Ruben could feel his fibers loosen up around him. Again, Ruben found himself recalling an amusement park ride—though this one was accompanied with a hot blast of air, relaxing his entire body. Finally, the cycle completed, and Cayla slipped him out of the machine, grinning from ear to ear.
“Oh, you look absolutely perfect!” She squealed, hugging her new tights to her chest. Ruben tried to wriggle from her grasp, but of course he was still immobile. He silently cursed Renata for leaving him so helpless. Though he still recognized this was a punishment, he knew that she had some kind intentions behind it. But leaving him immobile and unable to return to her?
Worse, it looked like Cayla had something else planned for him, as she was folding him to tuck into her shirt, slipping him between her breasts. The soft flesh embraced his fabric form, and he felt himself heating up, her body heat carrying through his thin form within seconds.
No sooner had she finished slipping him into her shirt than a call came down from above.
“Hey, Cayla? You done with the laundry yet?”
It was Renata! Ruben’s heart soared at the sound of his girlfriend’s voice, even as he felt it race from his current location. She had to tell that there was some trace of magic about him, even if he was currently pressed so close to her sister.
Wait... Could Cayla cast magic, too? Even if Cayla couldn’t, being related to Renata, would her presence overwhelm Ruben’s faint trace of an aura? He really hoped that wasn’t the case, and he was just applying the result of one too many fantasy novels. But as Cayla climbed the stairs to the top of her family’s basement, Ruben felt anticipation run through his body.
Renata had to recognize him! In the stories, magic folk were always able to point out their handiwork—this couldn’t be any different! A very small part of his body hadn’t been fully tucked into Cayla’s shirt, and he switched his perspective to look from there.
Sure enough, Renata was at the top of the stairs, a concerned frown on her face. “Hey, Cay... Did you wash that pair of tights I lent you? I want them back for tonight, if that’s okay...” Ruben’s heart soard—she really did care about him!
“Sorry.” Cayla’s voice was impossibly loud, the faint tremors through her chest quaking through Ruben’s body. “But... Something happened. While I was jogging back, they kind of caught on a thorn and... tore a little.” Between Cayla’s ample breasts, Ruben practically screamed with frustration. That was a complete lie! Cayla was trying to trick her sister into thinking that Ruben had been lost somehow.
But Renata had no way of knowing that. Her frown deepened, and Ruben saw the start of forming tears at the corners of her eyes. “What?” Her voice was small, barely a squeak. Ruben wanted nothing more than to leap from Cayla’s bosom and hug his girlfriend, but he could only watch as Cayla continued to lie to her.
“Hey, if it helps, I bought a new pair of tights... I’ll let you borrow them sometime? You said these were special, and... Are you crying?” Cayla cut herself off as Renata started to hiccup.
“I don’t want your new tights, I wand the old ones I gave you! They were really special to me! Please, do you still have them?” Renata trembled slightly, on the verge of a breakdown. Ruben had seen that only once before—when she thought she was going to fail one of her finals. Back then, he’d helped her study, pulling several all-nighters to come up with good review material for her. But now...
“Sorry, I kind of... Threw them out. That’s what you do with old tights, right? Hey, brand new tights—just for you to borrow! Please don’t cry!” Cayla hugged her sister tightly, and Ruben felt himself sink into despair at his utter helplessness.
Sure enough, Renata had broken into deep, heaving sobs, and Cayla frowned, no doubt unsure of what to do. She settled on patting her sister’s back. “Hey, tell you what. Whenever you want, we’ll go out shopping. You can wear the new tights I bought—I’m sure you’ll love them. They’re pink, and will go great with your purple dress.”
Renata continued to cry, slumping down to the floor as she started to hug herself in numb shock. “Y-yeah. Can we do it today? I can’t. I can’t think with myself right now. I mean be with myself. I mean...” Renata’s lower lip trembled, and she continued to cry, this time louder than before.
“Jesus, Renata. They were just tights.” Cayla pouted.
“No they weren’t!” Renata sobbed. Ruben looked to her clenched fists with alarm—a thin trail of blood was trickling down her middle finger.
Cayla sighed, another deep breath that Ruebn felt through his entire body. “Renata, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you liked them that much... We’ll go tomorrow. You need to get yourself cleaned up first, and I want to try out my new tights to see if they fit right. Okay?”
Renata nodded numbly with a faint, whimpered sigh. Ruben tried to stretch himself out, to reach out and dry her tears with his hands. But he was completely helpless, and could only catch a fleeting glimpse of her as Cayla slipped around the corner to put on her ‘lucky tights’.
Ruben could only pray that Renata would recognize him tomorrow... And that she could forgive him for hurting her.