Denise' Exercise Shorts
Neighborhood MILFs
chapter 11
by
copier
· original author:
latergator
At her words, James simply nodded.
“I was expecting more of a reaction outta you than that…” Denise said. Picking up on hint of offense in her voice, James brought his hands up slightly in a weak defense.
“I’ve been turning into all kinds of stuff for people for years now.” The teen said with a light shrug, “Jobs don’t really phase me anymore.”
Denise’s expression softened, “That’s right!” The milf shook her head, “Sorry if I sounded a bit angry there, pumpkin.”
James smiled gently at her, “It’s alright.”
He had seen this many times before in his ‘line of work:’ women struggling with the effects of aging, unable to turn heads like they did in there primes. In her heyday, countless men payed exorbitant entrance fees for the chance to see Denise shaking her bountiful booty, and countless more would likely have murdered for the opportunity to touch it for a split-second. Now the prospect of being closer to it than humanly possible (literally) didn’t get much of a reaction from one hormonal teenager.
He hoped understanding that wasn’t the case would help her feel better. It was the best he could do. After all, he couldn’t reveal the fantasies he’d had about her, and how in the majority of them she was the mature milf he had always known, not the youthful woman she was in her prime. That would just make things awkward between them.
He continued, “Is there anyway you’d like the shorts to look? Like, is there a color you’d like them to be? Or are you fine with any?”
Denise pursed her lips in thought before glancing to her left at a photo hanging on the wall. She pointed at it, “How about making yourself into the ones I’m wearing there, pumpkin?”
James looked at the photo. In it, a younger Denise was standing among a line-up of fourteen other women, none of whom he knew. They were all very attractive and shapely; a few matched and even surpassed Denise in certain areas, but did so by sacrificing in others, and thus failed to strike the bountiful balance of his neighbor’s past-self. They all wore identical bras which had stripes of various shades of red and pinks running horizontally across it’s exterior, but each wore mono-colored shorts of a different color, with Denise’ being bright red. They flashed various kinds of smiles at the camera, but all of them seemed genuine. Behind them, the name ‘The Racing Heart’ hung over a building entrance in giant neon letters.
“You can’t see it in the picture, but on the backside, there were these two, big, pink hearts. And I mean pretty big: each one took up nearly a whole cheek!” Reminisced Denise with a giggle. She waved a hand weakly, trying to swat away the creeping nostalgia before it overcame her, “Of course, you don’t have to go that far for-”
The milf’s sentence collapsed. The boy she was talking had closed his eyes – and then suddenly disappeared, leaving her supposedly alone in the hallway.
Denise stood still and silent for a moment, staring onward through the now unoccupied space to the front door. Having never witnessed his power in action before, nor had it described to her by anyone who had, her mind had ran full-speed through so many ideas of the possible spectacle or fanfare, from a magic word he needed to utter to his transformation being masked in a blinding flash of light. The scene it had settled on, that it kept drudging up in moments of idleness, was that of his body slowly morphing into what he was becoming, his everything slowly subsumed by the object. She found her mind wondering to such a scene more times than she’d like to admit.
The truth, however, was that he was there one instant and gone the next. She could feel her lips purse in disappointment.
But if this was his transformation, that meant…
Denise looked down. Laying on the floor in very spot her neighbor had been standing was a pair of familiar, bright red shorts, looking right out of the photo of she had shown him of her and her work buddies. Whatever disappointment had crept into her at witnessing the transformation process – or lack there of – dispersed as she saw the new state of the transformed. A beaming smile overtaking her face, she stepped over to him and squatted down, looming over him.
“Wow, pumpkin! Aren’t you looking good?” She teased. There was no replay from the shorts, something that caught the milf off-guard at first, but quickly she recovered. Of course clothes can’t talk! You need a mouth to talk, and while he may have possessed one a few moments ago, now her neighbor was lacking in one. Leaning forward, Denise reached down, seized the article gently in both hands, and lifted them up with her as she returned to standing. She held them out in front of her, scanning the surface with an almost greedy gaze, while her fingers softly rubbed against into the fabric.
“Feeling good too! I’m really looking forward to wearing you!” She cooed, again, to no response. She continued to absorb the front of the shorts for a few more seconds before, curiosity egging her on, she turned them over – and her eyes went wide.
Two, great big pink hearts, one on each cheek. They weren’t exactly the right size; in fact, they were a little bigger than those of the original. And the shade of pink was a little off. But it was more than good enough for Denise.
“Oh, pumpkin! You didn’t have to!” Gratitude overflowing, Denise turned the shorts back over to the front, pulled them to her face, and began delivering kiss-after-kiss onto the crotch area, picturing herself planting them upon every inch of her neighbor’s cute, human face. She didn’t know where his ‘face’ was in this current state, or if he even had one as is, but she didn’t care. She knew he could feel, and she wanted to make absolutely sure he could feel her appreciation at his gesture. If her grateful bombardment was falling upon something else of his, that was fine too. After all, she wasn’t kissing his real body, the skin and the flesh; just fabric.
Denise would surely be glad to know that James could absolutely feel her appreciation, all right, and would surely glad to know he was enjoying it.
What she may or may not be glad to know is that her kisses were falling upon, essentially, his ‘butt.’
As shorts, James felt like his body was a complete circle impossible for any human body to achieve, only breaking bones and tearing muscle in the attempt, with his ‘feet’ atop his ‘shoulders.’ His front was the interior of the shorts, with his ‘face’ and ‘toes’ inside the right cheek, his ‘chest’ inside the left cheek, and his ‘crotch,’ fittingly, atop the crotch area, while his back was the exterior, his ‘head’ and ‘heels’ the right cheek, his ‘upper back’ the left cheek, and his ‘butt’ the crotch area, where Denise’s soft kisses touched down. His ‘legs’ made up the right side of the shorts and his ‘midsection’ made up the left, while his ‘arms’ formed the length of fabric that separated the legs holes, reaching from his ‘shoulders’ to his ‘butt.’ His sight came from his ‘face,’ but thankfully the fabric he was composed of was thin enough and the hall light enough that he could peer through the front of his form to observe Denise, if faintly. It was quite an awkward state, but James had been so many things, quite a few of which shifted his body into weirder states than this, that he adjusted near instantly.
The genuine sensation of Denise’ supple lips upon him blew every dream he’d had of it out of the water, though he had never dreamed of her kissing his backside. He guessed she was likely aiming for the place her dream counterpart had caked him in lipstick-leaving kisses multiple times: his face. Part of him considered turning back to human to inform her, but he decided against it. He had a shower and a date to get to. Besides, she wasn’t really kissing his butt; just fabric. She held the last peck against him for longer, turning it practically into a smooch, and then broke away with a loud smack of her lips.
“You’re free to use my shower whenever you want for this!” She exclaimed with a bright, grateful smile.
With her ‘rented’ shorts in tow, Denise turned and marched her way into the living room. Since it was right behind her, she soon slipped inside, stopped briefly to firmly shut the door behind her, then matched a little further and came to another stop in the middle of the room. There, one side of James fell into a short swing as one hand released him and made it’s way to Denise’ waist. The dangling teen watched through the fabric of himself as it wedged itself between the waistline of the yoga pants and Denise’ skin. All on it’s lonesome, the hand pulled the clingy pants over it’s master’s spacious hips and buttocks and a good way down her meaty thighs until they fell to the floor, and Denise stepped out them without a second thought.
Now, she was going to step into him. The hand flew back up to him, and together with it’s sibling, began turning him around. The last look he got of her face was the giddy smile on her lips. Then he was staring out at the exercise equipment she had set up in the room, but not for long, for he was quickly lower down to a foot above the carpet. A titanic, chocolate leg stepped into him, followed by another. Then he was slowly pulled upwards. He could feel the skin of her legs gliding against him, and it was wonderful. He gazed upwards, and saw her huge rump, gigantic now, drawing closer. The only part of her underwear he could see were the crimson-red straps; the rest had been swallowed by her hungry cheeks.
Finally, his ‘face’ and ‘chest’ made contact with their respective cheeks, while his ‘crotch’ made contact with her panties-protected own. A final yank pressed him deeper into the milf’s softness, before he was released, and snapped snugly and securely around her, both of them content with where he was.
“Remind me to hire you out more often, pumpkin. I think you’re the comfiest shorts I’ve ever worn!” Denise cooed down to him, and softly wiggled her booty to tease him.
“I was expecting more of a reaction outta you than that…” Denise said. Picking up on hint of offense in her voice, James brought his hands up slightly in a weak defense.
“I’ve been turning into all kinds of stuff for people for years now.” The teen said with a light shrug, “Jobs don’t really phase me anymore.”
Denise’s expression softened, “That’s right!” The milf shook her head, “Sorry if I sounded a bit angry there, pumpkin.”
James smiled gently at her, “It’s alright.”
He had seen this many times before in his ‘line of work:’ women struggling with the effects of aging, unable to turn heads like they did in there primes. In her heyday, countless men payed exorbitant entrance fees for the chance to see Denise shaking her bountiful booty, and countless more would likely have murdered for the opportunity to touch it for a split-second. Now the prospect of being closer to it than humanly possible (literally) didn’t get much of a reaction from one hormonal teenager.
He hoped understanding that wasn’t the case would help her feel better. It was the best he could do. After all, he couldn’t reveal the fantasies he’d had about her, and how in the majority of them she was the mature milf he had always known, not the youthful woman she was in her prime. That would just make things awkward between them.
He continued, “Is there anyway you’d like the shorts to look? Like, is there a color you’d like them to be? Or are you fine with any?”
Denise pursed her lips in thought before glancing to her left at a photo hanging on the wall. She pointed at it, “How about making yourself into the ones I’m wearing there, pumpkin?”
James looked at the photo. In it, a younger Denise was standing among a line-up of fourteen other women, none of whom he knew. They were all very attractive and shapely; a few matched and even surpassed Denise in certain areas, but did so by sacrificing in others, and thus failed to strike the bountiful balance of his neighbor’s past-self. They all wore identical bras which had stripes of various shades of red and pinks running horizontally across it’s exterior, but each wore mono-colored shorts of a different color, with Denise’ being bright red. They flashed various kinds of smiles at the camera, but all of them seemed genuine. Behind them, the name ‘The Racing Heart’ hung over a building entrance in giant neon letters.
“You can’t see it in the picture, but on the backside, there were these two, big, pink hearts. And I mean pretty big: each one took up nearly a whole cheek!” Reminisced Denise with a giggle. She waved a hand weakly, trying to swat away the creeping nostalgia before it overcame her, “Of course, you don’t have to go that far for-”
The milf’s sentence collapsed. The boy she was talking had closed his eyes – and then suddenly disappeared, leaving her supposedly alone in the hallway.
Denise stood still and silent for a moment, staring onward through the now unoccupied space to the front door. Having never witnessed his power in action before, nor had it described to her by anyone who had, her mind had ran full-speed through so many ideas of the possible spectacle or fanfare, from a magic word he needed to utter to his transformation being masked in a blinding flash of light. The scene it had settled on, that it kept drudging up in moments of idleness, was that of his body slowly morphing into what he was becoming, his everything slowly subsumed by the object. She found her mind wondering to such a scene more times than she’d like to admit.
The truth, however, was that he was there one instant and gone the next. She could feel her lips purse in disappointment.
But if this was his transformation, that meant…
Denise looked down. Laying on the floor in very spot her neighbor had been standing was a pair of familiar, bright red shorts, looking right out of the photo of she had shown him of her and her work buddies. Whatever disappointment had crept into her at witnessing the transformation process – or lack there of – dispersed as she saw the new state of the transformed. A beaming smile overtaking her face, she stepped over to him and squatted down, looming over him.
“Wow, pumpkin! Aren’t you looking good?” She teased. There was no replay from the shorts, something that caught the milf off-guard at first, but quickly she recovered. Of course clothes can’t talk! You need a mouth to talk, and while he may have possessed one a few moments ago, now her neighbor was lacking in one. Leaning forward, Denise reached down, seized the article gently in both hands, and lifted them up with her as she returned to standing. She held them out in front of her, scanning the surface with an almost greedy gaze, while her fingers softly rubbed against into the fabric.
“Feeling good too! I’m really looking forward to wearing you!” She cooed, again, to no response. She continued to absorb the front of the shorts for a few more seconds before, curiosity egging her on, she turned them over – and her eyes went wide.
Two, great big pink hearts, one on each cheek. They weren’t exactly the right size; in fact, they were a little bigger than those of the original. And the shade of pink was a little off. But it was more than good enough for Denise.
“Oh, pumpkin! You didn’t have to!” Gratitude overflowing, Denise turned the shorts back over to the front, pulled them to her face, and began delivering kiss-after-kiss onto the crotch area, picturing herself planting them upon every inch of her neighbor’s cute, human face. She didn’t know where his ‘face’ was in this current state, or if he even had one as is, but she didn’t care. She knew he could feel, and she wanted to make absolutely sure he could feel her appreciation at his gesture. If her grateful bombardment was falling upon something else of his, that was fine too. After all, she wasn’t kissing his real body, the skin and the flesh; just fabric.
Denise would surely be glad to know that James could absolutely feel her appreciation, all right, and would surely glad to know he was enjoying it.
What she may or may not be glad to know is that her kisses were falling upon, essentially, his ‘butt.’
As shorts, James felt like his body was a complete circle impossible for any human body to achieve, only breaking bones and tearing muscle in the attempt, with his ‘feet’ atop his ‘shoulders.’ His front was the interior of the shorts, with his ‘face’ and ‘toes’ inside the right cheek, his ‘chest’ inside the left cheek, and his ‘crotch,’ fittingly, atop the crotch area, while his back was the exterior, his ‘head’ and ‘heels’ the right cheek, his ‘upper back’ the left cheek, and his ‘butt’ the crotch area, where Denise’s soft kisses touched down. His ‘legs’ made up the right side of the shorts and his ‘midsection’ made up the left, while his ‘arms’ formed the length of fabric that separated the legs holes, reaching from his ‘shoulders’ to his ‘butt.’ His sight came from his ‘face,’ but thankfully the fabric he was composed of was thin enough and the hall light enough that he could peer through the front of his form to observe Denise, if faintly. It was quite an awkward state, but James had been so many things, quite a few of which shifted his body into weirder states than this, that he adjusted near instantly.
The genuine sensation of Denise’ supple lips upon him blew every dream he’d had of it out of the water, though he had never dreamed of her kissing his backside. He guessed she was likely aiming for the place her dream counterpart had caked him in lipstick-leaving kisses multiple times: his face. Part of him considered turning back to human to inform her, but he decided against it. He had a shower and a date to get to. Besides, she wasn’t really kissing his butt; just fabric. She held the last peck against him for longer, turning it practically into a smooch, and then broke away with a loud smack of her lips.
“You’re free to use my shower whenever you want for this!” She exclaimed with a bright, grateful smile.
With her ‘rented’ shorts in tow, Denise turned and marched her way into the living room. Since it was right behind her, she soon slipped inside, stopped briefly to firmly shut the door behind her, then matched a little further and came to another stop in the middle of the room. There, one side of James fell into a short swing as one hand released him and made it’s way to Denise’ waist. The dangling teen watched through the fabric of himself as it wedged itself between the waistline of the yoga pants and Denise’ skin. All on it’s lonesome, the hand pulled the clingy pants over it’s master’s spacious hips and buttocks and a good way down her meaty thighs until they fell to the floor, and Denise stepped out them without a second thought.
Now, she was going to step into him. The hand flew back up to him, and together with it’s sibling, began turning him around. The last look he got of her face was the giddy smile on her lips. Then he was staring out at the exercise equipment she had set up in the room, but not for long, for he was quickly lower down to a foot above the carpet. A titanic, chocolate leg stepped into him, followed by another. Then he was slowly pulled upwards. He could feel the skin of her legs gliding against him, and it was wonderful. He gazed upwards, and saw her huge rump, gigantic now, drawing closer. The only part of her underwear he could see were the crimson-red straps; the rest had been swallowed by her hungry cheeks.
Finally, his ‘face’ and ‘chest’ made contact with their respective cheeks, while his ‘crotch’ made contact with her panties-protected own. A final yank pressed him deeper into the milf’s softness, before he was released, and snapped snugly and securely around her, both of them content with where he was.
“Remind me to hire you out more often, pumpkin. I think you’re the comfiest shorts I’ve ever worn!” Denise cooed down to him, and softly wiggled her booty to tease him.
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June 1
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