tf virus ch. 15
Giantess/Transformation Short Stories
chapter 17
by
copier
· original author:
lifesaver
The laundry basket was a prison of fabric, each piece carrying the faint scent of Charlotte’s daily life. Her thongs, socks, and bras lay tangled around you, their soft textures a cruel mockery of the intimacy you once shared. The air was thick with the stale aroma of her sweat, a heavy miasma that clung to your senses. You could still feel the ghost of her skin against you, the way her body had molded you to her curves earlier that day. Now, you were just another piece of laundry, forgotten in the dim light of the bathroom.
Hours ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. You could hear Charlotte moving about the house, her footsteps muffled by the carpet. The distant hum of the television drifted through the walls, punctuated by her occasional laughter. She sounded so casual, so carefree, as though her world hadn’t been turned upside down. You wanted to scream, to remind her that you were still you, that you were trapped in this absurd form, but all you could do was listen.
Her voice carried from the living room as she chatted on the phone with a friend. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” she said, her tone light and playful. You strained to hear more, desperate for any connection to her, but the words were too faint. She was living her life, moving through her day as though nothing had changed. And why wouldn’t she? To her, you were just a thong now, a piece of clothing to be worn and washed. The thought twisted in your gut, a sharp reminder of your new reality.
The sunlight streaming through the bathroom window began to fade, replaced by the soft glow of the evening. You lay there, surrounded by the remnants of her day, each piece of fabric a testament to the life she continued to live. Your life, the one you had shared with her, felt like a distant memory. The ache of longing was almost unbearable, a constant throb in your chest as you wished for just a moment of her attention.
Finally, the sound of her footsteps approached, growing louder with each passing second. Your heart leapt, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. Was she coming back for you? Would she finally acknowledge you, treat you like the man you still were inside? The door creaked open, and there she stood, her towering frame silhouetted against the soft light of the hallway.
“Okay, babe, sorry to keep you waiting,” she said casually, reaching into the basket. Her tone was so nonchalant, so dismissive, that it felt like a punch to the gut. She grabbed the pile of laundry, including you, as though you were nothing more than a load of dirty clothes. The world tilted as she lifted the basket, your surroundings blurring into a whirl of color and motion.
Before you could protest, before you could even process what was happening, she dumped the contents into the washing machine. The cold metal of the drum pressed against you, the scent of detergent filling your senses. You were going to be washed, just like her other intimates, just like any other piece of fabric. The thought was humiliating, a stark reminder of how far you’d fallen.
Charlotte’s voice carried over the sound of the machine as she closed the lid. “Hope you don’t mind the spin cycle,” she said with a teasing laugh, as though this were all some kind of joke. You wanted to scream, to beg her to stop, but all you could do was lie there, trapped in the suffocating darkness.
The machine roared to life, the water sloshing around you as the cycle began. The fabric of her other clothes pressed against you, their damp weight a constant reminder of your new existence. The scent of her sweat mingled with the detergent, a nauseating combination that made your head spin. You were just a thong now, nothing more, nothing less. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, crushing the last remnants of hope you had been clinging to.
As the machine rumbled on, jostling you with every spin, you couldn’t help but think about the life you had lost. The life you had shared with Charlotte, the moments of intimacy and connection that were now just memories. You wanted to be angry, to lash out at her for treating you this way, but all you could feel was a deep, aching sadness. This was your life now, and there was nothing you could do to change it.
The cycle finally ended, the machine falling silent as the water drained away. You lay there, damp and disoriented, as the lid of the machine was lifted. Charlotte’s face appeared above you, her expression as casual as ever. “Alright, let’s get you dried,” she said, grabbing the pile of laundry and tossing it into the dryer.
The drum of the dryer was even colder than the washer, the metal sending a shiver through you as the door slammed shut. You were surrounded by darkness once again, the only sound the low hum of the machine as it began to spin. This was it, this was your life now. You were just a piece of laundry, to be washed and dried and worn again. The thought was almost too much to bear, but there was no escaping it.
As the dryer rumbled on, the heat building around you, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could endure this. How much longer could you live like this, trapped in this absurd form, forever at the mercy of Charlotte’s whims? The answer eluded you, lost in the whirl of the machine as it spun you round and round, over and over again.
Hours ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. You could hear Charlotte moving about the house, her footsteps muffled by the carpet. The distant hum of the television drifted through the walls, punctuated by her occasional laughter. She sounded so casual, so carefree, as though her world hadn’t been turned upside down. You wanted to scream, to remind her that you were still you, that you were trapped in this absurd form, but all you could do was listen.
Her voice carried from the living room as she chatted on the phone with a friend. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” she said, her tone light and playful. You strained to hear more, desperate for any connection to her, but the words were too faint. She was living her life, moving through her day as though nothing had changed. And why wouldn’t she? To her, you were just a thong now, a piece of clothing to be worn and washed. The thought twisted in your gut, a sharp reminder of your new reality.
The sunlight streaming through the bathroom window began to fade, replaced by the soft glow of the evening. You lay there, surrounded by the remnants of her day, each piece of fabric a testament to the life she continued to live. Your life, the one you had shared with her, felt like a distant memory. The ache of longing was almost unbearable, a constant throb in your chest as you wished for just a moment of her attention.
Finally, the sound of her footsteps approached, growing louder with each passing second. Your heart leapt, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. Was she coming back for you? Would she finally acknowledge you, treat you like the man you still were inside? The door creaked open, and there she stood, her towering frame silhouetted against the soft light of the hallway.
“Okay, babe, sorry to keep you waiting,” she said casually, reaching into the basket. Her tone was so nonchalant, so dismissive, that it felt like a punch to the gut. She grabbed the pile of laundry, including you, as though you were nothing more than a load of dirty clothes. The world tilted as she lifted the basket, your surroundings blurring into a whirl of color and motion.
Before you could protest, before you could even process what was happening, she dumped the contents into the washing machine. The cold metal of the drum pressed against you, the scent of detergent filling your senses. You were going to be washed, just like her other intimates, just like any other piece of fabric. The thought was humiliating, a stark reminder of how far you’d fallen.
Charlotte’s voice carried over the sound of the machine as she closed the lid. “Hope you don’t mind the spin cycle,” she said with a teasing laugh, as though this were all some kind of joke. You wanted to scream, to beg her to stop, but all you could do was lie there, trapped in the suffocating darkness.
The machine roared to life, the water sloshing around you as the cycle began. The fabric of her other clothes pressed against you, their damp weight a constant reminder of your new existence. The scent of her sweat mingled with the detergent, a nauseating combination that made your head spin. You were just a thong now, nothing more, nothing less. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, crushing the last remnants of hope you had been clinging to.
As the machine rumbled on, jostling you with every spin, you couldn’t help but think about the life you had lost. The life you had shared with Charlotte, the moments of intimacy and connection that were now just memories. You wanted to be angry, to lash out at her for treating you this way, but all you could feel was a deep, aching sadness. This was your life now, and there was nothing you could do to change it.
The cycle finally ended, the machine falling silent as the water drained away. You lay there, damp and disoriented, as the lid of the machine was lifted. Charlotte’s face appeared above you, her expression as casual as ever. “Alright, let’s get you dried,” she said, grabbing the pile of laundry and tossing it into the dryer.
The drum of the dryer was even colder than the washer, the metal sending a shiver through you as the door slammed shut. You were surrounded by darkness once again, the only sound the low hum of the machine as it began to spin. This was it, this was your life now. You were just a piece of laundry, to be washed and dried and worn again. The thought was almost too much to bear, but there was no escaping it.
As the dryer rumbled on, the heat building around you, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could endure this. How much longer could you live like this, trapped in this absurd form, forever at the mercy of Charlotte’s whims? The answer eluded you, lost in the whirl of the machine as it spun you round and round, over and over again.
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March 28, 2025
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