Prototype Testing - Panties TF
Tags: Panties TF, Inanimate, Clothing TF, Unaware
Theo was three weeks into his dream internship at Veranica Intimates, one of the biggest clothing firms in the country and he had exactly one problem. Veranica brand only made women's clothes. Specifically, women's underwear and Theo was a twenty three year old guy whose entire understanding of pan…
This work contains adult content.
This work contains adult content.
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Theo was three weeks into his dream internship at Veranica Intimates, one of the biggest clothing firms in the country and he had exactly one problem. Veranica brand only made women's clothes. Specifically, women's underwear and Theo was a twenty three year old guy whose entire understanding of panties came from removing maybe four pairs in his life, none of them slowly. But Theo was ambitious and worse, Theo was stubborn. So when the intern design challenge came up, he stayed late three nights running and produced his masterpiece. Red panties, cherry bright satin, with a crisp white trim along the waistband and leg holes. He'd given them a "special form" too, his own innovation, a cut he was convinced was revolutionary. Narrower gusset for a "sleeker line." Different seam placement "for style." Elastic distribution he'd calculated himself, from math, instead of from any human woman's body. He printed the renders, made the sample, and marched into the review meeting like a soldier into a wood chipper.
The CEO sat at the head of the table. Ingrid Falkenrath, fifties, silver blonde hair in a knife sharp bob, a black suit that cost more than Theo's car, and pale gray eyes that had ended careers between sips of espresso. Beside her sat Theo's supervisor, Miss Okonkwo, who took one look at the sample and made a sound like she'd been stepped on. "The gusset," Dawn said carefully, holding the panties up, "is an inch too narrow. The seam here would sit directly against the... Theo. Theo, have you ever SEEN women's underwear?" "The line is sleeker," Theo said. "The elastic fabric would ride up constantly. This would eat itself into a wedgie within ten steps." "It's a bold silhouette!" The room was embarrassed FOR him. Second hand shame thick enough to spread on toast. And a smarter man would have taken the notes, but Theo protected his design like a mother bear, arms crossed, chin up, deflecting every critique with buzzwords, and that was when CEO Falkenrath set down her espresso and smiled for the first time in the meeting. 'Stubborn,' she thought, studying him like a lab specimen. 'Stubborn is useful. Stubborn volunteers for things... hehehe' "You believe in the product?" she asked. "One hundred percent!" "You'd say the comfort is beyond reproach. That ANYONE would be happy wearing them?" "Absolutely! Honestly? Even I would be fine being them." The room went quiet. Falkenrath's smile widened by a millimeter, which for her was a standing ovation. "Wonderful," she said. "We have a way to make it a reality."
Which is how, hours later, Theo found himself in a cardboard box. How did this happen. He kept replaying it. The consent forms sliding across the table faster than he could read. Falkenrath's voice, silk over steel: "Product embodiment testing. Standard practice for designers who stand behind their work. Unless, of course, you'd like to withdraw the design and admit your supervisor was right?" And his stupid, STUBBORN mouth saying "Fine... FINE! Do it!" The machine had been a ring of white light, a sensation like being unraveled sleeve first, his whole body folding, softening, flattening, bones and muscle and everything else compressing down into layered satin and elastic and thread. It hadn't hurt. It had felt, horrifyingly, kind of amazing, every nerve he owned redistributed across two thin layers of red fabric and a white trim waistband. Now he lay folded in tissue paper inside a box marked "SAMPLE 7 / EXTENDED WEAR TEST" and every jostle of the courier cart translated through his fabric like fingers. He wiggled helplessly against the tissue. 'Okay, it's fine Theo… one test. I prove the design works, they turn me back, I'm a legend. The intern who BECAME the revolutionary product to bring it to market! That's a promotion story!' The box opened.
The face that loomed over him belonged to Priscilla, professional fit tester and Theo's flat satin heart sank and soared at once. She was gorgeous and ENORMOUS in every direction that mattered. Mid thirties, platinum hair piled in a lazy bun, heavy lidded blue eyes, and a body built like a stress test. Breasts that strained her tank top, soft round belly, and hips, HIPS, wide and thick, with thighs like a nutcracker championship and an ass that entered rooms before she did. 'Cute little design,' she thought, lifting him out and snapping the elastic once. 'Trim's clean. Gusset looks... hmmm… narrow. Well… that's what testing's for.' **SNAP** 'AHHHH~' The elastic snap rang through his entire being like a slap on bare skin. She hooked her thumbs into his leg holes, stepped in and pulled him UP. Theo's world became flesh. Her calves sliding through him, then those thighs, warm and soft and endless, his fabric stretching, stretching, STRETCHING to get over them, elastic straining, every inch of contact registering as skin on skin because his skin was all he was. 'Oh god~ oh god she's so warm, everything is so warm~' Then she settled him into place and her pussy pressed against his gusset.
His narrow, badly designed gusset. The plush lips spread around the too thin strip of him immediately, satin sinking between them, and Theo felt EVERYTHING. The soft heat of her labia hugging his sides. The firm little pressure of her clit against his front seam, HIS seam, the one Dawn had warned about, pressed directly against the most sensitive spot on a woman's body. The humid warmth soaking into his fibers like breath. "Mmhhh." Priscilla shifted her weight, looked in the mirror, and clicked her tongue. "Yep… instant cameltoe... very kinky pair." She pulled a clipboard off the counter and started writing, hips cocked, while Theo hung plastered to her most intimate anatomy trying to remember how thinking worked. 'That's her~ that's her actual~ I'm touching~ I'm IN the~ focus, FOCUS, you're a professional~' She walked a testing circuit, ten paces, squat, lunge, sit, stand, and Theo failed everything. His elastic pattern rode up exactly like Dawn said it would, his back panel crawling up between those magnificent ass cheeks with every step, wedging deep, and Priscilla reached back and yanked him out with two fingers. 'HNNNN~'
"Rides up," she muttered, writing. Squat test. His gusset slid sideways off her lips entirely, letting her pussy escape his coverage, then snapped back askew. "Gusset slides off the vulva under load," she recited flatly. "Poor seam placement abrades the clitoral area. Poor… very poor… Honestly, who DESIGNED this?!" 'I DID!' Theo thought miserably, stretched over the warm topology of her body, drunk on sensation and drowning in professional shame at the same time and she went to her regular sport activities. This is when the yoga warmup started, and her arousal free lower body began, from friction alone, to sweat and slick, and the first drops of her juices soaked into his gusset fibers like water into a sponge, hot and salty sweet and Theo stopped being able to form sentences at all.
Fit testing, Theo learned, meant living an entire day as somebody's underwear. Yoga came first. Priscilla rolled out her mat, queued up a video, and folded that huge soft body into positions that physics should have vetoed. And Theo went with her. Every pose stretched him a different direction. Downward dog pulled his back panel taut across her spread ass, seams creaking. The woman splayed her thighs wide and yanked his leg holes to their absolute limit, elastic screaming. That was a thread. A single thread in his left leg seam, snapping. He FELT it go, a tiny sharp sting like a plucked hair and a cold thought pushed up through the warm haze. 'That's... fine. Panties pop threads. That's normal… right?' Warrior pose ground her plush lips slowly along his gusset, side to side, and the haze rolled back in. Her body heat had him soaked in a fine layer of her sweat now, absorbed deep into his fibers, salt and skin and the faint sweet musk of her and he drank all of it whether he wanted to or not. He was a sponge shaped like a garment shaped like a man's bad decisions. Then jogging. Three miles. Three miles of those thighs scissoring past each other with him wedged between, friction building heat in his gusset, her ass bouncing against his back panel with every stride, his waistband riding and rolling under her soft belly. She'd yank him out of her cheeks, he'd crawl right back in, his own elastic betraying them both.
'I designed this~ hnn~ I designed every terrible thing happening to me right now~' By the time she got home, showered him STILL ON, hot water sluicing through his fabric like a full body massage, then air dried him on her hips while she made lunch, Theo was fraying. Literally two more threads had popped. A patch of his white trim had gone slightly gray with wear and she'd only worn him for six hours. Priscilla sat, him wedged warm under her and typed her review on a laptop. 'Sample 7. Aesthetics: strong. Everything else: no.' Her fingers moved briskly. 'Gusset too narrow, slides under load. Center seam abrades. Elastic map defective, chronic wedgie. Durability concerns after ONE session. Cannot recommend without full redesign.' 'No, no no no, come on!' Theo read every word through the warmth of her thighs. His design… his baby! Getting shredded by the professional currently marinating him in her body heat. Her phone buzzed. A message from Veranica corporate: 'Please retain Sample 7 for extended wear testing. One full week, daily use. Compensation attached.' Priscilla frowned at it. "A week? For THIS one? Why?" The compensation number scrolled up. She shrugged with her whole chest. "Sure... whatever... It’s their money." Somewhere in a corner office fourteen floors up, CEO Ingrid Falkenrath sipped her espresso and smiled at nothing. A week of honest consumer experience, she thought. 'Nothing teaches design like BEING the design and if he frays too badly to restore... well. Interns are a renewable resource.'
The front door banged open at nine forty. "Priss! I brought thai food and bad intentions!"Her boyfriend was a big guy, broad, bearded, construction shoulders, and he took one look at Priscilla lounging in nothing but a tank top and a red pair of test panties and the Thai food ended up on the counter, forgotten. 'Oh no,' thought Theo. 'Oh no no no!' The bearded guy scooped her up, dropped her on the bed and buried his face directly against Theo's gusset, mouthing her through the fabric, hot breath flooding through the satin weave, tongue pressing Theo's thin material up between her lips. 'HNNNNGH~' She got wet FAST and all of it went into Theo. Her arousal soaked through his gusset in spreading hot blooms, thick and slick, wicking outward thread by thread, and her clit swelled against his awful center seam, grinding on it with every pass of the guy's tongue. She moaned. Theo moaned harder, silent, saturated, stretched. "Mmmh~ just, pull them aside, don't bother taking them~" He pulled them aside. Theo got yanked off her pussy and wedged into the crease of her thigh, stretched diagonal, one leg hole strained to a taut trembling line, and then the boyfriend pushed into her raw, inches from Theo's fabric, and fucked her hard enough to shake the headboard. **PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP**
Theo was IN it. Pinned against her thigh, dragged by every thrust, the guy's shaft rubbing along his stretched edge with each stroke, her juices splattering into his weave, his fibers straining one by one some of them started popping. 'The seams~ the SEAMS~ careful~ oh god I'm going to fall apart~ and it feels~ why does it FEEL like that~' He kept sliding off his diagonal perch, elastic too weak to hold position, HIS defective elastic map, and every time he slipped down the boyfriend just grabbed a fistful of red satin, hauled him back over and used him like a grip. Then like a rag, literally, at the end, when the guy pulled out and finished across her belly and mound, ropes of hot cum splattering half onto her skin and half onto Theo's front panel, soaking in, fizzing warm through his fibers with that electric swimming tingle he had absolutely no dignified way to enjoy as much as he did. "Ah, hell! Sorry, one sec." The boyfriend, gentleman that he was, used Theo's front panel to wipe her belly clean, dragging him across her skin, mopping up cum and sweat and slick into his weave, and then peeled him down her legs and tossed him across the room. Theo sailed through the air and landed in the wire laundry hamper on a bed of tank tops and other, better designed panties.
He lay there in the dark, soaked in the mixed cocktail of the entire day, sweat, arousal, cum, drying stiff and crusty patch by patch, threads loose at both leg holes, trim graying, gusset stretched a size past spec, and did the math. One day… that was ONE day. Six more to go… daily use. Falkenrath's voice floated up through the fog, that silky clause from the consent forms he'd skimmed like an idiot: 'If the sample sustains excessive damage, restoration cannot be guaranteed. In such cases, the design becomes permanent.' 'Okay,' Theo thought, lying very still in the hamper, feeling his fibers crackle as the crust set in. 'Okay. New plan! Survive the week. Hold the seams. Do not fall apart inside the beautiful giant woman.' From the bedroom came Priscilla's laugh, and the sound of the boyfriend saying, "same time tomorrow?", and Theo, red satin, white trim, revolutionary silhouette, prayed to whatever god handled textiles that his own terrible design was better made than everyone kept saying. The muffled review echoed in his head. 'Cannot recommend without full redesign... yeah,' he thought grimly. 'After being them, me neither…' The open question was whether he would barely survive the rest of the week.