Family will always be in fashion.
Tiny Brother VS Big Sister
chapter 9
by
copier
· original author:
kentwolf
You saw the world spin around you as you sailed through the kitchen, the rush of air cooling the saliva coating you. As you spun, you saw your destination spin in and out of your field of vision. You were heading right for the kitchen bin, half full of trash. You did not want to falll in there and be taken out to the curb. You prayed for a miracle, which actually seemed to happen, though in reality your mother was just a bad shot. You hit the rim of the bin, the wet saliva stopping you from sticking as you bounced off it and fell off to the side. You saw a pile of dirty clothes waiting to be put in the wash sitting infront of the washing machine. You landed on it and rolled to a stop in the upturned cup of a bra. Never had you been so happy to be in a bra, you tried to get your body to reform, but it was very mangled and confused from nearly an entire day of being gum, not to mention some of the real gum had partially fused with you from all the chewing thanks to your squishy nature. You stilll smelt of mint.
Your mother hadn't seen that she had missed the bin, so you listened to the faint sounds of her eating in the other room. Reformation was still very slow, almost non existant as you could wobble in your glob shape, still unable to tell where any of your body parts were in the mixed up, chewed up body of yours. You heard your mother walk back into the kitchen, the sound of her putting her plate and cutlery in the sink before hearing her sigh.
"Guess I should put the washing on. Can't have it pile up" That sent a shiver through you and you tried to reform faster, straining your body to try to reshape no matter what.
Unfortunatly, your body was no match for the speed your mother could casually cross the room in four steps. She opened the washing machine door and began scooping up bunches of clothing and tossing it in. As you had been on the top of the pile, you now found yourself increasingly at the bottom, under a heavy mass of fabrics. You barely heard the sound of the door clicking shut, or the turning of dials. You certainly heard the sound of the machine starting up though. The water rising around you, soaking the bra you were on and all the fabric got heavier, pushing down on you and turning your glob shape into more of a disc in the bra cup.
As the barrel began to spin, you were thrown about, still clinging to the bra as you tried frantically to force your body to reform, not wanting to remain stuck and potentially mixed in with the clothing. Almost as if your body pushed through its mental barriers, you suddenly felt your straining pay off as suddenly your body began to push out from its current shape, though something felt weird.
It seemed to be clinging to the bra as you grew out, but didnt seem to stop. You were confused but happy you werent a glob anymore, but it felt like no reformation you had ever had before. Perhaps you had damaged yourself by forcing too hard. Your body grew out in all directions, clinging to the bras fabric like velcro as it went, almost as if it was using its shape, like filling a mold. You felt the weird sensation as your body grew along the straps, filled out the cups, covered every inch of the insiide of the bra before another garment scraped against you and peeled you free. The reformation stopped as you now had nothing to cling onto. It was a confusing sensation, you still couldn't move your body, though you felt bigger than you ever had, but your shape did not feel human, it felt... like a bra.
As the cycle stopped, you lay there confused trying to figure out what had happened. All you could guess was, due to being so mangled, so infused and mixed up for such a long time, your body was struggling to go back to its shape. Then, when you had forced yourself to reform too hard, it had tried and used the thing you were stuck to as a surface to grow out on. Nothing like this had ever happened before, you didn't know how long it would take your body to recover from this. The door was suddenly opened and your mothers hands reached in, taking you out of the machine and tossing you into the dryer with the rest of the soggy clothing.
As you spun in the baking heat, you felt your body tensing up. The gum mixed in with you on such a level from a day of being chewed, seemed to harden from the heat, almost baking like a soft clay. This didn't make you hard or rigid, but it felt like it was almost...setting your shape as it was. You tried to twitch, to move anything, but you felt like you had no muscles, no limbs to move.
When your drying cycle eventually ended, your mother pulled out all the clothing and set it up to iron what was creased infront of the tv, so she could watch something while she worked. You lay there, unmoving in the pile, freaking out about the weird change your body had gone through. You had cups, you had straps, your body was keeping the shape of a bra and you didn't know how to fix this. You felt your mothers hand lift you up by a strap and then her face looking down at you with a frown. She turned the tan bra over in her hands, not seeing your faint, blurry features on the inside of one of the cups, but she did see that the clasp of the bra seemed to have come off. She sighed, stroking the bra. The material felt soft and probably still supportive, so she laid it down on the ironing board and walked off.
She came back a few minutes later with a spare clasp in its two pieces and a sewing kit. You watched from a weird angle and growing fear as you saw those things, seeing no recognition in your mothers eyes as she looked right at you. You cried out in silent pain as she stitched the clasps "Back" where she thought they had fallen off, making you just like any bra, your straps painfullly throbbiing, but otherwise, unnoticable.
She folded you up and placed you on a pile of lingerie to be taken up to her room when she was done with the ironing.You could not believe how bad a day you were having. You almost missed being your sisters gum. At least she knew it was you, but your mother thought you were miles away. She had no reason to think this bra was her son, somehow stuck in this shape.
You spent the night with the other bras in one of your mothers underwear drawers, in darkness, listening to the sounds of the world outside your prison, but no matter what you tried, your body would not budge. It really was baked into its shape by the dryer, holding the form it had taken in the wash. You knew that sooner or later, you would be worn by your mother. Not just taking some of her weight as a sticker in her bra, but carrying the full weight as her bra. You hoped that the next time you were in the wash it would soften your body again, let you reform to your normal shape. You certainly did not want to be your mothers bra until Christine visited at winter break. Not that there was a certainty she would even find you if she did visit all those months into the future.
All you could do is wait, hope and pray...
Your mother hadn't seen that she had missed the bin, so you listened to the faint sounds of her eating in the other room. Reformation was still very slow, almost non existant as you could wobble in your glob shape, still unable to tell where any of your body parts were in the mixed up, chewed up body of yours. You heard your mother walk back into the kitchen, the sound of her putting her plate and cutlery in the sink before hearing her sigh.
"Guess I should put the washing on. Can't have it pile up" That sent a shiver through you and you tried to reform faster, straining your body to try to reshape no matter what.
Unfortunatly, your body was no match for the speed your mother could casually cross the room in four steps. She opened the washing machine door and began scooping up bunches of clothing and tossing it in. As you had been on the top of the pile, you now found yourself increasingly at the bottom, under a heavy mass of fabrics. You barely heard the sound of the door clicking shut, or the turning of dials. You certainly heard the sound of the machine starting up though. The water rising around you, soaking the bra you were on and all the fabric got heavier, pushing down on you and turning your glob shape into more of a disc in the bra cup.
As the barrel began to spin, you were thrown about, still clinging to the bra as you tried frantically to force your body to reform, not wanting to remain stuck and potentially mixed in with the clothing. Almost as if your body pushed through its mental barriers, you suddenly felt your straining pay off as suddenly your body began to push out from its current shape, though something felt weird.
It seemed to be clinging to the bra as you grew out, but didnt seem to stop. You were confused but happy you werent a glob anymore, but it felt like no reformation you had ever had before. Perhaps you had damaged yourself by forcing too hard. Your body grew out in all directions, clinging to the bras fabric like velcro as it went, almost as if it was using its shape, like filling a mold. You felt the weird sensation as your body grew along the straps, filled out the cups, covered every inch of the insiide of the bra before another garment scraped against you and peeled you free. The reformation stopped as you now had nothing to cling onto. It was a confusing sensation, you still couldn't move your body, though you felt bigger than you ever had, but your shape did not feel human, it felt... like a bra.
As the cycle stopped, you lay there confused trying to figure out what had happened. All you could guess was, due to being so mangled, so infused and mixed up for such a long time, your body was struggling to go back to its shape. Then, when you had forced yourself to reform too hard, it had tried and used the thing you were stuck to as a surface to grow out on. Nothing like this had ever happened before, you didn't know how long it would take your body to recover from this. The door was suddenly opened and your mothers hands reached in, taking you out of the machine and tossing you into the dryer with the rest of the soggy clothing.
As you spun in the baking heat, you felt your body tensing up. The gum mixed in with you on such a level from a day of being chewed, seemed to harden from the heat, almost baking like a soft clay. This didn't make you hard or rigid, but it felt like it was almost...setting your shape as it was. You tried to twitch, to move anything, but you felt like you had no muscles, no limbs to move.
When your drying cycle eventually ended, your mother pulled out all the clothing and set it up to iron what was creased infront of the tv, so she could watch something while she worked. You lay there, unmoving in the pile, freaking out about the weird change your body had gone through. You had cups, you had straps, your body was keeping the shape of a bra and you didn't know how to fix this. You felt your mothers hand lift you up by a strap and then her face looking down at you with a frown. She turned the tan bra over in her hands, not seeing your faint, blurry features on the inside of one of the cups, but she did see that the clasp of the bra seemed to have come off. She sighed, stroking the bra. The material felt soft and probably still supportive, so she laid it down on the ironing board and walked off.
She came back a few minutes later with a spare clasp in its two pieces and a sewing kit. You watched from a weird angle and growing fear as you saw those things, seeing no recognition in your mothers eyes as she looked right at you. You cried out in silent pain as she stitched the clasps "Back" where she thought they had fallen off, making you just like any bra, your straps painfullly throbbiing, but otherwise, unnoticable.
She folded you up and placed you on a pile of lingerie to be taken up to her room when she was done with the ironing.You could not believe how bad a day you were having. You almost missed being your sisters gum. At least she knew it was you, but your mother thought you were miles away. She had no reason to think this bra was her son, somehow stuck in this shape.
You spent the night with the other bras in one of your mothers underwear drawers, in darkness, listening to the sounds of the world outside your prison, but no matter what you tried, your body would not budge. It really was baked into its shape by the dryer, holding the form it had taken in the wash. You knew that sooner or later, you would be worn by your mother. Not just taking some of her weight as a sticker in her bra, but carrying the full weight as her bra. You hoped that the next time you were in the wash it would soften your body again, let you reform to your normal shape. You certainly did not want to be your mothers bra until Christine visited at winter break. Not that there was a certainty she would even find you if she did visit all those months into the future.
All you could do is wait, hope and pray...
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May 30, 2025
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