The work week was busy for both Tara and Sasha.  They both had irregular schedules, and their shifts rarely overlapped.  That week, Tara’s only sign of Sasha’s existence was that dishes magically got cleaned, and a covered dish of pasta was waiting for her Wednesday night.

When Saturday night rolled around again, Tara dumped her bag at the door then stumbled to the couch.  She collapsed on it like a felled tree.  “I don’t wanna move for the next two days.”

Less than a minute later, Tara heard Sasha say, “Granted”.

Tara twisted and opened her eyes to look at Sasha, and saw a glowing ball arcing toward her.  She tried to lunge out of the way, but it was far too late.  The ball’s magic flared across her body before she could cry out, and her effort to lever herself off of the couch failed as her limbs collapsed underneath her.

Tara’s vision went dark.  She tried to curse Sasha for blinding her, but couldn’t make a sound.  She tried to move, but couldn’t do that, either.  All she could do was silently curse at Sasha for whatever she’d done.

“Oh my God.  You turned out perfect.”

Tara heard Sasha’s exclamation, and wondered how being paralyzed was perfect.  Then she felt her body move, bending and flexing in improbable ways.  Bits of her that shouldn’t be brushing against each other were, and it felt oddly...  Tara tried not to think about it, but as fingers brushed tenderly over her breasts she couldn’t deny it.  It felt fantastic.

The touch went away, leaving only a firm grip on what felt roughly like her shoulders.  The twisting and turning became more methodical, and she felt something akin to her feet catching against each other, as if some sort of hook and eye were latching.  It was then that she guessed what Sasha had done.  A whirling moment later, two great warm masses settled into Tara’s breasts and confirmed her suspicion.

She was a bra.

A bra that was full of two wonderful, soft, warm... wait, what was she thinking?  Tara tried to dismiss the thought.  She couldn’t be liking this.  This shouldn’t feel...  Sasha cupped hands around her, and the gentle squeezing drove conscious thought away on a wave of bliss.

Some unknowable time later, Tara woke to fullness.  There was a gentle pressure around her, the feel of fabric pressing in and helping her at her job of supporting those warm and wonderful masses inside her.  It took all her concentration to drive that thought away, and focus on the gentle bobbing, the soothing bobbing that dragged fabric against her in such a...  No!

Sasha was wearing her.  Moving about, walking, then bending and oh did that ever feel good, the swaying and rubbing and pressure.  Tara felt her fibers strain gently to hold Sasha’s warm and wonderful breasts in place.  It felt like the satisfaction of a good workout, everything moving and stretching just right.  She felt a little glow of satisfaction at how good a job she was doing.

Tara tried to drown her thoughts of satisfaction, to ignore how good it felt to do her job well.  As if Sasha could sense Tara’s efforts, an enormous hand cupped her, squeezing her gently, scattering her thoughts.  “You’re doing a great job, bra.”

Bra cheered happily, and went on to enjoy her work very much indeed.

Later, there was dancing.  Bra had to work even harder, but loved every moment of it.

Tara woke in the middle of the night, shortly after she’d been tucked safely into a drawer.  She reviewed her memories and cringed at how cheerful Bra had been.  And yet... she felt worked over, well used, and could not deny a certain contentedness at a job well done.  She was, in fact, a good bra.  She eventually decided that there wasn’t much to be gained by fighting the bra’s encroaching mindset.  She’d be normal soon enough.  Hopefully.  With that thought she dozed off once more.

Tara next woke to find herself growing, then feeling awfully constrained in a drawer that was meant for underthings, not people.  She scrabbled desperately at whatever she could reach, and breathed a sigh of relief as the drawer popped open.  She flopped bonelessly out of the drawer and tried to sit up.  Only some of her muscles were responding, and it felt like her hands were attached to her feet.  Wriggling her fingers made her fabric flop about near her toes.

The reversion seemed to be going slower than before, so she passed the time in trying out her changing body.  Soon she could squirm back and forth along the floor, and then she managed some jumps and kicks.

Eventually, her sight returned, and she bounced herself over to Sasha’s full length mirror.  She was still made of red satin, and looked to be about two feet tall.  Her arms were still little more than straps, but her chest was full size.  She giggled at the improbability of it all.

A matching giggle came from behind her.  “Having fun?”

Tara whirled about to see Sasha lounging in the doorway, a silly grin on her face.  “I...  How long is this going to take?”

Sasha shrugged.  “Longer the change, the longer the revert.  You’re making good progress.  Ten minutes?”

Tara put her straps on her waist, and tried to look cross.  “Stop giggling.”

“But you look so cute!  You were such a fantastic, sexy bra.”

Tara squirmed as Bra woke up in the back of her head and cheered.  “Bra was sexy?”

“Best bra ever.”

“Yay!”  Tara took over again and frowned.  “God damn it, stop that.”

“Stop what?” asked Sasha.

“Nothing,” muttered Tara truculently.

“Did you like being my best bra ever?”

“Nnn...yes.  But if you ever do that to me again, I will clobber you.  I was helpless!” growled Tara in a voice that was far too small to be threatening.

Sasha smirked.  “You didn’t want to move for two days.  So I helped you along.  Come on, you have to admit it was restful.”

“No I don’t.  Holding up your tits was a workout.”

“But you like workouts!” protested Sasha.

Tara tried to glower, then looked away to hide the smile at how her bra-self had felt about those workouts.  “Just don’t.  Wait, did you say two days?”

“Yeah, it’s Monday.  I had a work shift, just got back to find you dancing in my bedroom.  You were off, though.  Right?”

“I got asked to cover a couple shifts on Monday.  Crap!  What time is it?”

Tara found she wasn’t quite late for the second class, and Sasha agreed to carry her and her gear to the gym.  When they got there, Tara was still six inches short of her full height, and her skin still had a hint of weave to it.

“Hey boss, sorry about the screwup.”

Penny looked her over.  “What happened to you?”

Tara glowered at Sasha.  “Someone thought it’d be funny to turn me into a bra for the weekend.  Not quite back to normal yet, but I’ll manage.”

“Hey, it’s OK.  Your friend Rachel was here looking for you, and she knows enough to cover a beginner class.  Said she had fun, afterward, so it’s all good.  Do you think she’d work out as a junior instructor?”

Tara grinned and nodded enthusiastically.  “Oh yeah.  She hates her current job almost as much as Sasha here does.  Do you really have the hours for her?”

“Ursula disappeared on us last week,” grumbled Penny.  “We need someone, if you vouch for her the job is hers.”

“Hell yeah.”

“So... I did a good thing?” asked Sasha.

Tara glared at her with as much annoyance as she could muster.  It wasn’t nearly as much as she would have liked.  “Turning me into a bra was not a good thing, Sasha.  I hate being helpless.  Don’t do it again.”  She stomped off to the session room, and jumped right in.  Half the class was already present, and a few asked about her skin texture.  She tersely told the story, and got a few snickers in response.

“I’ve been a bra before,” said one woman at the back of the room.  “It was fun.”

Tara rubbed her temples.  “Yeah, well.  I also missed work.  So this might be a bit more vigorous than usual.  Everyone ready to... wait, which class was this again?”

“Dancercise,” replied several women.

“Right.  Let’s rock.”

*** *** ***

The next few days were quiet.  Tara saw little of Sasha as usual due to their schedules, though the apartment stayed clean, and dinner was left out for her more frequently.  She supposed that was some form of apology.

Thursday night, Tara came home expecting much the same, and was startled to see a glowing orb arcing toward her before the door had fallen closed.  She swore and swung her gym bag up to deflect the ball.  A bright flare of magic engulfed her bag.  Tara had the presence of mind to drop the bag before the glow engulfed her too.  Her bag arced through the air, dwindling as it went, and fluttered to the ground as a wisp of purple satin.

“Sasha!  What the hell?”  Tara shook her hand.  The glow was still clinging there, far fainter than the bag had glowed, but it wasn’t going away and her hand felt tingly and limp.

As Tara watched her hand slowly turn purple, Sasha moved closer.  But when she reached for the magic stress ball lying near Tara’s feet, Tara shouldered her away.  “No!”

Tara scooped the ball up with her right hand, and clenched it in her fist.  “This is not a toy.  Look what it’s doing to me!  My hand is...”  She fluttered her off hand.  “Damn it, it’s just fabric.  How long will I be stuck like this?”

“Maybe you’ll turn into panties, too.”

Tara stared down at the floor, where a little pile of purple fabric was all that remained of her gym bag.  She hooked a finger into it and lifted it up.  Panties, as described.  “This is what you were going to turn me into?”

“Yep.  You’ve been sneaking peeks at my boobs ever since I turned you into a bra, I figured this would get you to admit you liked pussy.”

“SASHA!”  Tara felt her cheeks burn.

“Imagine being snuggled up against it all day, pressed against my most intimate parts.  How’s that arm doing, by the way?”

Tara stomped off to her bedroom and slammed the door behind herself.  She went straight to the lockbox in her closet, punched in the code, and tossed the ball inside.  Once it was securely locked away, she wrestled her jacket off with one hand, then examined her arm.  The skin below her elbow was purple instead of pink, but the change didn’t seem to be progressing.  She rubbed her good hand over the seam, and further down her arm.  The texture gradually shifted, becoming slick and satiny by her wrist, at which point all that was left was a triangular bit of fabric instead of a hand.  Rubbing the fabric between her fingers drew a soft moan as it sent pleasant tingles up her spine.  What would it have felt like to have her whole body so sensitive?

Tara shook her head and growled.  “No.  I’m glad I’m not stuck.”  She cast her mind back to the glow of the orb as she entered.  It had been brighter than she’d seen it before.

Tara stormed back out into the common room.  “How long?”

Sasha held up her hands defensively.  “I don’t know exactly.  I’ve never gotten it that bright before.  Based on last time... four or five days?  You’ll know when the ball changes back to green, that’s the halfway point.”

“I’d have missed a dozen classes!  Were you trying to get me fired?” shouted Tara.

“I talked to your boss.  She said Rachel could handle most of your classes, and she’d pick up a few herself.”

Tara shook her fabric hand at Sasha.  “Am I going to be stuck with this for days, too?”

“I don’t know!  I didn’t even know it could do that.  How quickly did it change?”

“Took a while.  A couple minutes?”

Sasha licked her lips as Tara continued to glare at her.  “It’ll probably change back soon.  Can I touch it?”

“What?  Why?”

Tara didn’t pull away as Sasha approached, and tried to hide her blush as the other woman stroked her fabric.  She could feel her nipples hardening, though, and see Sasha’s smirk as she noticed the same thing.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?  I tried to think about that when I imagined the panties.  The bra too.”

Tara whimpered softly.  “Yes.  Agh, what are you doing to me?”

“Planting the idea that being worn feels really nice,” purred Sasha.

Tara yanked her hand away, and only belatedly realized that it was, in fact, a hand.  “Yes!  Back to normal.  Thank God.”

“No harm done, then?”

Tara’s brows knitted.  “No harm done?  My workout gear and my favourite gym bag are currently a pair of panties.  What am I going to wear to work tomorrow?”

“The panties?”  Sasha hid her smirk at Tara’s look.  “I’ll wash your laundry, it’ll be ready for you first thing in the morning.”

Tara grumbled, but accepted the offering.  She supervised as Sasha picked up all the laundry on her floor, everything except the purple panties.  “Those are clean.  They should be pretty comfy, too.  Might as well give them a try.”

Tara picked them up, and tried very hard not to imagine what it would feel like to have her fingers stroking over her fabric body.  She remembered all too well how good it had felt, how fundamentally satisfying to do a simple job well.  She was still standing there and staring at them when Sasha returned, and failed to object as Sasha tidied up her room and made her bed.

“Wow, you’re really out of it.  Penny for your thoughts?” asked Sasha.

“Why four days?”

Sasha glanced away.  “Enough time to wear you a couple of times, and hand wash you in between.”

“I wonder what hand washing feels like,” mused Tara to herself.  Or so she thought.

“I bet it’s like a whole-body massage and a hot tub soak at the same time.  You’d be gently wrung out at the end in my best towel.”

“Stop it,” groused Tara without heat.

“Make me.”

Tara’s head snapped up to meet Sasha’s insouciant gaze.  “What?”

“You’ve got the bug now.  You know where you really belong.  My panty drawer.”  Sasha reached for the panties in Tara’s hand.

Tara snatched them away.  “No!  I have a life, Sasha.  A job, family I still talk to, unlike you...”

Sasha smirked.  “Can’t distract me that easily.  Never liked most of them anyway.  You’d be the best panties.  Put them on and see.”

“Out!”

Sasha laughed merrily as she skipped out of Tara’s room, and closed the door behind her.  Through it she called, “Give me a show once you have them on.”

“Why should I?”

“I’ll cook your favourite dinner,” sang Sasha.

Tara didn’t answer.  She just stared at the panties in her hands.  The fabric felt sinfully rich.  It was so smooth, and there wasn’t a seam to be seen.  She gave it a slight tug, and it stretched easily.  Despite looking two sizes too small, she suspected they’d fit.

Before she knew it, Tara’s sweats and ugly grey panties had fallen to the floor, and she was sitting on the corner of her bed.  She slid one foot into the panties, and shuddered.  They felt even better than they had on her calloused fingers.  The other foot followed, then she slowly drew them up her legs.  The fabric clung to her, caressing her as it stretched to accommodate her muscles.  Her breath caught as the panties approached her hips.  If they felt that good on her legs...

Tara bit her lip to contain any... sounds she might make, and slid the panties the rest of the way up.  It took every bit of her willpower not to moan in delight.  They felt like... like a warm tongue, pressing gently against her.  The image wouldn’t go away, and the hand that was supposed to pull them back down instead found its way to her crotch.

Tara’s hips bucked, and she bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood.  That managed to snap her out of it, and she pulled her hands away.  She got up and stumbled to her door, opened it, then leaned heavily against the frame.  “Happy?”

Sasha smiled at her broadly.  “Do they feel good?”

Tara whimpered and nodded.  “It feels like... like...”

“Go have fun.  Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

Tara spun away from that smug smirk, and slammed the door behind herself once more.  She tumbled to her bed, stuffed her face into her pillow, and even that failed to contain the noises she made.

Half an hour later, a sweaty, disheveled Tara emerged from her room, panties in hand.  She blushed all the way to the bathroom, spent some time there gently washing the panties in the sink, blotted and rolled them in a towel, then returned to her room and laid them out to dry.

She could feel Sasha’s gaze follow her every step of the way.  But all the other woman said when she emerged was, “Dinner’s almost ready.  Maybe get some pants on?”

Tara looked down at herself.  All she was wearing was her crop-top.  But it seemed her cheeks had run out of blush.  “Does it bother you?”

Sasha smirked.  “I’d love to watch you parade around here in nothing but muscles.  You will get ogled.”

Tara shrugged.  “Okay.”

“Wow.  One session with magic panties and you’re this relaxed?  Damn, I wish you hadn’t dodged.”

Tara’s attempt to glower failed utterly.  “Would you really do that to a person?”

“Would you hate it?”

Tara didn’t answer, because she didn’t trust what she would say.  She was thankful when dinner was ready, and ate quietly and appreciatively, mopping up every last bit of sauce with her bread.  “That was lovely.  Thank you.”

Sasha smiled.  “You’re welcome.  For everything.”

Tara sighed.  “Don’t spoil it.”

Sasha mimed zipping her lips, and turned to clean up the kitchen instead.

The next day, when Tara returned home, she found Sasha waiting for her.  “How was your day?”

Tara managed a half-glower.  “I was stuck using a grocery bag for my stuff, and all my best leggings are still tied up in a pair of panties.”

“Would it help if I apologized?”

Tara studied her roommate wearily.  “Can you sincerely tell me you would have regretted turning me into panties?”

This time it was Sasha’s turn to blush.  “Uh...”

“Didn’t think so.  So no, an apology is not going to fly.”