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...Fuck.

I'd been laying on the couch for half an hour now, and still I was afraid of what might happen if I stood up. I preferred to keep down whatever was rumbling in my stomach, and I knew my flaring headache would only get worse if I started moving. I rested for a little bit longer, only shifting my head to take in the destruction of my apartment's living room. I didn't remember getting back here. I barely remembered last night in general.

"A party remembered isn't a party worth remembering," I mumbled under my beer-stained breath.

I eventually needed to get up off my ass. I had to piss, my throat was drier than a desert, and this place wasn't going to clean itself. Rolling off the cushions I'd slept on, I stumbled through the trash-strewn battleground on my way to the kitchen. Luckily, I was instilled with great knowledge on how to ease a hangover. A cup of coffee and several sugary snacks helped settle my head and stomach to a dull ache. After a second cup and a pit stop in the bathroom to relieve myself, I assessed the damage of my birthday bash.

"Christ--what a mess..."

The place was just that, a mess. Only a tornado could've created a bigger disaster. How did this trainwreck happen? Bottles on the sink, the floor--one smashed into several shards--and some unknown liquid sticking to the bottom of my paws that you could only hope was some alcoholic beverage. Several party items left behind, confetti and silly string being the worst of it. I wish I knew who thought _that_was a good idea. I'd like to kick their ass for it.

It was far from irreparable, but it sure as hell wasn't something I wanted to clean up. In fact, why should I clean this up right now? It's still the weekend, the day after my birthday. I'm hardly in the mood to worry about chores.

But I knew someone who I might convince to do it for me...

"Gus! Hey Gus, you in there?"

No answer came from my roommate. His bedroom was closed and typically locked when he was away, but when I went to try the handle, it opened without resistance.

"Knock, knock, you in here Gus?" I asked at the doorway. Still no answer. I pushed the door aside fully, and sure enough, there was no one in the room. "Where is that little nerd at?"

It was weird for the white-furred bunny to leave his room unlocked. I'd lost his trust early on, having a party one night that had two girls crashing in his bed, one accidentally barfing on his sheets. Ever since, he kept his door shut when he wasn't in the apartment. Seems like he must've forgotten this morning to re-lock it. There weren't any signs of the party that happened just outside the room, so it must've been either locked or occupied by him last night. Either way, Gus wasn't here now, so my bright idea for an in-house maid service was ruined.

Something on the bed did catch my eye, though.

"Heh, what 'cha got here Gus?" I picked up the shorts--at least I assumed they were shorts. Practically underwear, really. They were a cutesy little pair, colored dark red, almost like the color of wine staining white fabric. On the corner of the front side was a little pink heart. This had to mean only one thing; Gus had finally scored a chick at one of my parties!

"You dirty dog..."

I felt the shorts in my hands. A nice fabric, soft on the pads. Kinda looked inviting. Really inviting... Gus wouldn't mind, would he? Shit, they're not even his, and he'd never know if I did, so why was I hesitating?

I shimmied my shorts down my legs and, after I gave it a second thought, slid my underwear off as well. Standing in Gus' room naked from the waist down, I lower the cute shorts to the floor and carefully pass both my legs through each opening. The red accented my chestnut-brown fur nicely.

Pulling the elastic band up to my waist, I have to put a little effort into working my toned butt into the shorts until finally everything is in the right spot. I stepped across the hallway to take a look at myself in the bathroom mirror, and boy did I love what I saw.

"Damn--I'd fuck me..." I joked, though there might've been some truth to the words. My physique was the perfect match for the shorts, and the shorts fit my ass like they were meant for me and only me. I flicked each cheek to admire the jiggle contained within the stretched fabric.

Maybe Gus won't mind if I snag these. I really hoped that, at least. These shorts were begging to be worn by me, and who was I to turn them away?

I stepped back to Gus' doorway and was reaching for the handle when I also spotted a half-full glass of liquid on his nightstand. I picked up the glass and gave it a sniff. Sure enough, it was liquor. Gus didn't drink, so it must've been left behind by whoever he'd slept with. I considered the beverage and whether I should finish it off; it was against my moral code to waste perfectly good alcohol. With a suck in of my gut, I drain the glass in one gulp, shaking myself of the stinging sensations that greeted my tongue.

"Whoo--best way to cure a hangover," I said to no one, dropping the empty glass back on his nightstand. I closed his door behind me and made my way back to the living room. Next thing on my to-do list was looking at my phone.

"Oh shit..."

Four missed calls from Amber, and several text messages as well. I scan the messages. Oh shit, indeed. There had been some things said last night that I definitely did not remember saying. The last few messages boiled down to her and I going at each other's throats, and eventually I stopped responding sometime around two in the morning. Probably too drunk to operate a phone at that point. She sent a few more messages after that, but stopped once she realized I'd gone silent. She tried a few times this morning, but had stopped trying again as of the past few hours.

I considered my options, my thumbs hovered over the screen's keyboard. What should I say that wouldn't dig me any deeper into the hole I was already in? I typed a few words, deleted them, typed a few more, then deleted those words too.

I tossed my phone aside with an audible groan. I needed to clear my thoughts before I responded, and the screen's brightness was not helping my headache in the least, which seemed to be coming back with a vengeance. I could lay down again, but that would only make it worse in the long run. More liquids might help--this time of the non-alcoholic kind.

The fridge did offer a few decent options. I grabbed a jug of nearly empty orange juice and finished it off straightaway, letting out a nasty belch afterwards. The other drinks didn't seem nearly as tantalizing, but I tried them anyways, looking for anything to push back the awful feeling that was suddenly washing over my body.

"Damnit--what did I drink last night?"

My words came out hoarse and my tongue felt unbearably dry, which made no sense after gulping down several different liquids. I touched a finger to the inside of my mouth and felt no moisture at all. In fact, it felt oddly fuzzy...

Within the minutes between leaving Gus' room and now, my body had switched to a full-on fever that sapped my strength and blurred my vision. What the fuck was happening?

"Shit, shit, shit." I stumbled back to the living room for my phone, but dropped to the floor hard when my left leg gave out. The wind was knocked out of me, and even worse was the nasty knock given to the back of my head. That really got me seeing stars. I clutched both hands around my skull, wishing so badly for the ringing to stop.

And then it did. All the pain began to subside actually, like, no pain at all. Something was off. No, worse, everything was off. I couldn't get up! I did manage to tilt my head up, and what I saw was horrifying.

My legs were gone.

Attached at my hips were two long pieces of cloth, striped purple and white. I couldn't grasp what I was seeing. My brain was shocked of all reasonable thought, because nothing was reasonable about this. My legs were fucking gone!

The next thing I tried was yelling out, but it seemed my ability to speak had also disappeared, only the faintest hiss of air escaping my lips. I watched more of my body change against my will, more of the striped fabric replacing my skin and bones. I realized what the two clothes were--just that, clothing. I was watching my body morph into a pair of absurdly long socks!

If my brain hadn't melted already, the outlandish thought of being reduced to socks surely did the trick. My mind circled the same few curses over and over, as there was nothing else I could do. Even watching the transformation became an impossibility, my head slumping back to the ground as I lost the muscles to hold it upright. The last I'd seen was my belly's chestnut fur shrinking down to a bright white material. I would laugh at the hysterics of it, if I still had a voice to do so. I think I'd also be sobbing loudly, too.

I couldn't even feel the progress of my changes. The last parts of me were numb nothingness. I could still imagine it, though, crawling up my skin, turning my perfect body into a soft material, indiscernible from any other piece of clothing. That thought would've sent chills down my spine, if I still had one. I was going to be a pair of socks.

I was one of the hottest, most popular dudes on the campus. I was the fucking shit. I was somebody. Now I'm forced to be less than nothing, only to be worn by whoever finds me lying on the floor of my apartment. Who would find me? My girlfriend? Someone I didn't know? Would they wear me?

Something new was happening now. My vision was changing, sinking to the floor and... splitting apart? Further and further apart my sight drifted from the other. Once my eyes stopped moving, or however I was still looking at my apartment ceiling, I could only assume that the changes were done. I was now long pieces of dyed cotton, completely devoid of any signs of my previous self.

But now that I thought about it, how was I thinking? If I was now socks, how was I still alive?

To answer that would require making sense about how I was being turned into a pair of socks. I had all the time in the world to think about it, it seemed, at least until someone found me. Then I'd be handled like any other laundry, thrown in a drawer somewhere, stuck in the dark until I was worn again. But I was some kind of thigh-high socks--not the typical, everyday wear. Would I ever be worn, or was I destined to exist only in the lonely dark?

I didn't even know why I was worried about that. I'd just lost my life, all twenty-one fucking years of it! Gone! There was some part of me that was mad, confused, scared shitless. There was no way for me to vent those bottled emotions. My shepherd body was no more. What existed now were two matching socks on the floor of my college apartment, striped purple and white, waiting for someone to find them. Waiting for someone to find me.

That's what it was. A waiting game.

The living room was dreadfully quiet. The whole apartment was. I did hear noises from the outside streets, so my ears still existed in their cotton form. I think my tastebuds were also intact, but I wasn't so sure I was imagining it or recalling how my mouth felt moments before I was transformed. My smell was still there, too, as I could smell myself--the scent of freshly washed clothing from the laundry--and smell the soiled apartment around me. I could only assume all five senses were intact, which was scary in itself.

If someone wore me, I'd be wrapped around their foot for hours, feeling, smelling, tasting every inch of their sweaty sole shoved inside me. I'd be forced to absorb their essence, perhaps wallowing in it for days before I was cleaned, only for it to start all over again. Would that be a worse fate than never being worn at all?

What a thing to be worried about. Reduced to weighing the pros and cons of being worn. I'd been the one calling the shots all my college life. Now I was at the mercy of anyone and everyone. I felt pathetic, and that was not a feeling I was used to.

In my time alone, I considered where it had all gone wrong. When I woke this morning, it wasn't all doom and gloom. I'd felt like shit, yes, but my body wasn't collapsing in on itself. It all happened just after leaving Gus' room, after trying on those shorts.

The shorts!

Did the shorts turn me into socks? Maybe? Maybe not... I didn't think so. I'd felt fine wearing them, and nothing happened while I was looking at myself in the mirror. But surely that must be it, I didn't do anything else...

Oh, wait, the drink!

That mysterious drink on Gus' nightstand. That made more sense. I'd swallowed that down just before leaving his room. It must've done this to me.

But why did Gus have some weird magical alcohol concoction? Gus was a bit odd, but he was an alright dude to hang around, and I would've considered us friends in some manner. The bunny hadn't ever done me wrong, though I couldn't exactly say the same the other way around.

Was this revenge? But it wouldn't make sense to leave it in his room. And where was Gus, anyways? He wasn't here this morning, and I wouldn't have any clue if he was here last night. What happened to him?

...

...Oh no.

Surely not...

...

Was he the pair of shorts?

"Come on Gus, live a little!"

"But--"

"Noooo, no buts!" Brandon slurred. He pushed the glass into my hands a little more forcefully. "Drink up, it's the weekend! An' it's my birthday. Have a drink with your roomie!"

"I don't drink Brandon, you know that."

"Come ooooonnnn. Do it for meeee. It's my birthdayyy--"

"I know, I know!" I yelled, grinning at my sloshed German Shepherd roommate. "Alright, fine. But only one, I'm a lightweight!"

"Yeah, yeah, bunny boy is a lightweight, I gotcha. Come on... drink, drink, drink!"

I pick up the glass of liquor that Brandon handed me, looking at the innocent liquid warily. Fuck it, here goes nothing. I put the drink to my lips and tossed my head back to gulp down a few hard swallows of the vile contents. I only got halfway before I had to quit, coughing and shuttering at the vile taste.

"Argh--shit, that's awful!"

"Hell yeah it is, hah!" Brandon raised his bottle of beer in toast to my awkward drinking. "To the best fucking night I'll never remember!"

There it was again, his quote of the night, apparently. I toasted with him, too, smirking at the heavily intoxicated dog. He tipped his bottle for another swig, and I mimicked him--short of actually drinking it, that is. I could already feel the burn in my stomach, and I wasn't trying to feel like crap in the morning. I knew what that looked like plenty from my roommate. Plus, who'd take care of the shepherd, if not me?

It was a wonder he and the few friends he brought with him made it back to our apartment intact. It was after one in the morning when they'd come in, and it'd been almost two hours since. I planned on wrapping this party up soon, which meant kicking out the others and getting Brandon tucked away, hopefully before I was too tired to do so.

Damn, that drink really was hitting me hard. The music playing from the living room television was getting annoyingly loud for my sensitive ears. I'm surprised we don't get called out in the apartment complex more often.

Eugh. My body did not agree with the liquor at all. What exactly did Brandon give me? It caused an uprising in my tummy, that's for sure. I'd probably need to lay down and let the drink run its course.

I hopped off the bar stool and made my exit of the party, unbeknownst to Brandon, though it wasn't hard to outwit a drunk. Shutting my bedroom door behind me, I set the drink down on my nightstand, though I might as well toss the rest down the drain. I felt increasingly hot, and given that I was in the private of my room, I stripped myself of all my clothes, flopping down naked on my back.

"And this is why I don't drink..." I said aloud, not worried that anyone would hear it outside. Jeez, this was some really strong stuff. My limps were heavy, and I tried to relax, but I couldn't stop reeling from the unpleasantness of it all. My mouth felt so dry. Some water might be nice, might even help get rid of the flavor still coating my tastebuds.

My anxiety skyrocketed when I realized I could no longer get up. I couldn't really move at all. Nothing responded. I couldn't kick my legs, I couldn't lift my arms. I did manage to pull my head off the mattress, and what I saw really set me into a panic. The entire lower half of my body was gone.

I tried to scream, but my voice failed, too. I wanted to call for help, to grab the attention of anyone in the next room, but I couldn't. I watched in horror as it got worse, my belly started to dissolve away before my very eyes. What terrified me even more was what I saw in the wake of the destruction of my body.

Two fabric cloths of a deep reddish color merged into one at my stomach. At the corner of the fabric was... a tiny, pink heart? What was happening to me? Why am I turning into... cotton?

Outside, the partygoers yelled out in rejoice of something while I was slowly losing myself to whatever I was becoming. My head fell against the mattress again, and I couldn't find the strength to lift it back up. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't do anything.

Nothing happened for a bit of time, or at least, nothing I could see. My vision did go wonky after a bit, lowering down to the bed until I could see the mattress all around me. Out of the corner of my vision, I spotted it again--that little pink heart stitched into the corner of the shorts, propped up by my bedsheets.

The little heart was suddenly so close--and so much bigger. Everything was bigger. It was the last straw for my sanity. I would've screamed until my throat felt raw and my lungs burned, but as I panicked within the confines of my mind, my body did not move in the slightest. From what I saw, I no longer had a body. I was just some skimpy pair of shorts.

The minutes started to roll by, and I slowly worked myself back into a calm enough state to notice the party was dying down. There was the shutting of the front door a few times, and then the music was cut off. Talking that was more drunken gibberish than not, before those quieted too. The last I heard was my roommate's voice, humming to himself as he strolled by my bedroom.

Had Brandon done this to me? The drink had to have been what caused this, and he'd been the one to pressure me into drinking it. But I didn't understand why, and more confusing, how?

I couldn't imagine the frat dog being involved with whatever this was. He was drunk as a skunk, and I'm supposed to think he masterminded this operation? It didn't add up, not even considering why he'd target me in the first place. We'd bumped heads a few times, but it'd always been his fault. I'd done nothing to slight him in the year we'd been roommates!

There was a new noise in the background. It was soft at first, hard to pinpoint, but it seemed to be from Brandon's bedroom. Was that...?

Damnit.

I wanted so badly to roll my eyes, to cover my ears, to do anything that'd stop me from hearing my roommate rail his girlfriend. It was humiliating to be so useless. I felt so small all the sudden. Just a pair of shorts on top of my bed, sitting in my cold bedroom while the sounds of moans echoed in the apartment.

I had to hope there was some silver lining, that there was some way out of this nightmare. Maybe this was temporary. Maybe this was all a bad dream.

...Or maybe I'd sit here for hours and hours on end, until eventually someone opened the door, saw I wasn't around, and picked me up to carry me off who knows where. I'd never be found, even though I'd be close by. Maybe too close, if I was unlucky. The idea of being up close and personal with another person's ass should normally be an exciting thought, but for the rest of my cotton life? That wasn't so exciting.

Unfortunately, it seemed more and more likely as the night dragged on. The moaning stopped, I heard some shuffling down the hallway again, and then the world went silent. I couldn't sleep. I guess I no longer needed to. I couldn't blink. I couldn't breathe. I could do absolutely nothing but think and wait, and after some time of doing nothing but thinking, there was nothing else to think about.

The sun was up before something finally happened inside the apartment. There were only some muffled words and shuffling at first. Even in those few bits and pieces I caught, I knew it was my roommate. As he stumbled his way around the apartment, at one point draining his bladder just across from my room, I worried again what my fate would be.

If he was truly the one who'd done this to me, what plans did he have for my new body? I couldn't help imagining that big, juicy ass of his. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to the dog's good looks, but getting up close and personal with his jiggly cheeks and prominent bulge... it felt so wrong. And I should be mad at him! I shouldn't be thinking about his ass or dick!

So why was it so hard to get the disturbingly erotic thoughts out of my no longer existent head?

I was jerked from my mind's horny and confusing merry-go-round by my name being called aloud. Silence wasn't long following before my bedroom door cracked open an inch.

"Knock, knock, you in here Gus?"

I wanted so badly to be able to yell out, to get his attention in any way possible, hoping so desperately that he was here for my rescue instead of my doom. The door opened fully, and there was my German Shepard roommate, bare-chested and looking a little roughened up.

"Where is that little nerd at?"

Shit. There really was nothing I could do to get his attention. I could only do as other inanimate objects did--exist. Brandon barely had his eyelids open when he did a quick scan of the room, but there was no way he wouldn't see me on the bed. Sure enough, his eyes lit up a bit as they settled on my body.

"Heh, what 'cha got here Gus?" Brandon said, and he stepped up closer until he towered over me. His hands reached to grab me, and the worst I'd imagined was about to come true. He held me in his fingers without any clue that he was holding me. He stared at me without any idea that I was staring back in terror. To him, it was just a pair of shorts. To me, it was the end of my old life, and the beginning of a new one--if I could call whatever was in store for me a life worth living.

"You dirty dog..."

Even worse, Brandon must've figured the shorts belonged to someone I picked up at the party. Of course his mind would wander to that conclusion. He must've been proud of himself at the moment, finally getting his awkward roommate laid after trying to help so many times in the past. If only he knew just how wrong he was.

His fingers lingered too long over me, rubbing into my fabric body. I felt everything he did, and it felt nice. Why did it feel so good? And the look in his eyes... What was he planning?

When his fingers slipped under the elastic of his shorts, I knew I was in a world of trouble. I need to wake up from this awful nightmare--right now!

His shorts and, oh god... his underwear slid downwards, fluffy crotch now on full display, though he had no reason to think there was anyone in the room to catch him changing. I wish more than anything that he'd stop, laughing for a while before changing me back, saying it was all just a prank.

I need to wake up...

I was grabbed by both his hands at opposite ends of my elastic band, stretched a bit as one foot lifted in the air to slip through me. I felt everything. I tensed when his heel snagging my fabric, stretching me taut before snapping back in place. I shuddered at the touch of his legs along my holes, warm fur tickling my new form.

I need to wake up...

Further and further I was pulled up his legs, beginning to feel resistance from his meaty thighs filling me up. He kept pulling and pulling, shimmying his hips to gain inch after inch, closing in on the ultimate goal taunting my vision. Please. Please, don't--

I need to wake up!

I had no hands to shield my face. I had no mouth to scream. I had no way to stop the oncoming sheath from poking the space between my eyes, and it did more than poke. It felt so foreign and so strange. I didn't want to acknowledge it. I wanted to ignore how I was fit snug around my roommate's dick and balls. I didn't want to admit that the sensation felt good.

I couldn't ignore the smell, not when it was so strong. Why could I still smell? What fucking fate did I deserve to be endlessly stuck sniffing my roommate's ball musk? I could've been peeling away after only a minute of being worn and I'd still never forget the smell. Damnit, it was nauseatingly potent, and of course it was not a bad smell, either. The shepherd needed a shower from last night's partying, but he wasn't unhygienic. Wasn't this something I'd once wished for--something I once wanted to ask from him? My wish to huff his hefty package was finally granted in a way I'd never could've imagined.

My sight was lost in the dark confines, nestled somewhere up against his sack, but I at least had a sense of my surroundings enough to know that he was now on the move. He didn't walk far before reaching his destination. What was he doing now?

"Damn--I'd fuck me..."

Of course he was looking at himself. Admiring his fat ass being cupped in booty shorts, unaware of the torture he was putting me through... could I call it torture if, no matter how much I tried to deny or ignore the feelings, I enjoyed it? I felt something shake my body, first one side, then the other. He was jiggling his fucking asscheeks! I was doomed to be worn by the most egotistical dog on campus.

My new face was beginning to feel hot. How long could I handle being microwaved by his steamy nuts? As long as my threaded body could handle--which unfortunately would be a long time. I was now a pair of shorts, meant to be worn over and over again, shoved in a drawer between long sessions of sweat and grime, or buried underneath piles of other dirty clothes, basking in the shepherd's fragrance until I was lucky enough to be washed again.

Finally, after several minutes of admiring his reflection, I assume he got his fill and was ready to continue his day, toting my body along for the ride. Again he only took a few steps, perhaps back at the entrance of my room. He fidgeted, then took another few steps forward, I didn't know what for. The clink of glass sent a wave of dread through me.

The drink! I'd never finished it. It was on the nightstand, still half full of the unknown concoction that'd done this to me, and Brandon had spotted it. I had a moment of hopeful wishing that he was taking the glass back to the kitchen where he'd dump it down the sink.

The sound of a quick, forceful gulp was audible above. "Woah--best way to cure a hangover."

The dumbass drank it.

At least I wasn't fated to be hugging his cheeks for the rest of my days, nor was going to be alone in this nightmare. I was waiting for the inevitable now, but a nagging question now ate at my mind, because if Brandon wasn't any wiser to the drink's effects...

...then who was the person responsible?

I followed Amber into her boyfriend's apartment, trying to keep my cool outwardly. Everything was fine. Everything was totally fine. Definitely not here to grab an enemy-turned-accessory.

I'd thought my long-awaited plan had backfired last night. After months of arduous preparation, after successfully brewing the potion one week before, after passing the spiked drink to Brandon during his birthday party, all I needed to do was wait for the magic to kick in and swiftly pick up his clothed remains afterward. It was a simple but effective plan, leaving no traces back to me. It should've been easy, but nothing is easy with Brandon.

That prick.

It quickly went wrong after I'd given him the glass, all because of his nerdy roommate. I didn't even remember his name until Brandon yelled it out.

"Gus!"

That was it. Gus.

Gus wasn't much of a social butterfly. Whenever Brandon and Amber invited me to his shared apartment, the white-coat bunny would barricade himself in his room. He didn't make any small talk, and he also didn't drink, so there was little thought ever considered about his presence.

But of course, when I was least expecting any interference from the introverted roommate, there he was to mess up my plans.

"Come ooooonnnn. Do it for meeee. It's my birthdayyy--"

No. Please, no. Don't do it. Don't do it don't do it don't do it...

"Alright, fine. But only one, I'm a lightweight!"

I watched on the sidelines, my face contorted in a mixture of rage and deep-welled frustration, as the gangly bunny took my hard-worked efforts and brought them to his lips. There were not strong enough words to describe watching my plans falling into the wrong stomach. Agony, despair, annoyance, all balled into one hate-filled black hole I wish I could throw Brandon into--which was possible, but took loads more mana than I ever desired to collect. So many easier ways to dispose of that stupid dog.

The shepherd did not deserve love. He was an asshole, a college jock loser. He was an abusive, manipulative, total bastard. He did not deserve Amber's love. Amber wasn't able to see my reasoning, so I needed to resort to other methods of getting Brandon out of the picture.

Luckily, I have my ancestry to thank for my devised plan. A family of witches that dated back several generations. A well-guarded secret from neighbors, friends, and...even loved ones. No one knew the true me. Not even Amber.

It was a secret that must be kept safe at all costs. No magic should be performed without the family counsel knowing, down to the smallest incantation. I'd broken the rule, brewing the potion without the counsel's consent. They never would've allowed it, anyways. Petty acts of love, they would've called it.

It wasn't petty love. It was real. I loved Amber, and every day it tore me apart to see her shown off like a trophy, only to be tossed on the shelf afterwards. So I broke the rule. I stored up months of mana in secret, gathered the ingredients without arousing any suspicion, and made enough transformation potion to take care of Brandon.

And now those months of work are being swallowed by the wrong target. I won't get my satisfaction tonight. It'd be another several months before I could try again. In hindsight, I could've swept in and done something. Offered another drink to the bunny. Shit, even making him spill it would've been a better outcome. Now I had to clean up my mess while boiling at the fact that Brandon, drunk off his ass, had unknowingly avoided my trap. Speaking of drunk...

I looked to the various bottles of alcohol laid out on the kitchen counterspace. As I watched the bunny wander back to his bedroom, potion still in one hand and clutching his stomach with the other, I poured myself some whiskey and tossed it back without a second of hesitation. The plan was fucked, but the night was still young. Might as well live it up.

Gus wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, so long as no one was around to see his transformation. Whether he was a pair of underwear, socks, a shirt, or whatever he changed into--It was more difficult to refine the potion into a specific type of transformation, and it was a bit of fun not knowing what the outcome would be--I'd pick him up the following day, or whenever I'd get the chance, and I'd bury this incident in the back of my dresser. Even if I wasn't able to grab him before someone else did, there wasn't a chance in hell they'd figure out that he was now a piece of clothing. They'd search all over for the poor bunny, none the wiser that they were wearing him the whole time.

I was really looking forward to torturing Brandon, too... But as I swallowed down another shot of a cheap liquor I'd picked out, I mostly thought about the beautiful golden retriever I'd failed to save. I'd failed Amber. I'd lost my chance to win her over, and simultaneously sentenced her to potentially another year with that dickhead. Maybe she'd figure out how much of a dickhead he was and dump his ass. I could only hope so.

Most of all, I wanted to see her eyes not look so sad all the time. Eyes made of sapphire gems only deserve happiness and love.

I woke up the next morning with a gnarly headache and a knock on my dorm room door. "I'm up! I'm up!" I called out to the persistent thud of someone's fist against wood. Stumbling my way out of bed and into some respectable clothing, I answered the door. To my surprise, it was Amber outside.

"Oh--hey, what's up?"

"I can't reach Brandon. I've been calling and texting him, but he won't answer. I--I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with this--"

"You're not bothering me," I interrupted. She clearly looked a bit torn up. Even her voice was a bit shaky. "Did something happen? Did he--did he hurt you?"

Her hesitation was enough of an answer.

That. Prick.

Amber surely noticed my muzzle scrunching up in anger. "No--uhm. It wasn't that bad, Rachel. He was drunk--"

"That's a shit excuse for how he treats you."

"Yeah... I know. I'm not playing dumb about it. It's just..."

I waited for a reason that didn't come. "...Just what?"

"I don't know," Amber finally answers. I can see she's on the verge of tears now.

"Come here. It's okay, I'm here, I'm listening..."

She does finally let the floodgates open she'd been trying so hard to hold back. I place her head on my shoulder, trying to comfort her the best I can. No need to say any more words, just being there for her was enough.

I wanted so badly to be there for her always. I wanted her to stop feeling this way. I wanted to stop Brandon from making her feel this way.

She finally picks herself up, wiping tears and mascara into her fur. She nods to me with a smile as if to prove she's fine, she's alright, sniffling and breathing in quick, short breaths. She's not alright, and it pains me to see her this way.

"You want to share what happened?"

"I..."

"I'm here for you, Amber. I'm not gonna judge."

"I know." She sucks in a deeper breath and straightens a bit. "After you left, he started getting a bit rough with me. I like it when he flirts with me, but not when he's drunk. I--I tried to push him away, but he was grabbing, shoving. I panicked and starting kicking. Got him in the shin."

"Should've landed a shot on his balls."

She laughed a bit at that. "Yeah, maybe I should have. He let go then, and I left. Not before he yelled at me... It was embarrassing, being mocked and harassed like that, in front of our friends."

"Those aren't your friends. Friends would've helped you. Friends would've told him to shut the fuck up."

"He wasn't thinking clearly," Amber muttered.

"He wasn't thinking," I clarified. "Please, Amber, for the goodness of your heart and the happiness you deserve, dump his ass."

She was silent, but I saw how much she was thinking about it. It was an endless cycle of thinking, I'm sure. I'd shut up about it, for the most part, but I couldn't shut up anymore.

"Amber." I put her hands in mine. "Please. You deserve better. I want you to have better. I--"

What more did I have to lose? Time to shoot my shot.

"I love you."

She doesn't jump. She doesn't snarl, or gasp, or retreat from my tender grasp. She does stiffen up, and her breath cuts abruptly. What was she thinking right now? Did I make a mistake?

"Rachel, I..."

"If you don't know what to say, I understand. It's not every day your best friend confides feelings for you."

"Yeah. I'm surprised--but at the same time, I'm not, you know?" She dips her eyes to our hands, still holding each other. "I do appreciate all the times you've been there for me. I do need some time to process this, but I think you are right about one thing. I can't keep doing this. I need to break it off with him, for good."

"At least do that for yourself, girl. You'll thank yourself in the future. Want to go to his place now?"

There is some fear on her face. Of course there would be, I would've been afraid too, but there was strength in her to stand up against the shepherd. Come on, Amber, believe in yourself girl!

"Fuck it, let's go."

That's more like it.

We both hop in Amber's car for the short ride over to his apartment. I'm curious what went on between the two of them, so I ask her, "He hasn't said anything since last night?"

"No, which is unusual. He always tries to make up in the morning with some sweet talk, but I've heard absolutely nothing."

"Hmm."

"Probably still passed out somewhere," Amber said with agitation rumbling in her throat.

"Probably."

...But at nearly one in the afternoon?

There's no way he drank it, right?

"I could only hope..."

"Did you say something?" Amber asked.

"Sorry, just thinking aloud."

Passing through the apartment door, the first thing we both noticed was the mess. It was impossible not to notice. And then there was the smell, like alcohol was sitting in the air, waiting to assault our noses. With how many open cans of beer and liquor there were on the counters, it was no surprise how badly the place reeked.

We passed the empty living room, filled with more trash, and turned left into the bedroom hallway, but before we even reached Brandon's door, it swung open wide.

"Oh fuck--Jesus, you two scared the shit outta me!"

The wolf in front of us was definitely not Brandon. Firstly, she was a chick_._ Second, she was not anyone I'd seen before, actually. Her charcoal fur was a little damp, like she'd freshly showered. She was attractive, and that's all I needed to know to understand why she was here; the German Shepherd had no problem belittling Amber in front of his friends, enough for her to storm out of his birthday party, so why wouldn't he also resort to cheating behind her back? Anything to get his dick wet, that jackass.

"Who the fuck are you?" asked Amber, some venom dripping from her words. The retriever's fluffy tail was on full alert, sticking upwards and rigid. I'm not idiotic enough to think she'd let go of her love for him so quickly, but it still hurt to hear the jealousy in her voice, jealousy for someone undeserving of those feelings.

"Oh! I'm Christine. Am I--" she quickly glanced back behind her. "Are you looking for Brandon?"

"Yeah, actually, we are. You must've seen him, since you're in his room."

"Yeah, he was here last night. But I haven't seen him since I woke up, like, an hour or so ago. I thought he'd come back with something to eat, but then I saw that his wallet and keys were still in here, so I'm kinda confused."

I was intrigued with what she said, a little too much so. My ears gave away my excitement. Luckily it went unnoticed; either the wolf was too ditzy or too preoccupied with getting out of here to catch my slip up.

"Well I gotta get going, so... nice meeting you two!"

Amber wasn't even looking her way anymore, and I didn't care enough to say goodbyes to someone I didn't know, so Christine had to awkwardly shuffle past us in silence. I watched her slip out of sight and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the front door shut. One less problem to deal with--so long as the wolf hadn't run off with any mysterious pieces of clothing.

"She wasn't lying..."

I walked into Brandon's room to see what Amber meant. On the nightstand were a set of keys and a wallet. Just like Christine had mentioned. Hope was slowly blossoming. Better not get too hopeful; I'd hate to be disappointed when the idiot comes stumbling unexpectedly into his apartment.

While Amber tried ringing him up, I began my search. Trying to be sneaky about it, I check the floor on each side of his bed, inside his closet, around his desk...

"Brandon, it's Amber. Please let me know you're safe..."

As if he ever needed to be worried about. All the time, giving Amber heart attacks with the things he did. All the time, breaking her heart and letting her pick up the pieces afterwards.

"...We need to talk, too. Just--call me back as soon as you can."

If Brandon had succumbed to my potion, it didn't happen when he was in his bedroom. I shrugged to Amber, and I could see an intermingling of worry and frustration on her face. She never needed to look that way. She never should feel that way.

"Maybe I can call his roommate?" she asked.

"You have his number?"

"He's helped me find Brandon more often than Brandon has."

"No surprise."

I needed to snoop around the rest of the apartment without Amber behind me, so I gladly took the opportunity while she rung up Gus. I knew he wouldn't answer. His new body must still be lying somewhere in his room.

But when I opened Gus' door and took a quick look around, I found nothing. Much cleaner than Brandon's room, so any odd piece of clothing would surely stick out. His phone was in here, sitting on his desk, buzzing from the phone call being sent one room over. I chose to ignore it for now and play dumb about it later.

The one thing that caught my eye was an empty glass on his nightstand. I picked it up and took a sniff. A sweet, cupcake smell lingered at the bottom. This was my brew. Had the bunny managed to finish it off? He would've needed to do it fast; with his tiny body, it would've taken no time for the changes to start.

Not wasting anymore time, I peek into the bathroom, and when I find nothing abnormal there, move back to the living room. There were plenty of things littered across the wooden floor here, but my eyes were immediately drawn towards purple and white. Between the sofa and kitchen bar, tucked away from our view when we'd walked in, were two thigh-high socks looped through a pair of booty shorts.

Two sets of odd-looking clothes, out in the open?

This had to be them.

It worked. It fucking worked!

"You're mine now," I whispered.

I quickly scooped the socks and shorts into my purse--I'd brought one plenty big enough for the occasion, in case I'd found a dress or some equally large piece of clothing--and it was done. A phone, Brandon's phone, was underneath one of the socks, but I didn't need to take that. Having his phone on me would be very suspicious, but wearing a cute pair of thigh-highs and tight-fitting shorts wouldn't raise any alarms.

They were mine, and I was completely in the clear.

I'd gloat about it later, though. For now, I'd console Amber, be a shoulder for her to lean on. As soon as I was alone again...

Brandon would get a taste of my sweat-filled revenge.

Things somehow managed to go from bad to worse.

It seemed impossible to think that; I'd been up close and personal with Brandon's cock and balls earlier today, how could it get worse?

But it certainly did. I got to observe Brandon's certain demise, which wasn't necessarily the worst thing. I saw light again when the lower half of the shepherd's body had changed. His chestnut brown legs were now long socks of purple and white, which was funny in a "my life is falling apart and any reprieve from thinking about it I find hilarious" kinda way. Since he was wearing me, each sock was still threaded through my leg holes, so by the time the transformation was finished, we were both entwined on our apartment floor.

Silence once again.

It was more or less the same amount of agonizing. Less so because at least I wasn't in pure darkness, listening to my roommate getting it on. More so because now I was stuck in this hell with Brandon, my one hope of getting out of this. So close to him--on top of him--yet we may as well been on different continents now.

Honestly, it wasn't like I was really that hopeful before Brandon was sockified. The German Shepherd never knew I needed saving. He only knew I needed wearing. And so that's exactly what he'd done. He'd worn me.

I'd been trapped against his sweaty balls for only a few minutes, and it was one of the worst imaginable things I could've ever experienced. It wasn't just that my entire existence had devolved to cradling his nuts. It was the overwhelming dread that I'd be cradling his nuts for the rest of my life. Smelling, tasting, feeling. I'd go wherever he went, hearing him enjoy his life while I succumbed to the mind-numbing oblivion that was his waist.

I was fortunate to avoid that fate. I can only assume he was a rough person on his clothes... Should I be glad to last longer? Maybe to avoid the horrors beyond--dumped in the garbage, dropped in some landfill to slowly decompose. That was a morbid thought I tried to pass up past the first time of thinking it.

As we both sat there, more hours ticked by. In those hours, we heard a click of a doorway opening. It wasn't the squeaking hinges of our apartment's front door. Footsteps down the hallway made it out to be someone from Brandon's room. I couldn't see them--couldn't see anyone unless they stood directly above me--but I assumed it was Amber. Could I hope that she'd figure this out, if Brandon didn't?

At least she wouldn't get caught up in this mess with us.

Another door closed, and I heard the shower turn on in our bathroom. If I had any humor left about our predicament--and the ability to speak--maybe I'd say aloud that we'd wait right where we were.

Once Amber was done with her shower, she immediately went back down the hallway to Brandon's. Another long stretch of time passed, and this time the front door opened. Two pairs of footsteps entered. Who's were they?

They both made directly for Brandon's room, and after some surprised exclamations and shared information, I figured out who was who. The person who'd come from Brandon's room was in fact not Amber. Could I say that I was surprised?

Amber and her close friend Rachel, a raccoon I'd seen around plenty with the other two, had entered the apartment just now. They both asked the mystery girl about Brandon. We were just several feet away from our would-be saviors without any way of getting their attention.

I heard them rummage around in his room, call his phone, and talk about calling mine next. My bedroom door was opened as Amber's call went to voicemail. They'd find it soon enough, plugged into the charge on my bedroom desk. Footsteps approached again, and Rachel's face came into view above. Obviously she'd be curious about an odd pair of thigh-highs on the floor, but--

"You're mine now."

...What?

I couldn't--I didn't want to--comprehend her words. It just didn't match up. The quiet, sometimes standoffish raccoon did this? How did that add up?

Sure enough, she stuffed us both quickly into her bag. I was now in darkness again. I was just as terrified, if not more so. The hunger in Rachel's eyes. What she said. ­You're mine now. Those were not the words I wanted to hear. Those were not the words of a would-be savior.

Those were the words of our torturer.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

As Rachel met back up with Amber and continued playing along with the search, even going so far as "finding" Brandon's phone, I asked myself one burning question. Why me?

Why me?

I wasn't the target, was I? No, that wouldn't make sense. Think, Gus, think.

She was Brandon's friend, wasn't she? I'd thought so. She hung around them often enough. She was at his birthday party last night. Amber wasn't around... I didn't think much of it at the time. Maybe she and Brandon got in another argument, as they often did. He obviously didn't seem bothered; it was his birthday, after all.

I didn't get a good look at Rachel last night. Didn't know that I needed to, apparently. I did recall that she was close by when Brandon offered me that stupid drink. Was it meant for him? Had her plan gone sideways when he pressured me to take the drink instead?

Damnit--that meant I wasn't even supposed to be caught up in all this. I was a casualty, all because Brandon wanted to rope me into his birthday fun. That drunken asshole. He'd done some shitty things to me, most of which I'd shrugged off because I was too nice. This took the cake, though. I really don't think I can forgive him for this one.

If I ever get turned back, I'm gonna kick his ass.

I could only hope I was going to be turned back.

She had to have known I was caught up in this. She saw me take his drink. She knew, she definitely knew. So maybe this was a good thing. She'd let me go free, in return that I never speak about this to anyone, and I happily live my life as a whole person again, knowing that Brandon would be tortured by the raccoon for the rest of his days.

Eh, he deserved it, anyways.

The search continued outside. Amber's worries escalated, Rachel attempted to soothe her worries, lying through her teeth every time she did so. Eventually they departed, Amber going separate ways to begin a missing person case, telling Rachel that it wasn't her problem to get roped into. Rachel's attempt to stay by her side through it all did seem genuine. That was odd.

You'd think that getting away with your captured target would be the number one priority, yet it didn't seem that way. Rachel kept pestering Amber to stay with her, to help her through this. Finally, it clicked into place, when Amber told her she'd be okay, and that she needed time alone to think about their relationship.

Oh. OH.

Brandon's disposal was for a purpose after all. With him out the picture, Rachel could slip right in and replace him. That was a surprise--but it also kinda made sense, now that I thought about how the raccoon was a bit short with Brandon at times. Now I knew that she only tolerated the shepherd so she could be around Amber. Yeah, that checked out.

And I managed to get in the middle of their love triangle.

Damnit, Brandon.

...I guess I should be mad at Rachel, too.

Rachel did go off on her own, after firm convincing from Amber. It'd been quite some time since we'd been stuffed in the bag, and now we were alone with our captor. We arrived at her single dorm room, and she wasted no time getting us out after closing her door.

"I gotta say--you're both looking good." She was smiling down at us, and there again was that hunger in her eyes. "You both are probably unraveling with questions. Hopefully I can answer them well enough, and then we can get on to the fun."

Uh oh.

"Firstly, the reason you're like this is because I'm a witch. Yeah, magic spells and wicked potions, all that kind of stuff. I'll just leave it at that."

"Secondly, Gus, sorry about... this. Wasn't my intention to bring you along for the ride. Brandon was my only target, but unfortunately he's--idiotic? Egotistical? An asshole? Whatever matches your thoughts. I should've done something to stop you, but honestly it caught me off guard."

She knelt down on her bed, resting directly in front of us. One gray-furred hand toyed with our fabric bodies, going back and forth between us.

"Bad news first, Gus. What's done is done, unfortunately. There's no turning you back."

If I had a heart, I think it would've stopped, froze over, and shattered into a thousand pieces at her words.

"Well... it is reversible, but a few problems with that. It takes a ridiculous amount of time to store up enough mana to reverse the spell, and the bigger problem is that I don't know which piece of clothing is you. If I guess wrong, I have to store up another buttload of mana, change Brandon again, and then store up another buttload of mana to change you back. Too risky. Plus, I don't ever want to change Brandon back. He's staying as clothing, forever. So, sorry to say Gus, but that means you are too."

...

...

...Fuck.

"If it makes you feel better--ah, who am I kidding, there's no silver lining to this for ya. Just, uh, get used to it, I guess?"

Amber's "comforting words" were not making it any better for me. I was doomed to be her clothing, slipped around her ass until my elastic body gave out.

"Brandon."

Oh boy, here comes the ass whooping.

"You're right where you belong. You might've mixed up Gus into this mess, but it won't save you. Sorry again, Gus, but I'm not going easy on my revenge just because you're caught in the crossfire. I've got a lot of catching up to do with Brandon."

Jeez, what did Brandon do?

"Brandon, Brandon, Brandon... I've been waiting so long for you to get what's coming to you. For fucking over Amber too many times. For treating her like shit. Over and over again, you said and did the most horrible things to her. Everyone always looked the other way when it happened, and eventually I couldn't stand watching any longer, so I came up with this nifty idea. You see, I'll be the one that's going to give what's coming to you. I'm gonna put you through a hell one hundred times worse than what you put Amber through, and you'll get the added torture of watching Amber and I fall in love, unable to do anything about it."

Holy shit, she wasn't playing around. Every word came out a little more harshly, until the last few words were likely to burn worse than acid.

At the end of her tirade, she paused to catch her breath, then continued on as if all was right again, "So, any other questions? Don't be shy! Nothing else...? Good! Let's get changed then!"

Oh no. No no no no.

There was nothing to stop the raccoon. She'd won. We'd lost. And now was her victory lap. It was time to give us the grand tour of our forever stay at Rachel's personal resort. The raccoon stood up, tall and godly, looking down on us pitiful clothes. She was taking her time, because she had all the time in the world to acquaint ourselves with her body. The passion in her eyes, the cruelty in her smile. This was really happening. My first day of many as Rachel's shorts.

The raccoon didn't have too much to strip off. Her shirt didn't need to go, just everything below it. Her shoes were already off, and so she first peeled off her socks. They looked well used. Knowing what we both must've been thinking, she made a show of plugging her nose at the stench of her own socks.

"Whew, those boys are rancid! Luckily I've got a lovely new pair to replace them."

The socks were flung into a nearby laundry basket, and her hands went to the next article of clothing. One at a time, she slipped out of her pants, and then her underwear. She held up the soiled panties for us to see, before those too followed the other clothes into the bin.

"Time to get to work, boys."

Apparently I was up first. I was picked up and dangled in front of her face. She looked impossibly huge, only because I was impossibly small. Her nose moved a bit, catching a whiff of me, or more precisely, of Brandon's scent on me.

"You've already been worn!" Rachel said, even noticing the dried streak of cum on the inside, picking at it with a finger. "Hah! Brandon wore you, didn't he! That's why you two were tangled up! That's hilarious! A bit of bonding time before it all came to an end, isn't that sweet?"

I wouldn't necessarily agree--not that she cared.

"Wait a minute..." something seemed to click together on the raccoon's face. "at least that helps me know who's who!"

Wait, that's right! She does know I'm Gus and that the socks are Brandon, which means she'll change me back--

"...Buuut I'm still not changing you back. Not anytime soon, at least." While my hopes evaporated as soon as they appeared, she continued on, "you understand, right? Well, maybe you don't, since you don't know how hard mana is to collect. I can assure you that it is very strenuous." She gives an exasperated sigh, as if even thinking about trying to save me was an impossible task. "At least I can go easy on you; try to make the ride as smooth as possible, so to speak."

With two raccoon paws through my leg holes and one shimmy past her rump, it was done. I was being worn. It wasn't better or worse than what I'd already experienced with my short time with Brandon. Steamy, sticky, smelly. Just another person's genitalia, encompassing my entire body.

"Hope I'm not too potent down there. I've been told I have a strong smell; I am a raccoon, after all."

Whoever told her that wasn't lying. It was a powerful smell, slowly leaking into my strands, staining my body with her scent. It would hopefully be a smell I would grow accustomed to, or maybe even learn to enjoy, otherwise this would truly be a living hell.

"Well, now that you're nice and snug, onto my real target. Hope you're ready for this, Brandon. I know I am."

I would've screamed and shouted until my throat was raw. I would've kicked and swung at my captor, hoping to make my escape. I'd do anything to get away from this raccoon bitch.

I should've known it was Rachel that did this!

I wish that were actually true. The fact was that I'd been played. I never knew what she'd been planning. I never knew how much she apparently hated me. I only knew that she was Amber's best friend. Rachel and I were never close friends, but I never thought we were enemies. She was never my enemy. Clearly I was hers.

And now, too late for me to realize my mistake of trusting her, the raccoon had me in the palm of her hand--both hands, one for each of my two bodies. I was only furious at first, when she picked both Gus and I up at our apartment and stuffed us into her bag. I was practically boiling after being tucked away for hours. I was frustrated at hearing Amber trying so hard to find me, when I was only a few feet away. I was raging at each lie that Rachel fed Amber, consoling my girlfriend with her newfound affection.

That's what this was all about. I'd been in Rachel's way. She loved Amber, and I was just a hurdle to jump over. That bitch offed me to get with my girl. I was angry, fuming, pissed off to hell and back. But when she finally was alone and able to freely speak with us, and I saw the giant raccoon's sadistic grin, I felt fear.

I saw the hate she had for me. I heard the conviction she spelled out. I'd get what's coming to me. That's what she'd said. I watched in horror as she snapped Gus into place around her hips without a second thought for the poor bunny. Then her gaze shifted over to me.

"Hope you're ready for this, Brandon. I know I am."

I wasn't ready! I didn't want to be worn! I was the life of the party! I was someone, a person. The hands clasping my opening were not real. The paw lowering towards me wasn't real. I was a German Shepherd, the top dog! I wasn't a pair of socks!

I felt the first insertion of her toes into my fabric insides, the sole thereafter filling me out, stretching my threads.

I wasn't a pair of socks.

Down and down her foot explored. Up and up her leg I traveled. Already I was at her calf, and soon passed. The deeper she went into my socked form, yanking and adjusting another few inches higher, the more of her skin I could feel, I could taste.

I wasn't a pair of socks...

I felt a fullness in me now, like I'd had finished off a three-course meal, but there was still more of her pushing inwards. I was halfway up her thigh, and the stretching I was receiving started to become too much. I was too full, overindulged. I couldn't take another bite. My feelings didn't matter, and so I was pulled higher. I was squeezed tighter. I was stretched thinner.

I wasn't...

"There you go, a perfect fit." A snap of my opening indicated satisfaction from my wearer. My threaded skin bulged to an excess that felt simultaneously sickly and fulfilling. Every fiber of my new being was used with newfound purpose. I was a perfect fit.

But there was a second half of me that, when the sensations of being put on subsided, was so lonely. Empty, without the same purpose my first half was introduced to. My duty was still not done.

I wasn't... one sock, but two...

Another foot was ready in front of my opening, and there was that feeling again--a pushing and prodding that slowly ran through my entire consciousness. I was no longer thinking. I was no longer myself. I merely existed as a pair of socks were meant to. What could I do? I wasn't a German Shepherd anymore. I was once strong and fast. Now I cannot move. I was once charming and brave. Now I'm without any way to convey emotions or personality. My chestnut fur coat, sleek and beautiful, was replaced with purple and white threads.

With her second leg fit inside me, I again felt the pleasure of being worn. I was still horrified, still scared shitless by this maniac bitch. I was still struggling with the fact that I was no longer in control of my own life. Yet despite all these fears and terrors, the feeling of being worn soothed them. Tidal waves were eased to ripples on the surface. A sedation overtook me.

Rachel stepped over to a mirror, and I was able to see myself, too. Purple and white thigh-highs, only a thin line of fur separating the top of myself from the bottom of her red shorts. Inches separating me and my roommate.

"Oh wow, this is perfect!" She twisted her body this way and that, admiring her figure in all sorts of different poses. "I absolutely adore this new look! You two make a cute pair. I'm sure Amber will love it, too. I just need one more thing..."

She opened her dresser drawer, shifting around a few things before finding what she was looking for. She moved too quickly for me to see what she had. I only figured it out when I felt metal clasp onto me with an audible click.

The mirror came into focus again, and I saw the new addition of a garter belt around her waist. "There--can't have you slipping down any! Unfortunately I only have black; I'll have to order something that better matches."

She admired herself for some time, doing some micro adjustments until we were exactly to her liking. I felt a resurfacing of dread when she pulled her phone out. She snapped a few pictures--more than a few--and I had a thought of how I'd be mocked by my bros if they ever found out.

Why did I even have that thought? I wasn't even technically alive anymore! I was just a pair of socks being accessorized in a picture. In a semester they'll forget about me. They'll hear my name and say, oh yeah, Brandon, shame no one found him, and later masturbate to Rachel's thigh-high pics!

"Just a few keepsake pictures to remember how it all started," she said aloud.

I was unsure if she was even saying that for our benefit or not. She sat on her bed, flicking through her phone, seemingly moving on to other things. While her hands were busy, her feet idly rubbed against one another. She was teasing me, smothering me with her musky scent--or maybe not.

Maybe this was my new normal. We weren't anymore special than her other clothes, why should she need to pay attention to us? Our wearer would simply wear us. That was our purpose--to be worn.

I already felt my old self slipping away. I already felt forgotten.

"Happy anniversary babe!"

I looked down at the gift-wrapped present given to me, smiling ear to ear. "Aww, thanks cutie." I leaned in for another kiss from the Golden Retriever.

"Alright, go ahead and open it!" Amber said.

She looked especially pleased with herself, so I wondered what she had planned. Ripping open the wrapping, I lifted the top off the box, revealing packaging inside with the label "Playful Devil".

"Oh no you didn't!" I exclaimed.

"Oh yes I did!"

The rest of the packing paper was cleared away to reveal the sex toy in all its glory. Inside was a whopper dildo with two heads on each end. Advertised on the plastic packaging were the words "vibrator on both ends!" I noticed it'd already been cut open, allowing me to quickly fish out the silicone toy.

"I already opened it so I could charge it; no need to wait--if you're ready, that is."

"Mmm, I'm definitely ready, baby."

"Okay, then I'm going to need you to get changed first. I want you in my favorite outfit."

I knew very well what she meant. "Pink heart shorts and thigh-highs?"

"Pink heart shorts and thigh-highs--and nothing else."

"Anything for you, cutie."

I got up off our bed and headed for the dresser. It wasn't too difficult to find the shorts and socks, as regularly I used them, though they'd been stuffed to the back more often lately. Whenever they did come out, I was happily reminded of what made the clothes so special, unbeknownst to Amber. I knew who the clothes were.

I mouthed a hello, knowing well enough they were able to see me. The two roommates had gotten to know each other very well over the past year. Amber loved the outfit as much as I did, both of us frequently wearing the pair during sex. It felt especially vindicative to know her ex-boyfriend was stuck to sock duty while we fucked. I was sure to make a mess of him by the end of it, too.

Stripping down nude, I slipped Gus and Brandon on while Amber catcalled me from behind, and I took a moment to admire my girlfriend from the foot of the bed. There were no words to describe how sexy she looked.

"I don't like being kept waiting for my good girl," she purred.

"Your good girl is coming right now!" I growled back, pouncing onto the bed.

Amber wasn't one to take it slow. She must've been extra hungry for me today as her hands grabbed both my breasts and her muzzle pressed into mine. She knew just how to touch me--how hard to pinch my nipples, how much to force her tongue into my mouth. She was the one in control. We'd quickly discovered it was her kink, something she never was able to explore with Brandon.

"Mmph--fuck me..." I said.

"With pleasure."

One hand let go of my breast, trailing down my chest and under my shorts. I squirmed at the first touch of her hands against my vulva, rubbing two fingers up and down to get me warmed up. The retriever planted one last kiss on my mouth before lowering her head to my available breast. She knew how much I adored her sucking. I grabbed her floppy ears, needing something to hold onto with how much excitement my body was receiving. My baby was tender when she wanted to be, but now was not that time.

With her tongue twirling and teeth nipping, I was riding waves of ecstasy. I was treated welsl by my lover. I would treat her well in return, just as she deserved. Never would she be neglected, abused, gaslit, or any of the nasty ways Brandon had controlled her. She deserved only love and affection. I'd give her everything I had and more.

Two fingers pushed into me, and I couldn't hold back a gasp as she rubbed on both the inside and outside. Unlike other partners I had, she knew exactly where my clit was, and just how to excite it. She found a rhythm, gently pumping her fingers in my pussy to get me relaxed and ready for the main event. She swapped to my other nipple, sucking and teasing that one too. I was already getting too hot from her foreplay.

"Baby--baby, I'm gonna cum if you keep it up."

"Mmm, that's the idea, good girl," Amber said, smiling up at me from my left tit. "But I suppose that we can try out the toy, if you want."

"I need to warm you up, too."

She giggled at my considerate offer. "How so?"

Without answering, I pull her hand out from my shorts and reposition my body on the bed. Tugging her shorts off, I pull aside her panties and let my tongue get to work on her pussy.

"Oh, fuck yes... That's my good girl..."

Amber did love oral the most. She loved the way I gave oral the most. She tried a few times with Brandon, and she'd always share with me afterwards on how rushed it'd felt, like it was just a quick job to get out of the way before he'd thrust his dick in her. I hated that for her. I never wanted her sexual pleasure to be second-rate to mine.

Sucking on her clit drove her mad with heat, so I had to build up to that. Slow, fat licks up her vulva, tiny flicks of my tongue at her clit. I spread her with my fingers, probing my tongue as deep I could, my muzzle planted directly into the center of her pussy. I watched her face scrunch a bit, mouth hanging open to emit breathy moans. She took the opportunity to stimulate her own breasts, groping at her fatty orbs while I continued eating her out.

I finally dared to ramp it up. Not wanting to send her over the edge, I only did short bursts of intense sucking. When I did so, I always felt so satisfied when her hips bucked up just a little, showing me just how much she was enjoying it.

"Okay... Okay! No more good girl, I think it's time to try out your anniversary gift."

I nodded, planting one last kiss on her clit before backing off. Amber leaned over the bed, giving me a good view of her cute ass, and picked out the lube on our nightstand. I helped out by holding the lengthy, two-sided dildo if front of me while she liberally poured it on.

"Should my good girl go first?" she asked, satisfied with the slipperiness of our new toy. I nodded again, more vigorously this time, and she twirled her finger in a circle. "My good girl needs to lie down, then."

I laid down on my back and straddled my legs around her waist. Lining up the dildo and pulling my shorts to the side, I feel the cold tip touch my lips, push them aside, and slide right in. It wasn't an extremely girthy dildo, but it still was decent enough size to surprise me with a sharp pain. I couldn't help a little wince, and she noticed too, so the dildo didn't go any further in.

"Let me know when you're ready, baby," Amber said. Always looking out for me. Always wanting to treat me as best she could. One of the many reasons I loved her. Luckily it was only a short stab of pain, quickly fading to a pleasurable feeling of fullness.

"Yeah, I'm good now--fuck me!"

She pushed another few inches into me, and another few after that, but stopped just short of my limit as she lined up her pussy to mine. Time for her to join the fun. With her panties out of the way, she shoved herself onto the other end of the dildo. Her pain threshold beat mine by a landslide, so there was no stopping her once she started. Soon enough she bottomed out, and her pushing bottomed me out as well. Both of us were a few inches shy of the middle ridge on the dildo, which worked out perfectly for us, since that was where the vibrator controls were at. I tensed in readiness when Amber began to fiddle with the buttons, yet I still wasn't ready when it started.

"Whoo! Haaah... Holy shit!" I said, involuntarily spasming below. Amber echoed her own surprise with a low, rumbling mewl. With both vibrators on, we began to move a bit, trying to get a feel of how best to do this. I decided to follow her lead, as I always had, and tried to match her thrusts. That did the trick. Once we got synced up, both of us were mashing into our ends of the dildo in perfect unison.

I laced my fingers with hers, enjoying the intimate moment we were having, while Amber grabbed one of my foot paws and pressed it against her snout, breathing in my scent. It was a shared kink of ours that we'd discovered recently. It was especially kinky to her because she loved my scent, which I thought was fucking adorable. It was especially kinky to me because Brandon was literally being rubbed in the face of his ex-girlfriend--without her knowing any better of his torment.

I stopped washing my socks after I learned how much Amber loved my stink. All the better for her, all the worse for Brandon. So, a win-win, right? My thigh-highs were most certainly ripe with my sweat and musk, but that only seemed to make Amber all the more crazy for them.

I adored that about my girlfriend. I mean, I'd already adored her anyways of course, but her love of my scent was icing on the cake. She complained constantly that she never could get enough of it. Hearing your girlfriend complain she couldn't get enough of you, that she acted like a junkie lusting after my smell... there wasn't anything better in the world.

Of course, I couldn't get enough of her myself, don't get me wrong. I loved treating her right. I loved hearing her orgasm highs. I loved telling her how much I loved her. Even with all that, I still couldn't match her love for me.

Unexpected gifts, like the one we were enjoying now, were such a constant from her that I almost expected them by now. As often as I told her I didn't need gifts, as often as I said that I only needed her, she'd double down with her affection. I tried to catch up, but that's all I seemed to be doing--catching up.

If doing all this for me made her happy, then I wasn't going to stop her, because I never grew tired of seeing her happy.

"Does my good girl want to go faster?"

"Mmh--yes, faster baby!" Once we were both matching our new pace, we were really moving. In and out, in and out. Sounds of squelching and moaning filled the air like music. Amber had to hold the dildo steady with how much friction we were causing. Still huffing my paws like a junkie, I could tell the retriever was getting close--her tail stopped wagging when she was nearly over the peak. My climax wasn't far behind at all.

I relished the feeling on her breath on my toes. Huffing my stink so deeply. Fuck... maybe I was closer than I thought.

"Ah, baby... I'm--aah..." I was definitely closer than I thought.

"Cum for me, good girl."

I did as my baby commanded.

I took as much of the dildo as I could just as the rush of my orgasm peaked. I cried out to my girlfriend--my soulmate--wanting her to hear every second of my orgasm. I squirmed and twisted. My chest burned hot. I was shaky but glowing. Through all my feelings and emotions, love shown brightest.

I heard her answer my love with her own cries. She speared herself on the dildo, taking more than I managed, and massaged her clit aggressively as she came hard. She was a squirter, not that I minded. Thigh-high socks were great at absorbing piss, cum, and any other bodily fluids. Brandon didn't seem to mind, either--he never spoke up about it, at least.

"...Shit. That was a lot," Amber said. She pulled the dildo out of both our pussies, letting it flop in her hand, our juices shining on the silicone surface. I didn't hesitate to try a taste. The retriever giggled as I slid my tongue down the shaft, over her fingers, and finished with a bit of suckling on her end. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yes ma'am," I answered.

"That's my good girl."

I rubbed one foot on the side of her face and the other against her pussy lips. Brandon had plenty to clean up tonight. Gus had his work cut out for him, too. I could feel the dampness soaking through the bunny-turned-shorts. I'd make sure to give him a thorough cleaning next laundry day.

Brandon would get no such kindness. Once we were finished, I'd stuff his cum-soaked body right back in that drawer. The only kindness he'd get from me is the privilege of soaking up our sweat and mopping up our messy fun.

While my thoughts were on Brandon, now was the perfect time to share my anniversary gift before tucking him away again. He'd want to see this--or rather, I wanted him to see this. "Close your eyes cutie."

Amber tilted her head at me, ears perked in interest, but she obliged my request. I went to my backpack, picking out a small box of pearly white. I needed the assurance that everything was just right, so for the hundredth time today, I flipped open the front latch with a delicate touch.

In the center of the box was a white gold ring, and at the crest, a sapphire gem. Sapphire, just like her pretty eyes, and not just any gem--a gem forged in my love. Since our first month together, I've taken every opportunity to toil over this ring, pouring intimate magics into the metal, little by little, day by day, nearly a year in the making. Imbued with a complicated weaving of several protection spells, it was my gift to her. The gift of my heart.

I crouched down in front of her, keeping the box held close to my chest. This would be the beginning of our story. I'd invite my family to accept her as their own. She'd learn who I truly was, and I wasn't scared of her rejecting me for it. I'd plan a magnificent wedding to celebrate the rest of our lives together.

My lover, with her eyes still closed and tail wagging a mile a minute, looked so beautiful in this moment. She always did to me. I never wanted to lose her. I never wanted to live another day without her.

Did I say that I was always trying to catch up?

Not anymore.

"Open your eyes."