by grapehyacinth 

 “Boy, the roots on this bush are incredible,” I exclaimed as I helped my new girlfriend transplant a large lilac on the side of her property. “Can't you just...magic it to a different place?”

She wiped some sweat off her brow as she helped me push the roots down into the freshly-dug hole. “I never thought of it, but honestly, there's more to life than magic. Gardening is my stress relief.”

I wanted to disagree with her, considering how I'd met Cybelle and learned of her abilities. When she had turned some of the neighborhood toughs into bowling pins, I was so floored that I allowed her to change me into a bowling ball just to knock them all down. My main aim was for the middle pin, a man who had recently attacked my sister. I wished Cybelle had kept him as a bowling pin, but before she turned him back, she did transform him into a Barbie doll. She left him in an alley behind a bar too. I hope some drunks did awful things to him in that form.

That had been last week. We had only a chance to meet for a quick lunch at a restaurant since then, which irked me to no end. I was so shocked and fascinated by her ability to change things that I wanted to see more. Much more.

Okay, I wanted her to do it to me again, too.

The way she had lightly fingered me, coaxing my body to harden into a perfect sphere, was beyond description. And I'd felt so good as an object, free from the jail of a living body. The idea of being a ball might have sounded scary, but now having experienced it, I was aching for more.

So when Cybelle asked for help in her garden, promising a home-cooked meal after, I couldn't refuse.

“We'll have to water this in a minute,” Cybelle said, drawing me from my reverie. She finished covering the roots with dirt, and I turned on the hose.

“Yes, really soak it, Nick. Make sure all the roots are wet. It feels so much better that way.”

“It does?” Was she saying this from personal knowledge?

She blushed. “Yes. When I'm a plant, I make sure my soil's very moist – I overwater it, in fact. I just love the feeling of drinking it up through my roots. Then it runs all through me. It's almost as nice as when the sun hits your leaves.”

I remained silent, wondering why I was here. This woman was in a league way beyond mere mortals such as me. Why was she even wasting her time with me? I felt so flattered, I had the urge to fall to her feet and kiss them for allowing me to breathe the same air she did.

She gazed at me. “You want to be changed again. I can feel it.”

Now it was my turn to blush. “Well, it was so incredible...”

She went over and turned off the hose. “Well, you did really help me here. I think we can arrange something,” she winked, then looked down at her clothes. “But if you'll forgive me, I'd really like to take a shower first. I'm filthy.”

Longing played out all over my face. I could feel it. I wanted to be inside that shower with her like I needed food. I'd never seen her body, but I knew it would be perfect.

Chuckling, she uttered, “Now, Nick. I think you understand I'm an old-fashioned girl. I just met you, you know.”

I was no ladies' man, either, and I'm sure she knew it. But how I wanted to be in there...

“Hm. I think there's a way to make us both happy.”

As she led me upstairs, I was seriously shivering with anticipation. My teeth were chattering and goosebumps were raising up on my arms. She looked back at me with an amused smile on her lips. “You're so excited by this. I love it.” She lowered her voice as she led me into the large bathroom, “It's got me pretty excited as well.”

She took a bottle of body wash from the cabinet and placed it on the shower shelf. She wasn't saying anything, and it only added to my excitement. As she removed her shirt and pants, I sat down on a little bath-bench that sat against the wall. The suspense was killing me.

“Oh my God, what are you going to make me?” I finally burst out.

Slowly she pulled off each sock, and I saw that there was caked-on mud on them. I wanted to soap up her pretty feet until they were clean, then I'd kiss her toes...

Placing the socks in a pile with the rest of her clothes, she crept towards me, a hungry look on her face. “I really got dirty out there,” she murmured, reaching for me.

I wanted her, and I only wished she'd removed the rest of her clothes. Even in the white panties and bra, though, she was still beautiful. I mean, she wasn't model material. She was just...womanly and perfect and...magical. “Let me help clean you...” I pleaded, mesmerized.

“Yes, I'll need your help.” She curled her hand around my neck, and I could feel her searching around under my shirt. I smiled. Was I just getting a backrub?

But she gripped my neck, and right where she touched my skin it seemed to soften. “You'll be so squeezable,” she whispered, and she began to stroke every part of me.

“Mm...” I managed to push out. “Make me squeezable. Do it.”

She kept kneading me, eliciting the most wonderful sensations. Her touch was electrifying to the point that I couldn't stand her teasing me like this. “Oh, God, change me, Cybelle! Please!”

Suddenly I was dangling from her hand. She still held me from the back of my neck, but it didn't hurt at all because the softness was spreading all over me.

“Change for me, Nick. Change.” Her very words rendered me nearly unable to move. My arms and legs hung limply, but I could see them taking on a pink tinge.

“You're making me something pink?” I cried happily.

“And squeezable. Remember that!” She swept her hand all the way down my torso. “Ah, you'll love this.”

I could feel my body changing in a way it hadn't when I was a bowling ball. Becoming soft and pliable was strangely freeing. As my limbs became terrycloth and all of me melded into a shrinking rectangular shape, I was just able to cry, “I'm turning into a towel!” before I had no more mouth.

“A washcloth, Nick!” she giggled, rubbing me where my privates once had been. This in conjunction with the conclusion of my transformation sent me into such ecstasy that every part of my soft body tingled and shuddered. And I was helpless to do anything but take it.

“Ah,” she tittered. “I always love that last shudder before the person's completely transformed! How do you feel, Nick?”

Well, first of all, I was in too much of a brain-fog after such an experience to be able to form coherent words. But then again, I couldn't talk anyway. And, unlike when I'd been a bowling ball, I couldn't see either.

“Don't worry, I'm not letting us talk to each other. You are my washcloth, and I'm going to use you the way you're supposed to be used.” She gathered me up, crushing me into a tingly ball.

I loved this woman.

The fact that I was was merely an object for her use turned me on so completely that another immense rush of pleasure ran through me. I'd call it an orgasm, but honestly, I was a washcloth. It was beyond sexual anyway. It was...stratospheric, and honestly, I didn't need words in this situation. They didn't matter. I was bundled up in my lover's fist, and she was stroking and crushing my pliant form. Who needed language at a time like this?

Stroke me more...roll me in your soft hands...

I wasn't sure if she heard me or not. She was able to communicate telepathically with the transformed, but she could turn it off at will.

She didn't respond. Instead she put me down. “More to come, Nick. I just have to get the rest of my clothes off.”

Oh God, she was naked and I couldn't see her.

And yet I realized, this only made me hotter. A horny washcloth. What was this world coming to?

Use me, Cybelle. I need to make your perfect body clean.

The shower sprayed on, and the thought of my fibers being immersed in it was enticing. She fished me up again and I could hear her bare feet walking across the tiles. How I wanted to kiss them...

“Hope this is warm enough for you, Nick.”

I was now under the spray of the shower. And even if I were human, I would be incapable of emitting a sound. Every single jet was boring into my form, like the ultimate pleasurable acupuncture.

And she just held me there.

I was on fire, lost in a sea of unstopping bliss. I seriously was losing myself...

“You're so absorbent. That must feel great.”

I was vaguely aware of getting heavier, and I tried to pull myself back into this dimension. But the water was penetrating me through and through, making me swell and enlarge...

Oh, holy...shit... What is this magnificent woman doing to me...Why do I deserve such treatment...?

And then there was wonderful pressure. She twisted and crushed me, wringing the water from me. Then there was a squirt of something fragrant, which she began to knead into my fibers.

“Your own little massage,” she murmured. “You're strawberry sweet, and all ready to get me clean.”

I was smacked down on a smooth, curved surface, and slowly, hypnotically, she worked me back and forth. From how far up and down I was going, I assumed I was on her leg.

“Mm, Nick. You're just rough enough to do the job,” she said.

I wish I could see you...

There was no reply, and I felt myself inserted between her toes. In and out I went, pulling away any hint of grime. I hoped I was serving her well. I really wanted to be a good washcloth...

Oh, listen to me...a good washcloth? Seriously?

“You're such a good washcloth,” she purred, making me suspicious about this 'no communication' idea. But her comment also made me swell with pride (in addition to the water). I really was trying to be a good washcloth. I wanted her to be happy with me...

I was traveling higher up, and I was cupped around her arms...up and down. I could feel the suds in and on top of me. Each popping bubble resonated through my cotton. Oh, where was I now? A flat surface...

“Kiss my belly button, Nick!” she ordered as I went over a divot. I wished I had lips. I'd kiss all of her.

I was inserted in a warm area which I assumed was her underarm. “Hang on a sec, Nick. I'm just washing my hair.” And that was fine. I nestled in my spot, comfortable while attempting to get my mind back from Blissland.

Yet then I was quickly growing impatient. I wasn't serving my purpose this way.

Use me more...rub me...Let me clean you, Cybelle. I exist for you.

Remaining in one spot caused the water to gather in me and I plumped up again. It felt nice, and the thought of the inevitable wringing that was soon to follow made me all excited again.

But instead, Cybelle just picked me up. “Come here, Nick,” I was being pushed over a bumpy surface, and then I felt something pushing against me.

Her lips.

She planted a kiss on me. It was hard and deliberate, and it set me off yet again.

“You like that, huh? I feel your arousal. It's through the roof.”

She ran her tongue over my fibers. I don't know she was able to stand it, but...well, I don't know how I stood it either.

“Oh, Nick...I need you...”

I was going down her neck, and I think I really was shuddering when I was pushed between what seemed to be two mountains...

Cybelle let out a moan, and I began my first mountain-climbing adventure...only I was a washcloth, and the mountains were actually...

Oh, God... Each breast was smooth and softer than me, and I slid up and down them while she caressed herself through my material... Her nipples were perky and erect...

I was again in that other dimension where only pleasure reigned.

And then I was sliding lower. I was momentarily dismayed until I realized where I was headed.

It was warm again, and I was clasped from either side by...legs...

“Now I'll use you for a bit more than washing...”

Thank you, thank you, God, I thought as she rubbed herself through me.

Completely breathless, Cybelle staggered backwards, dropping me to the shower floor. I lay there, a solid block of ecstasy, the collected water engorging me even more. Oh, God, nothing could come close to what I had just experienced. Cybelle had definitely had her share of fun as well.

Panting, she fished me up. “You're shaking. You're really shaking.”

I'm surprised I hadn't spontaneously combusted, honestly. Well, I was wet, so I guess I couldn't.

She gave me one last wring and kissed me. “Thank you for that. I've never had such a...” her voice trailed off, but I understood totally. I never had such 'a' either.

The drumming sound of the shower ceased, and my spirits fell. I didn't want this particular shower to end, but I guess I couldn't be a piece of cloth forever... Although I would if Cybelle promised to use me every day...

“Sit here a minute, Nick. Let me dry off and get my clothes on.”

No! Don't get your clothes on!

But I felt myself splat down on the counter, and I amused myself by imagining her slipping on her clothes. Of course it was more exciting thinking of them coming off, but a towel's got to take what it can get.

I felt a tug and found myself dangling in the air. Then I was placed down on something relatively soft and my whole form began to tingle. “Let's get you back. But slowly, of course.”

She was stroking me, pulling at my corners and lengthening them. I didn't want to turn back, but I also wanted this. Transforming was...oh, God...

“This will be cute,” she said, and I could feel my head re-forming. It was definitely weird, I had to say. I felt as if my head was embedded in my fabric, and she was pulling it out. “Hey, I can see!” I cried.

“And you can talk too. I gave you your head back, although it's still made of material.”

I gazed up at her. I was so small in relation to her. “Goddess” came into my head, and she giggled.

“You're kind of like a doll. No, wait, did you ever see those baby washcloths with a little head on the top?”

“No.”

“Well, that's what you are. A washcloth with a head!” She picked me up so I could see myself in the bathroom mirror. And what I saw blew me away. What was very obviously my head, brown hair and all, was fashioned of cotton. It sat atop the rest of my terrycloth square of a body. Each of the four corners hung down a bit as Cybelle had begun to fashion them back into my limbs.

“Oh, I love when you pull me like that,” I murmured, watching her grasp my corners.

She sat back down and placed me in her lap, stroking me to get longer and plumper. I couldn't stop moaning. “Why does it feel so good?”

She laughed. “First of all, I chose to make it feel good. It doesn't have to. I could even make it horribly painful if I wanted to because, after all, your whole body is being completely altered.”

I groaned in ecstasy. “Alter me all you want.”

“You're the most sensitive piece of material that ever existed.”

“You're damned straight I ammm...” this ended in a long, drawn-out groan. I could see small hands and feet forming on what had been my corners. I was now dangling limply over her legs as I grew larger and more human.

She peered into my eyes. “Did you really love it?”

I was firming up and losing my pink color now. I was also gaining weight. “How could you even ask me that? My question is this. Why didn't you let me see or talk this time?”

Cybelle smiled craftily. “Because I didn't want you to.” She rubbed me in just the right place, now that I was human once more.

I took a deep, pleasured breath. “Why?”

“I didn't want you distracted.”

“Distracted? What could possibly distract me from that...incredible...awesome...”

She grinned at me knowingly. “I think I transformed you in just the right way.”

She was right, of course. Talking or seeing would have pulled me away from completely experiencing the sensations of being transformed. “You did. Definitely,” I admitted. “I wouldn't have changed any of it.”

Grudgingly, I rose from her lap and stumbled across the bathroom, trying to get used to being a person again. But walking on two legs was disappointing, and I gazed back at her longingly.

“What?”

I lowered my head and avoided her gaze. “Can I be your shirt?”

Cybelle rolled her eyes. “Come on, Nick, I promised you dinner.”

I made an 'aw shucks' expression.

She took my hand and led me out of the bathroom. “I could use an oversized frying pan right now, however.”

Can I tell you how great sizzling oil feels inside you when you're a frying pan?