I’m back! We shall see for how long!
As requested by Renee…
Thanks for the feedback!
You listen carefully to what your wearer is saying, and it slowly dawns on you what this means. Its all starting to make since now. Why you can understand language, why you think using complicated words and phrases you’ve never heard, or why you can think at all. Bras don’t think. And yet you are. And that face of hers is looking very familiar now. You concentrate, trying to think over the ebbing need in the back of your mind to be worn by this goddess. But as you concentrate, you feel memories coming back to you. You were human before all of this. You were a male human, whose name still escapes you, but you had some former relationship with this girl. Were you her brother? No. It was more than that. You must’ve been romantically involved, that’s it. Probably her boyfriend.
You were quite successful you remember. You had your own business where you sold…something. Maybe you sold bras. Or maybe that’s all you can really think about right now. The thought of moving around seems strange and foreign, but interesting. You remember being huge in comparison to your current form, moving and interacting with your fellow man. You remember the feeling you got when you kissed this woman that is wearing you, and how it was not unlike what it felt like to be worn (being worn felt much better though).
“So you do remember…” you heard your wearer said. Her hand was on your cup, sending shivers through you, and she was smiling as she looked directly at you. You keep remembering things from your past life. As you remember, you begin to feel a small amount of anger build up. If that was your life, why would she take it away? Being a bra was much better, yes, but why should this goddess- you mean girl be the judge and jury, and completely rob you of the last twenty three years.
“You don’t remember?” she laughed. “I wasn’t the one that asked to be a bra.”
I asked for this? You think, this time directly communicating with her. With every passing second, more of your old life is coming back to you. But the very last bit, right before you were transformed seems to be escaping you.
“Yes, Joe, you were practically begging for last night,” she said. “Remember? After I told you about my powers, you told me how sexy it would be a bra, wrapped around me?” You thought about it for a second, and it all started to come back to you. You did ask for this.
This is crazy, you thought, your mental faculties finally returning to a semi normal state. Who in his right mind would ask for this? I actually believed that I was nothing more than a bra!
“Like I said, I’m sorry for that bit,” she said. “But it’s all okay now, right? You’re back to yourself now. And it is sexy, is it now?”
It is, I guess, you thought, remembering back to being wrapped around her gorgeous breasts. You were drugged, for lack of a better term, at the time, but you bet that it still felt amazing to be worn when you weren’t drugged.
“Now, the way you put it, you wanted to be a bra for more than just a day, so you’re going to have to endure this for a bit longer, okay?”
I guess that’s fine, you think. Why can’t you just change me back now?
“Oh honey, where’s the fun in that?” she smiled. “You asked for it. Might as well enjoy it. Just a couple of weeks. Trust me, it’ll fly by. I’ll really only be able to wear you once or twice more since I do have to wash you tomorrow. I can’t stretch you out. Heaven knows how the reverse spell will be effected if any damage is done to you.”
Wash me?! You think.
“Good night, hon,” she says. “I’m going to bed, and you know I don’t wear bras at night, so I’ll see you in the morning.” She throws you in the laundry basket, and there you sit for hours as she busies herself, getting ready for bed. You attempt to communicate with her, but she makes no response to your efforts. You lie there on top of lots of other clothes, and eventually, you find yourself drifting off.
Your vision of the world clears as you are born into this world. Some may find it odd that you use the word “born”, as you were not truly born as much as made. You don’t remember much of being made. But you know you came from a factory of some sort. And somehow you were transported to where you are now: a store. The store is made up of many bright colors, which somehow you know are pink, purple, white, and a few other colors sprang to mind. You were never taught their names, but somehow, you know what to call them. The store is filled with many human beings, living things, and all the female of the species. They browse through the products, all of which are articles of clothing. Which is what you are, of course. You are a bra. A pink, frilly one at that. This makes you feel somewhat girly, and for some odd reason that comes with a bad connotation. But, seeing as you’ve only existed for a few minutes, and the only living things you’ve actually seen are girls, you quickly realize there is nothing wrong with being girly. If all goes well, you think to yourself, you’ll be spending the rest of your life, or existence, with a girl. So why not feel girly?
You feel very excited as a girl picks you up with her soft, delicate fingers. This makes you feel very good, as if your entire fabric is electrified. It makes you realize just how much you want someone to buy you. You look at her breasts, which seem to be proportioned perfectly to her body. And hopefully, would be proportioned perfectly to your body. She picks you up, and you feel the air catch your cups, swaying you upwards as she grabs your tag and examines it. She smiles, and drops you into a plastic bag filled with various other clothes. This makes your heart skip a beat. If you had a heart. Its weird, you think to yourself, because how would you know what it feels like for your heart to skip a beat? You don’t, of course, but your sure if you did have one, it would’ve skipped a beat.
You are scanned across a machine, and taken back to her house in the bag. She throws you on a bed, and there you lie for hours upon hours. You find yourself thinking of when she might wear you. Will it be fun? Will it be scary? All these questions run through your fabric mind as you wait. And soon, the wait is over as you see her come back in. She grabs a piece of clothing you identify as panties, and they have the same design and color as yourself. She pulls them over her legs slowly and sensually, and gives a half smile to herself as she does so. Its as if she was doing this for someone, but there is no one here but her. She then grabs you, and undoes your clasps. You feel the anticipation as she puts her two breasts into your cups, and your cold fabric is filled with warmth. The warmth brings feelings so good you are beside yourself. The feeling is so arousing. Arousing? You are not sure what that word means, and why you would make such a word up then and there to describe your feelings. But then again, there is not much for your mind to do, so making up words isn’t such a bad thing. You bathe in the pleasure, and you know this is what you were meant to do. You feel her snap your clasps behind her back. The breasts fall into place, and you feel the weight on your cups. But not too much weight. Just enough. You are a perfect fit, and you can’t imagine doing anything else.
In the mirror, you can see the lady, clad in a pink set of bra and panties which you know is half you. She looks simply amazing, and you can’t help but think that is, in part, due to you, and how good a job you are doing at making her look good. Now she can go out confidently, and be complimented by her friends. Maybe they’ll ask where she bought you. Maybe they’ll ask to borrow you. Maybe they’ll even steal you cause you make her look so good, but you highly doubt that. She looks down at her breasts, and puts her hand on your right cup. As she touches you, those arousing feelings intensify. Not that they aren’t already intense. She smiles, and then closes her eyes as if she were concentrating. Then she throws her head back in laughter, much to your confusion. But you don’t think about it too long as she throws on a beautiful red sundress, and your vision is partly obscured. It is cut a bit low, and you are thankful for this as it means you can see a little. Not that it matters that much. But, when one’s job it to make someone look good, it’s nice to see others noticing the fruit of your labor.
She put on some high heels, and jumped in her car. Although her breasts were not overly big (you somehow knew you were a B-Cup size), they still jiggle inside you, stimulating the arousing feeling all the more. She drove with the windows rolled down, and you can feel the air rush past you. She arrives at her destination, a nice restaurant, and takes a seat at a table with another human, but a male of the species. He, unlike her, seems somewhat repulsive. Not that he looks bad, but in your eyes, he has no ounce of attractiveness to him. Instead of soft, feminine features, he is hairy, and gruff. And he has nothing on his chest that you could ever imagine yourself being worn on. But, you can tell he is attractive to this goddess that is wearing you, because she is laughing and smiling a lot. And her breasts are getting somewhat hard within you. Not overly so, but enough that you can tell that she likes him. How you know this, you don’t know, but these signs seem to lead to a simple conclusion.
After the dinner, the man leads your wearer out to her car, and they talk for hours in the cool, midnight breeze. You watch as they share a kiss, and as his hand moves, she grabs it and puts it upon her breast. The touch, although masculine in nature, sends shock waves through you. As they kiss, you feel her arousal, or what you can only assume is the equivalent to your pleasure, and you begin to feel excitement. You’re not sure why, but it seems like the natural thing to do. Her breasts grow beneath you, and her steady breathing becomes faster. You can feel her heart pounding ninety miles an hour. And then it ended. He broke off, and she stared deeply into his eyes with an emotion you could never comprehend. Your excitement fades to simply contentment, and with that, the both of you drive home.
Back in her room, she begins to take her clothes off for bed. She throws her dress on her bed, and falls down, letting out a huge sigh and a bright smile on her face that you see reflected in the mirror. She then undoes you, and slowly slips out of you, much to your dismay. She does not let go of you though, and brings you up to her face.
“You have worked out so perfectly,” she said. This confused you. Why would she be talking to you? And how you comprehended her speech, you didn’t know. You had only existed for all of a day. “I know I did quite the whammy on you, and I don’t know if there’s really anything left of you in there. Last I checked there wasn’t. But, if you are in there, it won’t be too much longer. Give it a week or two, and I’ll have you back in the land of the living.”
* * * * * ** * * * * ** * * * * ** * * * * **
So, if you like that at all, here is what I ask of you, dear readers. If you would be so kind as to comment below with where you would like this story to go. Anything goes, and I will be making this into a bit of “Choose your own adventure” but more open ended. Be as detailed or as quick and simple as you want, just know the more freedom you give me, the more liberties I will take. And yes, I will try to make different branches as well. Who knows, may not work too well, but it could be fun 🙂
P.S. If you have any “visual aid” you want in the next branches, link ’em, and maybe I’ll make something work
So as a lot of you probably know, Purseboy is down. (Or at least from what I can tell). I know Ashley and the gang were really busy, and keeping a site of that magnitude running can be a very daunting task. We can all hope that they go back up soon, but until then, I will keep doing my best to keep this community alive. Purseboy remained one of the biggest sites devoted to Inanimate TF for a long time, and on the chance it should not return, it shall be missed.
Due to the turn in events, I would like to say that it has been my idea for a while to get an open source, almost like a wiki page, where everyone can post inanimate tf caps and stories, instead of going to various other tf places and filtering through the rest of the stuff. If anyone else likes the idea, or has suggestions, let me know and I’ll be looking into that in the little time that I have.
Anyways, thanks, and here’s a new cap!
As a model for sports illustrated, I had been asked, along with twelve of my colleagues, to come back at the end of the year to do a photo shoot for a calender they were putting together. And to boot, I was going to be on the front cover! I was excited beyond belief, and couldn’t wait to begin. The photographer took us out to the water (in the middle of November, I might add), and I posed. We took several shots, until finally the photographer told us this would be the last one, and he told me to “make it good”. I was relieved, since the water was freezing, and did my best for one more pose. But when he snapped the picture, the light blinded me, and I was knocked unconscious. When I came to I felt myself sliding slowly out of what felt like rollers, and I felt very…flat. I still felt as though I was in a bikini, and I was sitting in water though. As I slid out into the light, I found myself staring at the ceiling, unable to move. The photographer from earlier came up to me (he was now over a hundred feet tall), and picked me up as if I weighed close to nothing.
“You came out nicely, my dear,” he said. “You’ll go great on the cover of the calender.” He held me up to a mirror, and I saw him holding a flat piece of paper with my picture on it, only…it was me. I freaked out, but there was little I could do about my situation. He put me into another printer, and soon afterwards I found myself attached to the rest of my colleagues as a complete calender.
So how am I now? Well, I learned to accept the fact that I was a calender. The fact that I always feel wet is slightly annoying, but I do always look oh so sexy. Staring at some guy in his room who doesn’t even know who’s staring back. Anytime someone stares at me though, I can just feel their eyes dancing across my skin, and it heightens my pleasure a thousand fold. I guess that’s one perk. I long for the time when my owner brings guys over, and I feel three or four guys idly looking at me at once. The most annoying fact though is that I hardly see anyone anymore, seeing as it’s no longer 2012. Oh well, maybe he’ll recycle me, and I’ll become another calender. Whatever happens, it be a heck of a lot better than sitting in a drawer on top of eight other Sports Illustrated Calenders.