#permanent transformation

[pegasus-omega]

Picture source: anonymous

[anon-sect]

Henry and Ron heard that they were making changes in the department. Their jobs were on the list to possibly be eliminated. Both worried that that they could lose their jobs due to those changes.

They had received an email from the department head to come to his office to discuss their job responsibilities. Both knew what the conversation was about to be. Henry knocked on the department heads office door at the same time that Ron arrived. They heard Alex tell them to come in.

Alex saw Ron and Henry enter his office just as scheduled. "Gentleman, have a seat." He motioned for them to have a seat.

Henry and Ron took the two seats across from Alex.

"As you two are aware, we have made changes. Unfortunately, your positions are no longer required." Alex paused. "And we aren't filling in any new position at this current time. I hate to let you two go, but unfortantly, my hands are tied."

"There has got to be something for us. This job has been my main source of income." Ron pleaded, almost begging for any position, even as a janitor.

"I am in the same boat as him, Sir. I really need this job." Henry added.

Alex thought for a moment. There was one position that was available, but it was a risky one. "I do have one position that could be offered to both of you, but I have to warn you. It will be permanent for starters. Second, it will be irreversible." He would never really offer it to anyone, but these two seemed really desperate.

"We will take it." Both Henry and Ron spoke up at the same time.

"Okay, go down to the R&D Department. They will tell you about the job." Alex spoke, almost feeling sorry for the both of them.

THREE HOURS LATER.......

Ron woke up feeling strange. He couldn't move or speak, He felt like he was attached to something like a wall. The last thing he remembered was the R&D department injecting him with some liquid substance. He lost consciousness after that.

He looked up to see his work best friend Jason approaching. Ron tried to speak or get his attention but had no means to do so. He saw Jason unzip his pants and pull out his dick. He pointed it directly down at him. Hot piss poured into his mouth as Jason peed. He saw him zip up his pants and walk away without speaking a single word to him. Suddenly, he was forced to swallow the disgusting piss that was mixed with water. It tasted so gross. He wanted to vomit. It was then that he realized what he was. He was a urinal at the office. He wanted to get away so badly, but was completely stuck to the wall.

Henry was disgusted as the fourth guy had come into the restroom and urinated in his mouth. As soon as the guy walked off, the automated feature activated. He was forced to swallow another coworker's piss. The bad part was that none of them were aware that the urinal they pissed in was a former human. The R&D department had told him and Ron that the new position would be permanent. He just wished they had told them what the position was before letting them get injected. This new existence was a nightmare. He now wished they had just fired him instead.

Ron saw one of the R&D department guys walk in with Alex.

"These are you two urinals we installed earlier." Greg spoke to Alex.

"They look awesome. I do wonder, are they still alive in there?" Alex asked.

"Oh yes, very much alive. Their senses are cranked up by 1000%. This is their permanent form now. You should get many years of use out of them, or till you want to remake the restroom again." Greg laughed. "Anyway, I have to get back to my desk. I just wanted to show you the results." He then left the restroom.

"I think I will try one of them for myself." Alex spoke. He unzipped his pant and peed in one of them. As he stepped back, it flushed down the urine. "I wonder how that tasted." He laughed and walked off.

Henry felt so degraded as he watched the department head walk off after pissing in him. He wanted to be upset, but yet he put him and Ron in this predicament. Had they let themselves get fired, they would not be urinals at the current time. He could only mentally weep as every day would be the same. Multiple men coming in the restroom to use him to discard biological waste, completely unaware of the living urinal they just pissed in.

[tf-kinky]

"Huh? Oh you can't find your boyfriend? I forgot. He's these socks I've been wearing for the past week. Yeah, he lost a bet and I got to TF him for 24 hours. Unfortunately I "accidentally" deleted his human pattern from the TF app on my phone. But don't worry, he can still hear us. Heck, all his senses got massively increased by the app"

Lukes boyfriend Jay didn't expect it would be that bad. But as soon as Noah slipped him on his feet, reality set in. The pain. The sweat. The odor so bad a pile of horse shit would smell better.

Luke was pissed but didn't challenge Noah. No one ever beat Noah at anything. Luke decided to look for a new boyfriend. Jay's fate was sealed.

[johnsmithforstupidstuff]

Thinking Quickly (AI assisted)

Josh had registered with a new gym, just to be closer to his newest crush Francesco. He was an Italian student, with rich, light brown hair, toned, incredibly sexy and muscular legs and a jawline to die for. Josh knew that he wanted to be close to him, but he did not yet know how.

Josh was thinking and formulating a plan, how to find out if Francesco was even gay and if so, how to get into his pants. He walked into the locker room of his new gym and there he saw Francesco, still in his street clothes. He had already laid out his gym clothes on a bench, but was still on a phone call. Josh greeted him and made his way to his locker, opposite to Francesco. Josh looked around, could he maybe take a sock, when Francesco wasn't looking? Or what about a sweat soaked shirt? While still on the phone, Francesco took one more thing out of his gym bag and stored the empty bag back in his locker. In his hands he held a pair of grey briefs, with a slightly unpleasant odor.

After Josh saw that his plan was practically set. Francesco was walking up and down the locker room, sometimes turning away from his things. Josh looked around to make sure nobody else was watching. He stored all of his things in his locker, and waited, for Francesco to turn around again. He had to hurry, because he could hear the call coming to an end. Francesco turned away and Josh, in one smooth motion, picked up Francescos briefs from the bench, hid them in his locker and transformed himself into identical briefs.

His fabric body flopped onto the bench, onto of Francescos other gym clothes.

Josh’s fabric body flopped onto the bench, landing atop Francesco’s neatly folded gym clothes. His new form—an identical pair of grey briefs—quivered slightly as adrenaline coursed through his transformed fibers. The plan had worked flawlessly. Francesco, still pacing the locker room, wrapped up his phone call with a curt “Ciao, see you later,” and turned back toward the bench, oblivious to the switch. Josh’s heart—or whatever passed for it now—raced as Francesco’s muscular hand reached down and scooped him up.

Francesco sniffed the air briefly, his sharp brown eyes narrowing. “Weird,” he muttered, shrugging off the faint whiff of his original briefs’ odor, now tucked away in Josh’s locker. He stepped out of his street clothes, revealing his toned, powerful legs and a physique that made Josh’s fabric form practically hum with anticipation. Francesco slid Josh on, pulling the grey briefs up over his thick thighs and snugly around his hips. The sensation hit Josh like a tidal wave—Francesco’s warmth, the faint musk of his skin, and the overwhelming pressure as the briefs hugged every contour of his athletic frame.

Josh had rigged the transformation app to heighten his senses, thinking it’d make this fantasy even sweeter. Big mistake. The pleasant musk he’d imagined was magnified tenfold into a potent cocktail of sweat, skin, and a lingering hint of yesterday’s workout that Francesco clearly hadn’t washed out of his routine. Josh could taste it, feel it seeping into his fabric, and—oh god—smell it with a clarity that made his mind reel. Francesco adjusted himself, oblivious to Josh’s silent panic, and the motion crushed Josh’s transformed essence against Francesco’s hefty package, sending a jolt of dizzying sensation through him.

Francesco grabbed the rest of his gym gear from the bench: white socks, black slides, and a green hoodie. He slipped them on, leaving his shorts behind for now—apparently, he was still prepping. Josh clung to Francesco’s body, every shift of muscle a new wave of sensory overload. Francesco walked toward the locker room mirror, stopping to check himself out. There he stood: tall, broad-shouldered, his fair brown hair slightly tousled, brown eyes scanning his reflection. The green hoodie hung loosely over his torso, the white socks peeked out from the black slides, and Josh—the grey briefs—framed his lower half, stretched tight over his sculpted ass and junk.

“Looking good,” Francesco said to himself, turning slightly to admire his legs. Josh, trapped in the fabric, wanted to scream. Good for you, maybe! The pose shifted Francesco’s weight, pressing Josh tighter against his skin, and then—without warning—Francesco let out a low, rumbling fart. The gas blasted through Josh’s fibers, hot and sour, a brutal assault of Italian protein-diet stench that lodged itself deep in his being. His enhanced senses made it unbearable, the smell lingering like a cruel joke as Francesco chuckled to himself. “Whoops, too much espresso today.”

Josh’s fantasy was crumbling fast. Francesco grabbed his gym shorts and tugged them on over the briefs, sealing Josh in a suffocating layer of darkness and heat. The workout that followed was pure hell. Francesco hit the treadmill first, his powerful strides grinding Josh against his sweat-slicked skin. Every step was a thudding torment, the dampness soaking into Josh’s fabric until he was drenched. Then came the squats—Francesco’s glutes flexing and straining, crushing Josh with each rep. The sweat poured freely now, a salty flood that drowned Josh’s senses, compounded by the occasional ripple of gas Francesco didn’t bother holding back.

By the time Francesco finished, Josh was a sopping, reeking mess. Francesco stripped down in the locker room, peeling Josh off and holding him up with a grimace. “Madonna, these stink,” Francesco muttered, his brown eyes narrowing as he dangled the sweat-drenched grey briefs between two fingers. Josh’s fabric form quivered, his enhanced senses still reeling from the onslaught of sweat, musk, and those damn espresso-fueled farts. He was too dazed to process what came next.

Francesco shrugged, opened his gym bag, and tossed Josh inside. The briefs landed with a damp thud atop a pile of unwashed socks, a crusty towel, and—oh god—a pair of sneakers that reeked like they’d run a marathon in a swamp. The zipper whined shut, plunging Josh into stifling darkness. His transformation app, hidden in his locker across the room, was set to revert him in an hour—but the fine print he’d skimmed warned that the process wouldn’t trigger if he was “contained or obstructed.” Trapped in the bag, surrounded by Francesco’s rancid gym gear, Josh realized with creeping dread that he wasn’t going anywhere.

The bag jostled as Francesco slung it over his shoulder and headed out, each sway grinding Josh deeper into the sweaty heap. The heat was suffocating, the stench a relentless assault—old sweat, foot funk, and a whiff of that last fart clinging to his fibers. Josh’s mind raced, his silent screams lost in the void. What now? Francesco could toss the bag in his car, leave it in a locker, or—worst of all—forget about it entirely. Would he wash Josh? Wear him again? Or would he rot in this festering prison until the app’s battery died, leaving him stuck as briefs forever?

As Francesco’s footsteps faded down the hall, Josh was left to wonder, marinating in the unknown, his fantasy-turned-nightmare stretching into an uncertain, foul-smelling future.

[sandrakinky-academyy]

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[anon-vester]

Picture source: @benx-boss

Blain came back from practice, exhausted. When he got to his room, he found his favorite pair of sneakers and cleats were completely destroyed. He knew who had done it. He came back out into the living room where his two roommates, Trey and Van, sat looking innocent.

"Which one of you did it?" Blain asked all upset.

"Did what?" Van asked with an innocent look on his face.

"You know what?" Blain paused, still upset. "You two are always messing with me by doing something in my room to piss me off." He added.

"What did we do? We have been watching TV most of the afternoon. We haven't been in your room at all." Trey responded with the same innocent look as Van.

"I see, neither will admit this time." Blain walked back to his room. He heard both of them laughing as he closed his door. This was the last time they would play a practical joke on him in this manner. He opened up the app on his phone and came out of his room.

Blain stood in front of them. "Since my favorite pair of sneakers and cleats were ruined, I need a replacement." He then smiled and pointed this phone camera at Van. He hit the flash option. Van was instantly turned into a pair of Nike sneakers.

"Hold up, dude. It's not that serious. We were just having a little fun. We will buy you a new pair tomorrow." Trey pleaded, hoping Blain would not target him next. He saw his roommate now smiling down at him with the same expression he had towards Van. "I promise, we will buy you new sneakers and cleats." He pleaded once more. He saw the flash from the camera and his whole existence changed.

Blain saw he now had a new pair of sneakers and new cleats. He couldn't wait to try them out tomorrow. He picked them up and carried both to his room. He placed them on his shoe rack until the next day.

The following morning, Van woke up to see Blain's socked feet enter him and press down on his sole face. So far, they were a fresh pair of socks, but he knew they would not stay that way. By noon time, the socks had gotten a little sweaty and also had a musky odor to them. That sweat and musk were pressing down on his insole face with each step. It was no fun whatsoever. He mentally pleaded for Blain to change him back soon. He didn't want to stay like this forever. If he did, he would reek of his roommate's feet. That was a fate he didn't want ever.

By late afternoon, Van finally got relief as he was taken off Blain's feet and placed in a gym bag. He was glad of that, but it didn't relieve the odor that had already saturated the insides of his sneaker bodies. He reeked of musk and foot sweat. There was no escape from the horrendous odor now.

Trey begged for mercy that he feared he would not receive as Blain tried him on for practice. The socks were wet with sweat and smelled like crushed bugs. It was horrible. As Blain ran to join the other players on the field, each step felt like he was being crushed by a foul-smelling mountain.

Over the course of two and a half hours, Trey became a sweaty prison for all that musk that continued to build up on the socks. His insides absorbed all that sweat, saturating every surface his socked feet came in contact with. Absorbing all that sweat was driving him crazy. It was no fun being his practice cleats. He pleaded for Blain to forgive them, but with no mouth there was no way to convey his regret.

After practice, Blain sat on the bench in the locker room. He waited till he was all alone. "You two make great shoes. I might have to keep you longer." He paused. "Maybe forever." He laughed as he prepared for the walk back home. He was looking forward to breaking in his new pair of Nike sneakers. He had thoughts of changing them back, but it was only a brief lapse in that thought. They were way to comfortable to change back.

[anon-sect2]

can you turn me into my homophobic step brother’s jockstrap?

Picture source @joep00

It was not the perfect idea that his stepbrother Kyle came out to the family as gay. Connor saw everyone being supportive of him being open about it, but he wasn't all too happy. Yet, he decided to keep his opinion to himself. He would just keep his distance from Kyle.

The distance plan didn't work all too well for Connor as Kyle was trying to be close to his stepbrother. He never truly told him how disgusted he was with having a gay stepbrother. Sort of lied to say that he was supportive. Yet, the constant wanting to chill with him was getting annoying. He decided that there was one way to put an end to it and get something out of it at the same time.

Connor finally cave in and invited Kyle on a weekend trip in his RV to the woods. He was happy to see him accept the invitation, but Kyle wanted to bring two of his gay friends with him since he thought Connor was so supportive. He agreed they could come on the trip.

All four had fun on the drive to the spot in the woods, even though Connor was hiding his true motive. By the end of the trip, he would be returning home alone in some way.

At the end of the first day at the spot, Kyle and his two friends went to sleep soundly, not expecting anything off. Connor got up and took his TF Ray device. He went first to Kyle's friends and fired at them. He watched as they were reduced to a pair of black boots. He then went to Kyle. He had a special place for his gay stepbrother. He fired at him and watched him change into a white jockstrap. He picked up the jockstrap to examine it. It looked absolutely perfect. He then tried on his stepbrother. The jockstrap seemed comfortable to wear. Now, his gay stepbrother would see his dick for the rest of his life. He went to sleep wearing him.

Kyle woke up feeling strange. His immediate view was that of a giant dick in his face. He tried to move from it but couldn't, no matter how much he squirmed. He then heard Connor's voice above him. "Good, you awake. I can finally tell you the truth. I don't like that you are gay and wanted to keep my distance, but you wouldn't allow me. So, now this is your new fate. You are my jockstrap. You get to hang out with me for the rest of your life with my cock in your face. I won't be changing you back. And if anyone asks about you, I will tell them you left town." Connor then paused for the next few words. "As for your two friends, they are my boots. I can't have any witnesses telling what I did to you. They make good boots, though, just like you are the best jockstrap I ever owned. All three of you are mine now." Connor finished as he walked around in the RV wearing his new boots and jockstrap.

Connor didn't know his new objects loved their new life or was hating it. He got rid of three fags and gained new pair of boots and jockstrap at the same time. It was a win-win for him. It didn't matter if they loved it or not. They were his property now and simply didn't have a choice.

[tf-boi]

Can you TF me into your underwear please? I'm begging you. Let me be your underwear.

As I was working out in the gym I noticed several glances at me. "Why'd I forget to bring gym underwear?" I thought to myself as I worked out. Not wanting to sweat all over my undies while I worked out I decided to go commando. Little did I know how tight my booty shorts were, my bulge very pronounced even though I wasn't hard, my cock even slipping through at the bottom from time to time. I was considering leaving early until I caught you gazing from the corner. I was about to brush you off until I noticed you were different, you wanted MORE.

I grinned as I approached you. As I got up close to you I whispered into your ear "I need some underwear" and walked into the locker room.

After checking if we are alone we start making out inside one of the tall lockers. Despite it looking like a locker it was more of the size of a small fitting room. A bit cramped but it fit the both of us snuggly. As we made out I push you lower to my body, you kissing my body as you reach my waist. You take off my shorts and start sucking on my rock hard cock. I cover my mouth with my hand as I moaned to not alert anybody. You moved up and down my shaft like a hungry beast getting its prey, however it was actually you who will serve me. I thought of using my normal methods to TF you, however you are hobestly giving me one of the best blow jobs of my life, so I decided to try a new magic that I learned.

I snapped my fingers and your feet begin to unravel into threads. You feel the change but enjoy it so much you moaned as you are becoming threads. As the spell unravels your body it slowly wraps around my lower body starting to form underwear. As your legs disappear into threads you hold onto my legs to not fall. You moaned in bliss as your feel more of yourself unravel. As most of your chest and arms become part of me I hold onto your head and start moving it back and forth of my rocket moaning loudly in the locker. Soon your head becomes threads wrapping around me into white boxers.

"Shit. . ." I said under my breath as I start to cum off over you. My semen soaking into your new underwear body. As I finished coming I wipe some of my cum off you. "Whoops now your stuck like thia forever." I say rubbing you a bit. With the cum on you, you are now permenantly transformed into my undearwear, my semi hard cock being rubbed against you. You start to lose your memories and sense of self as all your memories get absorbed by me.

"Cock, dick, balls" the only thoughts you have as my new underwear.

I hear a vibration coming from your gym pants. I picked it up and unlocked it using the information I acquired from you. I look at the chat between you and your boyfriend.

"Babe, this hot twink is not wearing underwear at the gym! I can see his dick and balls!"

"Oooo nice you gonna make your move?"

"Yeah! I want to be his underwear so bad!"

"Be careful not to get permanently TF'd"

I chuckle as i rub my cock through you.

Then I get to your new message from your boyfriend.

"Well babe, if you do get permanently TF'd to his undies I hope he comes by and turns me into his socks so we can be his slave forever!"

I presses a few keys and snap a photo of you with cum still dripping out of you.

"Sorry bro, he's my boxers now. You actually down to be my socks?"

A few moments passes before I got a response.

"Yes please daddy! I'll be waiting!"

I put my clothes on and walk out the gym with our stuff. Time to pay your boyfriens a visit, I hate separating you two for too long.

[zipafterdark]

Office Decor -- [One Shot]

Happy Mermay to Everyone But This Guy!

Word Count: 2000 Summary: Harlan has betrayed his employer, and the consequences could leave him gasping for air.

Content: Merman Transformation, Shrunken Man, Elements of Fear

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Divider by strangergraphics

“You haven’t been very honest with me, have you Harlan?” The man behind the desk hummed, the words almost sing-song and yet still dripping with a calm, unsettling malice. “If I understand the situation correctly, you’ve been deceiving me from the start.”

“I wish you would let me explain-“

“What is there to explain, dearest? That you’ve been working here under a false identity? That I was part of some wider, undercover investigation? That you were playing a role until you could find the most opportune moment to take me down?” Mr. Price grinned at the other, as if it were all some silly little ruse or a joke that he had been aware of all along. “I don’t need an explanation from you dear, but an apology might be a good place to start.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Harlan breathed, eager to claw his way out of this however he could. “I never meant for this to go as far as it did, I never wanted to get this deep, I never intended to-…” There was an abrupt end to the sentence as the pale, gangly fool of a supposed assistant choked on his own words, reluctant to admit just how far he’d fallen into this mess…

…or worse, just how far he’d fallen for the man he was meant to be investigating.

“Mm, I suppose matters of the heart are rarely anticipated.” Price sighed, his tongue tutting a slight in feigned disapproval. “If I’m honest —and I do so love when I get the chance to be— I also had not planned on you developing the feelings you did. It was my fascination with that particular fact that kept you around this long.”

“Then you must know that I don’t intend to betray you, Friedrich. Let me prove-“

“-Oh there is absolutely nothing you can prove to me now, dearest. Your betrayal started the moment you introduced yourself, I’m afraid. You may consider me flattered, perhaps even endeared, but it will not save you.”

Harlan could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing at the very idea of what Price could do to him, and just how easily he could do it. That had always been the risk, it was something he thought he’d accepted going into this whole thing. He wasn’t so foolish as to think that going undercover and playing the role of assistant to one of the most powerful magic users in the city wasn’t going to be dangerous. Harlan was trying to link him with the disappearances of several people at this point; he had been perfectly aware that this was something he might not get to walk away from.

It was only when the unthinkable happened, when the idiot would-be journalist began to develop feelings for the man, that he began to think that he could be saved from the inevitable downfall. Price had been so charming, so kind, and had practically spoiled Harlan with attention and appreciation and little gifts and dinners since he’d arrived. The conversations had been so rich, the laughter so genuine, that life plans had started to change. Suddenly, Harlan had found himself caring less and less about frivolities like missing persons and a shot at writing the biggest story of the decade; life with Friedrich Price had been so comfortable, that it had simply become life for him.

In a perfect world, Harlan would have never been found out. In a perfect world he could continue bringing Price his morning coffee and logging his calls and appointments and everything else. In a perfect world… Price might love him back, and they could be happy.

But this was anything but a perfect world, and Harlan was well aware that his fate had already been sealed.

“I didn’t want it to be this way.” He muttered, voice cracking as he squeezed his eyes shut. Whatever the sorcerer was going to do to him, he could already feel it beginning to send deep aches through his bones. “I had hoped… I thought that maybe…”

“…Maybe what? Maybe I would think you were special? That you’d changed? That you could be trusted?” Price chuckled as he stood from his desk, suddenly looking ten feet tall without having grown an inch. “ That all the evenings we’ve enjoyed together might make me sentimental enough to spare you from the sort of fate you were here to investigate, perhaps?” His grin was wicked as he took slow, casual steps towards the shivering man seated across from him, the very one that was now refusing to look at him as the first hints of his spell began to take shape.

The deep ache in his bones persisted, now spreading through his muscles and out to his skin where it began to take the form of a dreadful, widespread itch.

“Please, I’d give anything to stay at your side, just as we were.” Harlan whimpered as he began to double over in his seat. He couldn’t bear to witness what was happening to him, to see why his bones were shifting inside of him, or why his organs needed to re-arrange themselves. It would have been nausea inducing, but his stomach was clearly occupied with other pressing matters, and his terror and sickness only manifested in the hot tears that escaped his shut eyes. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to betray you, I just want to be with you Friedrich, please grant me the chance to do so, please.”

“Shhhhh.” The older man hushed the other as he reached forward to pet at his hair. “Have some composure, sweet Harlan. You’re not going to die, and I’m not going to send you away.”

The cracking and shifting of bone in Harlan’s legs told a different story, but still he wanted to believe it.

“You’re not?” he squeaked, daring to open his eyes and look up at the predator he managed to fall in love with — a tall, dark, well dressed man with stark black hair and eyes that could make you swoon on sight. Even now, as Harlan felt himself under the effects of wicked magic, as Price grew larger and more terrifying as he loomed over him, he could not help but appreciate the beauty of those damned eyes.

“Of course not. I enjoy you far too much to do away with you entirely.” The monster cooed, his petting hand trailing gently down Harlan’s shrinking face until he could tilt his chin with the tips of his fingers. “I’m going to be keeping you very close, somewhere I can admire you as often as I wish.”

Friedrich Price had no fangs, but you would have a hard time believing it when faced with the grin he was wearing now.

It might have been enough to petrify Harlan, to cause his very heart to stop and ice over in horror for at least some moments, had it not been for the exquisite and novel pain that had spread over the whole of his body. For the first time since the spell had taken hold, Harlan dared to tear his eyes away from Price to look at himself, though the sight was no less terrifying.

Not only was he already well under half the size he’d been before, he was finding that a significant portion of himself was covered in deep blue scales that might have been beautiful had they any business crawling up his chest and down his arms, revealing more and more of themselves as his giant clothes began to pool around him in the seat. At the ends of his arms he witnessed clawed fingers elongating before him with a translucent webbing growing up between each digit, and along his sides he could see spines and fins of a similar deep red pushing through skin and scales.

None of this, however, could compare to the pain and terror of his own legs. Most of the hurt had been centered there, and it was easy to see why; not only where they covered in scales, not only had they stretched and thinned and twisted his dwindling feet to strange sideways angles, but it was clear that they were starting to merge.

He was turning into a small mer-creature, or something like it.

A cry, almost animal in its pure primal nature, escaped him as the reality of it all hammered into him with each wave of excruciating pain. It was simply too much to handle, to much to even think of for very long, and yet he was powerless to stop it, much less reverse it.

“Please, Friedrich.” He sobbed, looking up at man as he seemed to get further and further away. “I’ll do anything, I’ll repay you in a million ways, please don’t do this.“

“But you’re truly so very lucky Harlan. You do know that, don’t you?” Price laughed as he bent down, not wanting to miss a detail of his assistant’s fate. “Generally when someone upsets me like this, they become the seed I give my birds or little bugs I set loose into the big wide world, and those are just the speakable ones. Why, you’ll practically be living a life of luxury by comparison.”

Harlan’s neck was burning as though white hot knives were carving into his skin, but still he did what he could to look into the massive, terrifying, beautiful eyes of the man who was currently destroying his life.

There were no sounds, no pleas, no apologies or curses; the man who had centered his life around his words suddenly found himself at a loss. There were simply none to be had.

There was only terror.

There was only pain.

There was only Friedrich Price.

And Friedrich Price knew it.

“It’s more than a sneak like you deserves, but I think it’ll do the trick.” He grinned, “After all, Harlan, this is a punishment, and a good one I think for self reflection.”

A large hand, the same that had so recently pet at his hair and tilted his chin, now descended upon him like an unthinkable entity. He plucked the tiny merman from the seat he was stuck on between his thumb and forefinger, holding him at eye level as he straightened his posture, a look of wretched satisfaction written across his face like the world’s most horrifying billboard.

Not that Harlan could take it in, not while he writhed and wiggled and flailed around in the giant’s grasp, completely uncoordinated with the new appendage that made up his lower half. The burning cuts in his neck had split open, and suddenly Harlan found himself struggling to breathe. It was as though each lungful of air was only giving him  half of what he needed, leaving him gasping between sobs and attempted screams.

“And I really to want you to think on what it took to get us here, you understand?” Price hummed, the singsong tone returning to his voice as he crossed the room to one of the many elaborate aquariums that filled the office. “Every lie, every risk, everything you had to coordinate to not only maintain the ruse, but to even get as far as you did. I want you to ruminate on every single step it took for you to get here Harlan…”

He paused at the tank, the pathetic little fish of a man still wiggling uncontrollably between his fingers.

“…They’ll be the last ones you ever take.”

In a flash of an instant he was splashing down into the tank, enveloped by the cold water that would now be his home. He wanted to hate it, he wanted to feel uncomfortable or ill or something, but the terrible truth was that he couldn’t.

He would need the relief that his brand new prison provided, and he could do nothing but try to hide himself from those beautiful eyes just outside of the glass.

The newest resident in a vast aquarium.

[anon-sect]

Picture source: @sockguyny

Carl sat on the bus next to his best friend, Mike, on the debate team. They had won the competition. The team that won the last five years had to forfeit because two of their teammates had vanished. They didn't have the numbers to stay in the competition. The biggest challenger was removed, so it was an easy way to victory.

"What do you think we should do about our socks now that we won?" Mike asked Carl.

Carl laid his head back and grinned. "It doesn't matter, but I think we should keep them. The bus is pulling off anyway. We don't have time to change them back and give them back to their teammates." He suggested, not wanting to change his socks back to normal.

"Do you think they like being on our feet?" Mike asked, wiggling his toes.

"That too doesn't matter. No one ever asked if their socks like being on their feet. That is a sock's purpose, to be worn." Carl smirked. "And it's their purpose now." He added.

[ragtortf]

Some of us just want a simpler life.

[tf-kinky]

"There's almost nothing better than turning a guys boyfriend into shoes and his brother into socks and making him huff them both, immediately deciding he doesn't want either of them back. The betrayal his boyfriend must be feeling at his boyfriend huffing his insole form, and the disbelief his brother is feeling right now"

Noah laughed and enjoyed the guy huffing his boyfriend and brother a lot, totally addicted to what Noah did to his boyfriend and brother.

"Thats it, keep huffing your ex and your brother that's it. Good foot whore"

[johnsmithforstupidstuff]

Trapped in the Briefs

“You’re in for it now, Mark. You always complained about my smell, and now you’re going to get a front-row seat,” grinned Ethan, holding the transformation gun. Before Mark could react, Ethan zapped him, and Mark felt his body contort and shrink until he was nothing but Ethan’s tight, musky Gymshark briefs.

Ethan pulled the briefs on, trapping Mark in the suffocating fabric. The smell was overpowering—sweat, musk, and an unbearable staleness filled Mark’s senses. To make matters worse, Mark’s senses were heightened after the transformation. Every smell, touch, and sensation was intensified. “Oh, by the way, I made sure your senses are super sensitive now. Enjoy!” Ethan chuckled.

Ethan, who was dairy intolerant, made sure to consume a large amount of dairy and protein right after putting on Mark. The effect was immediate and brutal. As the day went on, every movement was torture for Mark. The heat, the pressure, and the constant friction were relentless. But the worst was yet to come. Ethan smirked, adjusting his waistband. “Better hold your breath, if you can.”

Without warning, Ethan let out a loud fart, the rancid smell seeping through the fabric and into Mark’s very being. The odor was nauseating, and there was no escape. Ethan made sure to keep consuming dairy products throughout the day, ensuring a steady stream of gas.

Ethan didn’t stop there. It was the middle of summer, and he decided to go for an intense workout session at the gym. The sweat poured off him, soaking into the briefs. Mark was overwhelmed by the combined assault of sweat, musk, and the relentless farting.

Ethan didn’t bother showering after his workout. He wore Mark all day, and by the end, the briefs were soaked with sweat and reeked horribly. The constant sweating and gas attacks were unbearable for Mark.

As night fell, Ethan stripped off the briefs and tossed them carelessly into the laundry hamper. “By the way, you’re going to stay that way for the whole summer,” he laughed. “See you tomorrow, Mark.”

Mark was left to endure the suffocating darkness, dreading the torment that awaited him for the rest of the summer.

[matsmi13]

From Shadow to Utility

For six long years, Louis had held an administrative position within an organization dedicated to professional integration. His days unfolded like a litany of repetitive tasks: opening files, filling out forms, answering the phone. Each action was performed with mechanical precision, every minute meticulously planned. Yet, behind this well-oiled routine lay a deep sense of invisibility.

Officially, he was "helping" others. Yet every evening, as he stepped into his silent apartment, he questioned whether his own life had any meaning. He consumed bland meals in front of a television turned on more out of habit than genuine interest, before collapsing onto his bed. There, in the darkness, a question haunted him, one he scarcely dared to articulate: "Is this really what it means to live ?" A life dictated by routine, where days blurred into one another in a despairing inertia, like a stagnant river refusing to find its course.

------

One evening, after an especially grueling day, Louis left his office. A fine rain fell, draping the city in a gray veil. But instead of heading toward his apartment, he let his feet carry him aimlessly, as if his body was instinctively searching for an escape from his suffocating routine.

He walked for hours, passing through familiar neighborhoods and then into others he had never explored. Gradually, modern buildings gave way to dilapidated structures. The walls were covered in graffiti, and broken windows stared down at the street like vacant, silent eyes.

A burst of laughter shattered the heavy calm. Intrigued, Louis turned a corner into a dimly lit alley. Under a flickering streetlamp, a group of young people gathered, carefree despite the rain. Standing apart from them, leaning against a wall, was a man. Unlike the others, he didn’t move. His posture radiated an unusual authority, and his shiny tracksuit, glistening in the rain, seemed to catch all the light.

“You lost or something ?” the man asked in a deep voice.

Louis froze, startled. “Uh… No, I mean… Maybe.”

The man smirked, a mix of disdain and curiosity. “This place isn’t for guys like you. What are you looking for ?”

Louis lowered his eyes, fumbling for words. Everything in him screamed that he didn’t belong here, yet some inexplicable force held him in place. In a desperate moment, he looked up. “I’m looking… for something else. A different life. I don’t want this empty existence anymore. I want… I want to matter, to feel alive, to be indispensable.”

The man raised an eyebrow, amused. “Change ? But what are you willing to give up for it ?” He asked, stepping forward, his tone almost taunting.

A heavy silence hung between them. Louis took a deep breath. When he finally spoke, his voice wavered, but a newfound resolve underpinned it : “Everything”.

The man stepped closer, his presence commanding and unyielding. “Everything ? Easy to say. But you’ve never risked anything in your life, have you ? That’s why you feel so empty.”

Each word struck Louis like a slap.

“If you had the chance to change everything, your life, your body, even the memory of who you are, what would you say ? ”

A chilling shiver ran down Louis’s spine. The thought terrified him, but he knew he couldn’t keep living as he had been. In a barely audible whisper, he replied : “I’d say yes”

The man straightened, clearly pleased. “Alright, then. Let’s see. Follow me.”

------

They entered a decrepit building. The lobby reeked of damp concrete, the dim light casting long shadows across peeling walls.

The man stopped in the center of the hall, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a device. Its shape vaguely resembled a weapon, but it emitted a strange, electric hum that seemed to vibrate through the air.

“What is that ?” Louis asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

The man gave an enigmatic smile. “A solution to your wish. You wanted to be useful, right ? Then stand still.”

Louis hesitated, but something in the man’s gaze froze him in place. It wasn’t fear. It was a strange, magnetic authority that made retreat impossible. Before he could voice another question, the device was activated.

A beam of cold light swept over Louis, scanning him from head to toe. He felt an unfamiliar sensation ripple through his body : A tingling that grew into an unbearable intensity, his muscles twitching as though dissolving. He tried to move, but he was completely paralyzed.

Louis’s eyes widened in horror as he looked down at his hands. What he saw froze him in terror. His skin, once warm and organic, began to change. It lost its human texture, becoming smooth, uniform, almost synthetic—like fabric stretched taut.

“What’s happening to me ? What are you doing ?” he stammered, panic rising in his voice.

The man remained eerily calm, his tone almost reassuring. “Relax, bro. You’re becoming what you wanted to be: useful.”

Louis’s limbs stiffened, his breathing slowed, and he felt as though his body was draining of everything that made it alive. His flesh unraveled into threads, intertwining and morphing into a flexible, elastic material. His mind screamed in terror, but no sound escaped his lips.

Then the real horror began : his thoughts started to dissolve. Memories, emotions, every fragment of his identity was systematically erased. The doubts, the regrets, even the concept of who he was faded into an unsettling void.

When the transformation ended, there was no trace of Louis left on the cold, tiled floor. In his place lay a crumpled gray tracksuit, lifeless and motionless.

The man crouched down, picked up the garment, and inspected it with a satisfied grin.

“Welcome to your new life bro” he murmured. “You wanted to be useful, didn’t you ? Now you are. You’re perfect. Just a tracksuit. A piece of clothing serves its purpose every day, everywhere. No need to be seen, no need to exist to matter. Just be there, ready for use. Now, you’re with me, wherever I go.”

He rolled up the tracksuit and tucked it into a gym bag. Without a backward glance, the man straightened and walked out of the building, disappearing into the fine drizzle of rain.

------

Outside, the rain continued to fall, its droplets streaking the sidewalks and splashing against his sneakers with every step. He walked at an unhurried pace, his shoulders relaxed, the gym bag swaying gently at his side.

A few streets away, the others were waiting at the usual spot—a bench under a flickering streetlight.

“Took your sweet time ?” called out a guy in a gray hoodie as he saw him approach. “Where were you ?”

“Yeah, we thought you disappeared with that other dude” added another guy in a black cap, slouched on the bench. “Speaking of which, where is he ?”

“Disappeared ? Nah, not at all” the man in the tracksuit replied casually. He dropped the gym bag onto the wet ground with a dull thud, crouched down, and unzipped it. “The other guy? He’s right here”

He reached into the bag and tugged lightly at a sleeve.

A low whistle escaped one of the guys.

A heavy silence hung in the air for a moment.

Then one of them burst out laughing. “No way ! Are you serious ?” he said, standing up from the bench, his eyes wide. “You really did that ?”

“Yeah” the man shrugged, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “He said he wanted a ‘new life,’ didn’t he? Well, he’s got one now.”

The others roared with laughter. Not one of them protested. Not one demanded an explanation.

“Oh, man, the poor guy” chuckled the one in the black cap. “He wanted to ‘change,’ but he didn’t exactly say into what ! And look at it ! brand new ! Smooth, clean...”

“Honestly, it’s better for him this way” the man in the tracksuit added, tucking the sleeve back into the bag and zipping it shut. “At least now he’s useful.”

“Totally” agreed the guy in the black cap. “What was he doing before anyway ? Always whining. ‘My life sucks,’ ‘I’m tired of it,’ blah blah blah. Well, now he’s got a real purpose!”

“Exactly” said the man in the tracksuit, crossing his arms. “Some people spend their whole lives trying to find their place. His? It’s right here, in this bag. And guess what? He’s not going anywhere.”

The laughter erupted again, crude and unfiltered. For them, the logic was simple : You’re either useful, or you become useful.

“So, when are you gonna put him on ?” asked the guy in the hoodie.

The man in the tracksuit shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face. “Nah, it’s raining and he’s still ‘fresh.’ Gonna keep him warm for now. Don’t worry. He’ll get his turn.”

“Haha, yeah, keep him clean” added the one in the cap. “A piece like that? You gotta take care of it. Trust me, it’ll fit like a glove when you’re ready. A good tracksuit never lets you down.”

The conversation shifted after that, moving on to other trivial topics.

The bag itself sat still near the bench, looking like any other gym bag. But if someone had listened closely, they might have heard a faint rustling, the subtle sound of fabric shifting ever so slightly. A tension, almost imperceptible, that only silence could reveal.

The man in the tracksuit glanced down at the bag, a faint smirk curling his lips.

“See ?” he muttered. “You should’ve kept quiet bro. But hey, you’re better off now. You wanted to change, didn’t you ? Well, you’ve changed.”

He crossed his arms and let his gaze wander down the empty street, his friends’ chatter fading into the background.

“At least now you’ve got a place. No more excuses, no more ‘I don’t know what to do.’ You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Useful. Invisible. Always ready.”

-----

A few days later, the man in the tracksuit pulled the garment from his bag, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Louis no longer existed, not as a man. He had become this flawless piece of clothing, ready to serve its purpose.

The man held it up with a sense of pride, examining the smooth, perfect fabric under the dim light. Slowly, he slipped his arms into the sleeves, adjusting each one with care. The material clung to him, molding to his body like a second skin. Next, he pulled on the pants, ensuring the fit was just right, the fabric draping neatly over his hips and legs.

He stood in front of the mirror, turning side to side, admiring the seamless ensemble. A smirk played on his lips as he pulled out his phone, angling it just so to take a selfie. The shot captured him perfectly: his new tracksuit gleaming under the light, paired with his crisp TN sneakers.

“Perfect” he muttered, his voice low and smug. “Finally useful. Finally in your place ”

Outside, life carried on as usual. The rain had stopped, and the streets were busy with people going about their routines. The man walked through the crowd, blending in effortlessly. To anyone watching, he was just another guy in a tracksuit, nothing out of the ordinary.

Yet every step he took felt deliberate. The fabric moved with him, adapting to his body as if it had always been a part of him. No discomfort, no awkward folds. Just perfection.

Louis was there, quiet and unseen, but undeniably functional. For the first time, he was exactly what he’d always wanted to be : Be useful.

-----

Louis was no longer a man. He was fabric, fibers, and seams. Each thread, each strand had a purpose, a role to play. This was his new reality. No more questions, no more internal struggles. He was no longer human. He was a tracksuit, perfectly crafted to fulfill its function.

Louis stretched, and moved with the man, adapting seamlessly to his every motion. He had become an extension of him, a simple layer of material between the man's skin and the outside world.

The warmth of the human body transferred to the fabric, more and more intensely as the effort increased. Sweat began to bead on the man’s skin, and Louis, now inanimate, absorbed it without hesitation. Each drop, each trace of perspiration soaked into him, the texture of the fabric imperceptibly changing with the contact. There was no discomfort, no resistance. Sweat was no longer an unpleasant sensation; it was part of his purpose. Each droplet slid over him, vanishing into the fibers designed for this exact task.

Louis moistened himself, and the man’s body heat enveloped it, oppressive but entirely functional. Louis felt every movement, every gesture. The bottom of the tracksuit, taut over the man’s legs, hugged each stride, each step. It remained in constant contact with his skin, absorbing the energy of every motion. It stretched, tightened, and moved with the fluidity of action. Louis felt useful, and in that feeling, he found fulfillment.

The man paused for a moment, and Louis silently registered the pressure of his hands on his thighs, fingers gently gripping the fabric. With every movement, the tracksuit responded without sound, smoothing, stretching, adapting.

When the man started to run, the sensation shifted again. The heat intensified, and sweat poured more freely, soaking into the fabric. As a tracksuit, Louis absorbed it all—the moisture, the warmth, ensuring that nothing irritated the man’s skin. He became a vessel for this perspiration, containing it, holding it within himself, all while remaining entirely at the man’s service. With every breath the man took, every movement that grew sharper and faster, Louis stretched a little further, perfectly conforming to the contours of this body with unwavering loyalty.

The heat, the sweat, the contact. This was all Louis knew now. He didn’t think about what he had become. He had no doubts, no regrets. All he felt was the constant presence of the man against him, a pressure he absorbed, a movement he followed, never ceasing. The sweat became his new texture, an organic extension of his existence. It weighed him down, bringing him closer to his purpose. He was made for this: to absorb, to hold, to endure. It wasn’t a burden; it was his role. A tracksuit that served, that helped, that allowed itself to be worn.

At the end of the day, the man, exhausted, returned home. Louis felt the transition, the return to stillness. The fabric relaxed slightly, settling into the man’s folds.

Louis was simply a garment, and in that simplicity, he found his reason for being. He was useful. He had a purpose. He was perfect in his new form, exactly as he was meant to be. Nothing more.

[sandrakinky-academyy]

Reblog and send Mommy a dm for your enrollment to be completely feminized and dressed up as one of the girls in uniform,sissy👙👗 @sandrakinky-academyy

Telegram @Mommy_Sandra01

[anon-sect2]

Picture source: Instagram account @usedshoes2

Reid had heard that twin brothers were recently hired on the floor he worked on in the company. He was curious if they were identical or just look similar. He hoped he would meet them soon to find out. While at his cubicle, he heard they had just left the supervisor's office. He got up to greet them and to make them welcome. As he approached them, he received the shock of his life.

Dean and Dylan looked up to see someone coming towards them. The face was instantly recognizable. "Book nose Reid." Dylan said without thinking it. "Wow, didn't know you work here." Dean added as they both approached him.

Reid had hoped never to see these two ever again in his life. They made is high school years a nightmare until they graduated a year before him. They were two athletic jocks on the football team back then. They always picked on him because he would usually be reading on break or at lunch. He hated that nickname they called him, and they knew it. "Good to see you two. It's been a long time since high school. Welcome to the company." He spoke in cordial tone, hiding his disgust to see them again. He promised himself he would be professional.

"Good to see you, too, Book nose Reid." Dean spoke back as they both walked away.

Reid could hear them snickering about him as they walked off. They still had an athletic body just like they did in high school. He was just average built. He would just have to ignore their comments and act professional since they were now his coworkers.

One month later, Reid felt like his high school days thanks to his new coworkers. Just about every day, those two made it a goal to call him that ridiculous nickname just to annoy him. They would sometime mess with his workspace to bother him. He didn't want things to end up like they were in high school. And he wasn't about to either. He was going to humble both of them at the same time. He was just waiting for the right opportunity to do so.

A few days later, Reid saw both Dylan and Dean in the breakroom by themselves. He walked in.

"What's up, Book nose Reid." Dylan spoke up, smiling back at him.

"Read any good nerd books recently?" Dean asked and laughed back.

Reid pulled out his phone and opened up the TF Pro Max app. He had the setting preset when the time came. He hit the flash and watched as both of them vanished. On the floor was a pair of brand-new boots where they once stood. He picked up the boots and went back to his cubicle to work. He placed the boots in a bag at this desk. He couldn't wait to try them on when he got home.

Dylan didn't know what happened to him. At one point, he was picking on Reid and the next he found himself immobile. He couldn't even speak. His body had a new shape. His view was limited as to seeing what was going on around him. He felt someone pick him up and carry him somewhere. He was then deposited into a dark place afterwards. He was curious as to what happened to him.

Dean tried to scream but had no voice. He tried to move but lack the ability to do so. He remembers seeing the flash from Reid's phone and then everything changed. His new reality was strange. HIs whole body felt different. He then found himself being placed in darkness by whoever picked him up. He wondered what happened to Dylan.

Reid got home that afternoon and unpacked his new boots. "You two used to torment me in high school. Then you come to work at my job and started that crap again." He paused. "Not this time. Now it's my turn to have some fun at your expense. I turned you both into boots for my feet. I will wear you for a while at least. I may turn you back and I might not. It's my choice and not yours." He added with a laugh.

Dylan and Dean were mortified at their fate. They didn't want to be Reid's shoes, let alone literally be under his feet. They mentally pleaded for mercy.

Reid put on his new boots to do a walk around the neighborhood. He loved the level of comfort the boots provided. The insoles felt soft and supportive under his feet. The boots themselves were a perfect fit. They weren't tight on his feet and yet they weren't loose either. He walked around the room for a bit to test them. Each step felt good under his feet. He proceeded to leave his house for a nice peaceful walk around the neighborhood.

Dean was screaming in agony under the pressure. Each step was like a thousand knives attacking his nervous system all at once. The slightly foul stench of the sock made it even worse. Sometimes, Reid would scratch his toes on his insole face while walking. He felt so humiliated and degraded. He was being walked on like a common boot. He was a person and yet Reid was literally treating him like footwear and nothing more. He mentally begged for Reid to forgive him and his brother for what they did to him in high school and on the job. He didn't want to be like this forever.

Dylan was mentally crying for mercy. He had never felt such pain before. Being a boot was the absolute worse. The one wearing him is feeling comfort while he was being tormented by his foot. The sock stink horribly to him. And to have it crushing his insole face over and over was terrible. He now wished he was nicer to Reid. He didn't expect him to do this to them. He really hoped that Reid would have a heart and show mercy. He would be much nicer to him if he made them back to normal again, he promised himself.

An hour and a half later, Reid returned back home. He loved his walk. His feet felt so good. The twins made an excellent pair of new boots. He opened up his app and deleted the revert data. They were now permanently his footwear. He honestly didn't care about that since shoes don't have a say in life. They belong to whoever is wearing them. If they do wear out, he would just toss them way in the trash like normal shoes. There was no need to have feeling for shoes once they served their purpose.

Reid took off his boots. "Just to let you know. I deleted your revert data in the app. This is now your permanent form. I am thinking about keeping you forever though. My feet could always use a pair of losers to keep them comfortable." He laughed at his boots.

Dylan and Dean now regretted the torment they caused Reid.