Changes in Store (Complete)

[Ryu Hayabusa]

/facepalm

[Sphore]

Hey everyone! It's been a while since I contributed. I've been continuing to write on other sites, but a lot of my tg-themed projects have run into blocks, and remain half-completed in a world document that I keep on my computer. However, I was struck by an idea that I liked very much a few weeks ago, and have endeavoured to start writing it.

Typically, my stories have been snippets, little short pieces that are essentially framing devices to allow me to write a transformation of some sort. However, for this one, I wanted to try to write characters who had a bit more depth and motivation to them. I want to write a protracted tg (slow transformations are typically my favourites, both to read and write), which should be enjoyable, but also something that stands on its own as an interesting story.

As always, I am very happy to receive feedback and criticism on my writing.

*****

Covert Dreams

There she was, her back flat against the bed, her skin as smooth and perfect as I’d imagined it, her dark hair scattered on the pillow. Everything else was hazy, but Valerie… I saw her with perfect clarity. She was gorgeous, wonderful… sexy as hell in a lacy black bra and panties. Her lazy smile invited me down, and I realized that I was already naked. I slid myself onto the bed, and embraced her. I was painfully aroused as our bodies entwined, my hands running over her every curve and crevice.

“I want you… in me.”

Something was terribly wrong, I faintly realized. It wasn’t her voice. Abruptly, Val was just a passive object, a mannequin of flesh. She lay in place, moving but not responding. It was her underwear, speaking to me.

“I want you in me, Simon.”



I awoke in erotic discomfort, looking around to find myself in the dimly-lit early morning of my bedroom. It was that dream again. I felt a sticky dampness around my groin, and groaned at the mess I would have to clean up. As the cloudiness of sleep began to lift away from me, I noticed something else amiss. Reaching down, I felt a strange fabric. I pulled my sheets back and looked.

“…the fuck?” I mumbled, shaking my head and blinking. There, framed in black lace, were the panties. From the dream. On me.

Well, actually, they weren’t just from the dream. I’d seen them before. I’d found them in the laundry room a few weeks earlier, when Val had been doing her laundry, and snuck them back into my room- they were still hidden in my sock drawer, or so I’d assumed.

Now, wakefulness hit me more solidly. I had women’s underwear on! What the hell? I hadn’t taken them out of the drawer. Had I? Was I drunk last night?

I was quite sure that I had been neither drunk, nor daring enough to take my illicit treasure from its hiding place. Still…

Damnit. I felt myself growing hard again. The feeling of Val’s underwear against my skin was too arousing for me to resist. I pulled my sheets back up over my body. My hands descended, and I began to masturbate, imagining her lying alongside me, her legs wrapped around my hips, her fingers digging into my back, our two bodies made to one!

I shuddered and came. Shame immediately overcame my arousal, and I went limp in body and spirit.

“I’m a fucked up degenerate.” I whispered to myself, bitterly. Something inside me said that this wasn’t normal. It shouldn’t be, it never had been. I needed to talk to someone- not that I had the guts to do that. I was too embarrassed to even breach the topic of even ‘normal’ sex in conversation, let alone the bizarre shit that suited my kinks.

Disgusted with myself, I pulled off the garment, and hurled it into my laundry basket. With a heavy heart, I removed my bedsheets and put them overtop of the evidence, before walking to the shower to clean myself of evidence.



A few minutes, I entered the kitchen. My floormate Michael nodded to me and gestured to the coffee maker. I nodded in thanks and grabbed a cup, pouring myself some cereal as well.

“You’re looking rough this morning.”

I froze. Was there something on me? My eyes surreptitiously scanned my body, but came up empty.

Michael, the frustratingly perceptive person that he was, picked up on my discomfort immediately.

“Girl problems?”

“Man, you don’t even-”

“It’s Valerie, isn’t it?”

I gave him a reticent glare. He rolled his eyes back at me.

“I know you-”

“Not now.”

“Look, I’ve told you Megan’s friends with her, she can set you two up-”

“No.” I was a bit harsher in my tone than I’d intended. Michael raised his hands defensively, his expression perplexed.

“No thanks.” I corrected myself, “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

Michael opened his mouth and looked like he was about to dispute that statement, but thought better of it. He finished his eggs and toast in silence, and placed his dishes in the sink.

“Enjoy your breakfast. I’ve gotta head out early for a rehearsal.”

“Later.” I mumbled, not making eye contact. The door squeaked open and shut with a click. I felt a little bad for brushing him off- Michael meant well. He was trying to help, it was what the man did. You could call him a busybody, but that wasn’t really fair. He was just… empathetic. He saw problems, then immediately went to fix them. I just… bleh. I didn’t want to talk about my stupid, embarassing self-inflicted problems. I’d had relationships before, in high school, but they were little childish things, in hindsight. Valerie was… different. Special. I’d idolized her when I met her. I should have just gone up to her after a few weeks and told her how I felt, but I’d hesitated and she started dating some soccer player. We’d become good friends, and when she’d broken up after a few months I decided I’d give her some time before asking her out. And that time had just stretched on and on.

I gripped my cereal spoon tightly, in frustration at my past decisions. To avoid being a creep, I’d held myself away from her, and now I felt like it would be even worse to say that I liked her, after all these months. I’d ruthlessly and effectively friend zoned myself, and now I was masturbating in illicit lingerie… which could only make things worse.

Abruptly, I looked up, to see that I had eight minutes to get to classes. Cursing, I abandoned my nigh-untouched meal, scrambled to find my bags, and sprinted out the door.

[Sphore]

I was sitting in my Oceanography lecture, and my mood was significantly improved. It’s often that way for me- cooping yourself up is just a recipe for introspection and depression. Some days you just need to get out. The professor was talking through seafloor spreading when I found myself growing uncharacteristically distracted. I usually quite enjoyed this course, but I was unable to focus on the discussion.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I could feel the source of my unease now- my underwear was shifting on me, as if pulled by invisible hands. I lifted myself a short distance off my seat and sat down again, but the sensation only intensified. I could feel the friction of the fabric sliding along my skin, as the legs of my boxer shorts were pulled up against the grain of my leg hair. It was like a slow-motion wedgie, but the fabric wasn’t accumulating or rising up on me- it was shrinking! Abruptly, I felt a tightening, as if the unseen force were intensifying its efforts. My knees clamped together and I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. The student sitting next to me gave me an odd look for a moment. I feigned a stretch, and forced myself to sit still. The creeping continued- my boxers felt like briefs now, and the fabric itself seemed to be changing. It felt smoother than the rough cotton, although the edges had a strange, unfamiliar texture.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I quietly stood up from my seat and made a quick exit from the room. Mercifully, I had been late arriving, and had been forced to take a seat by the door. With my legs pressed stiffly together, I made a beeline straight towards the bathroom. The door swung shut behind me and I raced to a stall, immediately pulling down my pants. There I beheld what had become of my boxer shorts. Before my very eyes they were transforming. Blue plaid had shifted to purple, and continued to rapidly redden. The garment no longer even resembled briefs, but a pair of panties. Their shrinking continued on for a final few seconds, before settling into a pair of panties. My buttocks were half covered, and the sides weren’t quite reduced to strings… but they were alarmingly close. Lacework wove itself around the top, before at last completing itself. With that, the garment was lifeless once more.

I shuddered, and pulled them off, sitting down on the toilet seat. I jumped back up, cursing, and lowered the seat before I sat down again. What was happening? In this moment, I was struck with the monumentality of what had just occurred. The morning’s affair… that could be explained away by sleepwalking. It was strange, but still possible. This… was it magic? A hallucination? I felt the panties that hung around my knees. They were real, and my boxers were nowhere to be seen. There’s no way I’d left my room without them.

I put my head down into my palms and took a deep breath. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew I couldn’t keep wearing this… garment. I stepped out of my pants and pulled it off, stuffing it into my backpack and covering it with a book. I pulled my pants back up. Going commando wasn’t the most comfortable thing I’d ever done, but I could live with it until I got home. I stood up, cleared my mind, and departed from the bathroom.



“You’re back early.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin, before I saw Michael at the kitchen table, reading a novel and fishing around in a bowl of mixed vegetables.

“Well… same to you.”

“Rehearsal finished early today.”

“Yeah… my professor was sick today.”

“That’s too bad.” I couldn’t tell if he noticed the lie or not.

“Yeah. Anyway, I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

I walked swiftly past him, entered my room, and locked the door behind me. I unzipped my backpack and pulled out the red panties. Frowning, I carried them over and put them into the drawer where I had kept Val’s stolen panties hidden. I cached the troubling underwear out of sight, closed the drawer, then paused. Something was amiss, and it took me a moment to realize what it was. I opened the drawer and stared into it. Buried underneath several rows of socks were both the new pair of red panties, and a black pair. I mentally retraced my steps. I had gotten the latter several weeks ago, snatched from a laundry hamper while I was helping Val’s old roommate move out. Those panties had been hidden in my room ever since. I thought that I had taken them out of the drawer the previous night- but here they were, untouched.

Nonplussed, I strode over to my laundry basket and found the stained lingerie in which I had awoken. I realized, in this moment, that it must have transformed from the sleep pants that I’d worn the previous night. I shuddered- what else might have been happening without my noticing?

I didn’t have much time to ponder this, as I felt a sudden tightening of my pants. In a panic, I practically leapt out of them, kicking them away onto the floor. I stared in fear as they roiled and twitched for a minute or two. At last, they came to a halt. I warily reached down and picked them up. The fabric was unchanged, but the stitchwork and patterns were very different. Female cut, I quickly surmised. With that, I dropped them on the ground, took off my shirt, for fear that the same thing would repeat itself, and curled up into my bed with a whimper.

I lay there in a daze for several hours, struggling to process what was happening. My understanding of the world had been turned on its head. I had seen impossible things happen before my eyes. It was as if some malevolent presence was chasing me, taunting me, seeking to confuse and humiliate me. I lay in this trance for several hours, until I was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Simon!” It was Michael’s voice. “It’s your turn to make dinner tonight.”

Oh hell. It was. I froze up. I had no idea what was happening to my clothing, and I didn’t want to go out as abrupt transmogrification was still a possibility.

Michael knocked again.

“Sime. You awake buddy?”

Damnit. I had to say something. I faked a cough.

“Yeah, I’m awake.” I coughed again. “Think I’m coming down with something though. Just order a pizza, I’ll pay for it.”

“That’s no fun. Anything I can get for you?”

A return to a world where things that happened made sense? That would be nice.

“No… thanks though. I’m just gonna rest, hopefully it’ll go down soon.”

“Alright then.” Michael was quiet for a moment. “I’ll order. Any topping you’d like?”

“Anything, man. Please, just let me… rest.”

“Right. Hope you’re feeling better soon.”

I heard footsteps disappearing away down the hallway, and the muffled sound of a phonecall. Guilt over my dishonesty helped to distract me, if only for a moment, from the day’s bizarre events. It still made no sense to me, although as more time passed, the transformation of my clothing became more and more dreamlike. Had I just imagined it? Had I misremembered what was in my room? Was I going through a schizophrenic episode? I checked the room again, and the evidence was all exactly where I had left it. Not knowing what else to do, I laboriously lifted myself from bed. With my blanket wrapped around me, I crossed the room and turned on my computer. A quick search of the internet was, predictably, fruitless. If there was any precedent for this sort of thing, I’d have heard about it before.

My research was abruptly interrupted by a light knock at the door.

“Food’s here.” Michael’s voice carried through the door. “You’re still covering, right?”

I turned off my computer screen, fumbled around for my wallet, and pulled out several bills. I pulled on my housecoat and walked to the door.

“Here you go.”

Michael accepted the money, and turned towards the front door of our apartment.

“How many slices would you like?”

“I’m really not feeling very hungry right now.

Michael narrowed his eyes and gave me a concerned look.

“Well… okay then. I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge. There’s some cough syrup in the medicine cabinet if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

My floormate nodded and began to leave, before pausing and turning back.

“Hope you’re feeling better soon man. You’re not looking yourself at all.”

[Ryu Hayabusa]

I look forward to the next part. Your writings are always quite good.