Copyright Oggbashan June 2015
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
This story refers to an older oggbashan story Miranda The Witch but stands alone.
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Rebecca and I are married witches belonging to a local coven. We had heard something of Miranda and Josh's exploits with a spell that transforms people temporarily into clothing (story Miranda The Witch).
Unfortunately for us, we hadn't heard the full story, nor the pre-conditions of that spell. There was a version of the spell circulating on the local witches' intranet and Rebecca downloaded it. She didn't look at the comments from others who had used it because she was too impatient, as she usually is.
Although we had discussed it idly one evening after a meeting of the coven, I had no idea that Rebecca actually had a copy of the spell, nor that she intended to use it on me.
A few days later we were getting ready for bed. I was tired. So was she. My commuter train had been delayed by a couple of hours -- again. She had spent most of a rare mid-week day off from her local job in an Estate Agents doing a thorough clean of our kitchen. I hadn't asked why. Normally we would have done that sort of clean together.
As I was about to pick up my pyjama jacket to put it on, Rebecca came up behind me, wrapped her arms around my waist, and leaned her head against my bare shoulder. That was nice. I enjoy an unexpected hug. She was holding something flimsy in her right hand, panties I thought.
But Rebecca was saying something very quietly, under her breath. I couldn't really hear what she was saying, but what I could hear didn't sound like English. I thought it might be a spell, perhaps to take away my tiredness?
It wasn't. I felt an unpleasant wrenching sensation. My pyjama trousers slid to the floor. Rebecca's hand seemed enormous, holding me scrunched between her fingers.
"It works!" she squealed. "It really works. Sorry Malcolm. I should have warned you. I've transformed you into a sleep bra. Like this one. See?"
She held up the bra she had held in her right hand. I was in her left hand until she carefully fitted me around her breasts that I like so much.
Often I had been close to Rebecca's breasts many times but never like this. My whole body was cradled her breasts and my arms and legs had turned into the shoulder straps and back fastening, as if I was hugging her.
Rebecca put on a Victorian style long cotton nightdress. It was much larger than she needed. It was usually a signal that she wanted me to kiss her lower lips, and there was enough room for my mouth to nibble her tits. We had spent many happy hours with both of us inside that nightdress, even sleeping all night with my head in her cleavage. But now I was much closer to her breasts inside that nightdress.
I relaxed and enjoyed the sensation, trying to remember what had been said about Miranda's spell. I thought that the transformed person could move. I pulled with my arms and legs. I was squeezing Rebecca's tits. I tried, harder this time.
"Wow! That was too much, Malcolm. Be gentle with them. Caress them if you want to, but don't squash them. We're going to bed. You can have all night to love my boobies."
All night? I thought. A few hours would be nice, but all night? While I could enjoy the sensation of being filled with her breasts, what would happen if she rolled over? Would I be the squashed one? Or suffocated?
I wasn't. As she moved around during her sleep, I woke up with an erection I couldn't do anything about. I'm a breast lover and this was bliss, frustrating bliss, but enjoyable.
In the morning Rebecca muttered more unintelligible words and I was myself again, stuffed inside her nightdress, my head in her cleavage. I moved down to between her thighs. My lips and tongue aroused her to a squealing ecstasy before she rolled me over, straddled me, and impaled herself on my insistent erection.
We hadn't coupled in such a frenzied manner since our honeymoon. She wanted me. I wanted her. We could have gone on for hours but it was a work day. We needed to get dressed, breakfast, and leave.
We even discussed the possibility of calling in 'sick' but our consciences wouldn't let us. We had good employers who deserve better.
"I can use that spell again," Rebecca admitted, "but I think we should wait until Friday night."
She was right. Another night like this one and we would really be unfit for work.
If only Rebecca had read the 'ifs and buts' of the spell. She hadn't and that embarrassed both of us.
On Sunday the weather was hot so she decided we would go swimming. That would have been pleasant. But Rebecca wanted to be different. There was a 'ladies-only' session in the morning. She would wear me to the swimming pool, change me into a swimming costume, and wear me back home. I could see the minimally clad women while I was her swimming costume. I wasn't desperate to see the ladies-only swimmers. Most are middle-aged matrons. The younger ones want to swim in the mixed sessions or with their children.
Rebecca didn't know the limitations of the spell. That was disastrous.
She changed me into a shift dress and wore absolutely nothing underneath. She took her skimpy one piece swimming costume, a towel and a small purse just large enough to hold the coins for the admission to the baths.
Once in the changing cubicle Rebecca took me off as her shift dress. She said the spell to return me to my normal form. She held her swimming costume in one hand, touched me with the other, and changed me into a copy of her swimming costume. She rolled her purse and unused costume inside the towel and put the roll in a locker. She pinned the locker key to me in her cleavage. She went into the pool.
I was trying to tell her that she had made a real mistake. I couldn't. As a wet swimming costume I hadn't got a voice. Any attempt to signal her could be embarrassing. I became more and more worried as the time went on. A few minutes before the end of the 'ladies-only' session Rebecca left the pool and showered. She unpinned the locker key, retrieved the rolled towel and went to a cubicle to change.
Once the door was shut she transformed me back to myself. Only as that was happening did she realise the mistake she had made. She had worn me, as a dress, to come to the swimming baths. She had changed me into a copy of her swimming costume. Once she had done that I was no longer a dress. She couldn't wear me back. She didn't have a dress for the spell to copy. All she had was a dry swimming costume, a towel and unisex flip-flops..
