tf virus pt. 6
Giantess/Transformation Short Stories
chapter 7
by
copier
· original author:
lifesaver
The sound of the front door opening stirred you from your restless thoughts. Hours had passed since Charlotte left, and the drawer had become your entire world—dark, suffocating, and eerily quiet. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even shift your weight. All you could do was wait.
Her footsteps echoed through the house, growing louder as she approached the bedroom. She was humming, a carefree tune that suggested her mood had lifted considerably since she’d left. Her voice carried through the door as she muttered to herself, “God, I needed that. I feel so much better now.”
The drawer creaked open suddenly, the harsh light flooding your senses and making you squint. Charlotte peered down at you, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Well, well, look who’s still here. How’s my favorite thong doing?”
You blinked up at her, unsure whether to feel relieved or annoyed. “I’m… fine, I guess. Just… stuck here.”
She chuckled, reaching in to pluck you from the pile. Her fingers brushed against your fabric—your skin—and you shivered at the sensation. She held you up, inspecting you as though you were a piece of clothing she was considering purchasing. “You know, you’re actually kind of cute like this. I mean, I wouldn’t have picked you out of a lineup before, but now that you’re… well, thong-shaped, you’re growing on me.”
You groaned, your face burning with humiliation. “Charlotte, could you not? This is already weird enough.”
She giggled, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, come on, Oliver. You’ve got to admit, it’s kind of funny. I mean, look at you!” She held you out at arm’s length, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re literally a piece of my underwear. How is that not hilarious?”
You wanted to argue, to demand she take this seriously, but the words caught in your throat. How could you possibly make her understand when even you were struggling to accept this new reality? Instead, you sighed, defeated. “I guess it’s a little funny… from your perspective.”
“Exactly!” She beamed, clearly pleased with your reluctant agreement. “See? You’re getting it. Now, let’s get you out of this drawer. I’ve been thinking about you all day, and I’ve got some fun plans for us.”
She carried you to the bed, setting you down gently before stepping back to admire her handiwork. Her hands went to her hips, and she tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you actually look good in my collection. Like, really good. I might have to start wearing you!”
Your stomach churned at the thought. “Charlotte, I don’t think… I mean, I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
She waved a hand dismissively, her confidence unshakable. “Oh, stop being such a worrywart. It’ll be fine. You’re my husband, after all. It’s not like I’m going to toss you in the wash or anything.” She paused, her grin widening. “Unless you really piss me off.”
You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That’s… reassuring.”
She giggled again, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Relax, Oliver. I’m just teasing. Mostly.” She flopped down onto the bed beside you, propping herself up on one elbow. “So, tell me, how’s it been in there with the other thongs? Have you been gossiping? Or is it more of a stoic silence thing?”
You groaned, burying your face in your fabric. “Charlotte, please.”
“What? I’m just curious! I mean, you’re down there with them all day. Surely you’ve gotten to know each other. I bet they’ve got some wild stories. Like, what’s the worst day at work for a thong? Is it swamp ass? Or is it when I’ve been farting all day? That’s got to be rough.”
She was laughing now, her shoulders shaking with mirth, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of humiliation. It was one thing to be stuck in this situation, but another entirely to be the butt of her jokes. Literally.
“Charlotte,” you said, your voice low, “I know you’re trying to make light of this, but it’s… it’s a lot for me. I mean, I’m literally a thong now. This isn’t exactly how I pictured my life.”
Her laughter faded, and for a moment, she looked genuinely contrite. “I know, Oliver. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know how else to handle this. It’s so weird, you know? I mean, one day you’re my husband, and the next you’re… well, this. I’m trying to make the best of it, but I guess I’m not doing a great job.”
Her honesty caught you off guard, and you found yourself softening. “It’s okay, Charlotte. I get it. I’m just… trying to adjust, I guess.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing against you again. “You’re doing better than I would in your position. I mean, I’d probably be throwing a fit if I were stuck in a drawer all day.”
You managed a weak smile, though it felt strange given your current form. “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly have much of a choice.”
She hesitated, her expression shifting to something more serious. “Oliver… I’m sorry if I’ve been making you feel bad. I don’t want you to think I’m not taking this seriously. It’s just… I don’t know how to process this. You’re my husband, and I love you, but… this is so weird.”
You nodded, understanding her struggle even as you wrestled with your own. “I know, Charlotte. It is weird. For both of us. But… we’ll figure it out. Together.”
She smiled, her eyes softening with affection. “Together,” she echoed, her voice warm.
For a moment, the weight of the situation seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile sense of connection. But then her grin returned, mischievous and unrelenting. “So, about that swamp ass…”
You groaned, rolling your eyes—or at least trying to. “Charlotte, I swear…”
She laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in days, you felt something other than despair. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“Alright, alright,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “No more swamp ass jokes. For now, anyway.” She leaned in, her lips brushing against your fabric in what felt like a kiss. “But seriously, Oliver… I’m glad you’re still here. Even if you are a thong.”
You sighed, shaking your head. “Glad to be here, Charlotte. Even if I am a thong.”
Her footsteps echoed through the house, growing louder as she approached the bedroom. She was humming, a carefree tune that suggested her mood had lifted considerably since she’d left. Her voice carried through the door as she muttered to herself, “God, I needed that. I feel so much better now.”
The drawer creaked open suddenly, the harsh light flooding your senses and making you squint. Charlotte peered down at you, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Well, well, look who’s still here. How’s my favorite thong doing?”
You blinked up at her, unsure whether to feel relieved or annoyed. “I’m… fine, I guess. Just… stuck here.”
She chuckled, reaching in to pluck you from the pile. Her fingers brushed against your fabric—your skin—and you shivered at the sensation. She held you up, inspecting you as though you were a piece of clothing she was considering purchasing. “You know, you’re actually kind of cute like this. I mean, I wouldn’t have picked you out of a lineup before, but now that you’re… well, thong-shaped, you’re growing on me.”
You groaned, your face burning with humiliation. “Charlotte, could you not? This is already weird enough.”
She giggled, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, come on, Oliver. You’ve got to admit, it’s kind of funny. I mean, look at you!” She held you out at arm’s length, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re literally a piece of my underwear. How is that not hilarious?”
You wanted to argue, to demand she take this seriously, but the words caught in your throat. How could you possibly make her understand when even you were struggling to accept this new reality? Instead, you sighed, defeated. “I guess it’s a little funny… from your perspective.”
“Exactly!” She beamed, clearly pleased with your reluctant agreement. “See? You’re getting it. Now, let’s get you out of this drawer. I’ve been thinking about you all day, and I’ve got some fun plans for us.”
She carried you to the bed, setting you down gently before stepping back to admire her handiwork. Her hands went to her hips, and she tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you actually look good in my collection. Like, really good. I might have to start wearing you!”
Your stomach churned at the thought. “Charlotte, I don’t think… I mean, I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
She waved a hand dismissively, her confidence unshakable. “Oh, stop being such a worrywart. It’ll be fine. You’re my husband, after all. It’s not like I’m going to toss you in the wash or anything.” She paused, her grin widening. “Unless you really piss me off.”
You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That’s… reassuring.”
She giggled again, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Relax, Oliver. I’m just teasing. Mostly.” She flopped down onto the bed beside you, propping herself up on one elbow. “So, tell me, how’s it been in there with the other thongs? Have you been gossiping? Or is it more of a stoic silence thing?”
You groaned, burying your face in your fabric. “Charlotte, please.”
“What? I’m just curious! I mean, you’re down there with them all day. Surely you’ve gotten to know each other. I bet they’ve got some wild stories. Like, what’s the worst day at work for a thong? Is it swamp ass? Or is it when I’ve been farting all day? That’s got to be rough.”
She was laughing now, her shoulders shaking with mirth, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of humiliation. It was one thing to be stuck in this situation, but another entirely to be the butt of her jokes. Literally.
“Charlotte,” you said, your voice low, “I know you’re trying to make light of this, but it’s… it’s a lot for me. I mean, I’m literally a thong now. This isn’t exactly how I pictured my life.”
Her laughter faded, and for a moment, she looked genuinely contrite. “I know, Oliver. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know how else to handle this. It’s so weird, you know? I mean, one day you’re my husband, and the next you’re… well, this. I’m trying to make the best of it, but I guess I’m not doing a great job.”
Her honesty caught you off guard, and you found yourself softening. “It’s okay, Charlotte. I get it. I’m just… trying to adjust, I guess.”
She reached out, her fingers brushing against you again. “You’re doing better than I would in your position. I mean, I’d probably be throwing a fit if I were stuck in a drawer all day.”
You managed a weak smile, though it felt strange given your current form. “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly have much of a choice.”
She hesitated, her expression shifting to something more serious. “Oliver… I’m sorry if I’ve been making you feel bad. I don’t want you to think I’m not taking this seriously. It’s just… I don’t know how to process this. You’re my husband, and I love you, but… this is so weird.”
You nodded, understanding her struggle even as you wrestled with your own. “I know, Charlotte. It is weird. For both of us. But… we’ll figure it out. Together.”
She smiled, her eyes softening with affection. “Together,” she echoed, her voice warm.
For a moment, the weight of the situation seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile sense of connection. But then her grin returned, mischievous and unrelenting. “So, about that swamp ass…”
You groaned, rolling your eyes—or at least trying to. “Charlotte, I swear…”
She laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in days, you felt something other than despair. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“Alright, alright,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “No more swamp ass jokes. For now, anyway.” She leaned in, her lips brushing against your fabric in what felt like a kiss. “But seriously, Oliver… I’m glad you’re still here. Even if you are a thong.”
You sighed, shaking your head. “Glad to be here, Charlotte. Even if I am a thong.”
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March 28, 2025
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