Rude Runner - Leggings TF
Tags: Inanimate, Clothing TF, Unaware, Object TF, Caption
DescriptionIf you want to make a suggestion or have an unique idea? Join the Discord Server. Maybe there is a giveaway so don't miss it! Psss the uncensored versions are there as well!Rude Runner - Leggings TFLast Part:The morning sun hit California like a blowtorch, cooking the sidewalk until you…
The morning sun hit California like a blowtorch, cooking the sidewalk until you could smell hot concrete and car exhaust mixing together in that classic Los Angeles stink. Janet pounded the pavement in her white Nike runners, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her like a metronome. Thirty years old, five foot six, a hundred and fifteen pounds of lean muscle wrapped tight in a black sports bra and matching compression shorts. She taught yoga six days a week at a studio not far away and ran five miles every single morning without fail. Her body was her temple, her brand, her entire identity. Every calorie counted and every carb tracked. Every mirror she passed got a glance because Janet needed to confirm what she already knew: she looked perfect. She also had a mouth that could strip paint off a wall. It was genetic, she figured. Her mom was the same way. Couldn't help it. Saw something she didn't like and the words just fell out before her brain caught up. That's exactly what happened when she rounded the corner onto a quieter side street and saw the woman standing on the sidewalk. The stranger was tall, maybe five ten, with dark hair that hung past her shoulders in thick, almost unnaturally shiny locks. She wore a simple sports attire that looked like it was losing a war against her body. Her breasts were massive, straining the fabric so hard it looked painful, and her hips flared out wide into an ass that was cartoonishly round and full. Her thighs pressed together thick and soft. She was just standing there, looking up at the sky like she was studying the clouds. Janet jogged past her and the word came out before she even thought about it. "PIG." She said it loud enough to hear it was clear and totally mean. Just like that. The woman's head turned slowly. Her eyes, which were a strange amber color Janet didn't register at first, locked onto her. "Human. What did you say?" Janet stopped jogging. She turned around, crossed her arms over her chest, and cocked her hip. "Pig. Didn't you hear me, you dumbass?" The woman blinked. Once, then twice. Her left eye twitched, just barely. "If I remember correctly," the woman said, her voice calm and flat, "you humans call fat, unfit people pigs. Interesting. You look like a five millimeter diameter stick. Dumb human." Janet's face scrunched up. "What the fuck does that even mean? Five millimeter? What kind of weirdo talks like that?" The woman didn't answer right away. Instead, she looked left then right. Her amber eyes scanned the street, the parked cars, the windows of the buildings. Not a soul around the perfect situation. The street was dead quiet except for a distant siren somewhere toward Hollywood. Then she smiled. It wasn't a human smile. The corners of her mouth stretched too wide, pulling back past where lips should stop, revealing teeth that were just slightly too sharp, too uniform, too white. Her skin started to change color, a deep crimson red bleeding up from her neck and spreading across her face like ink dropped in water. Her tongue slid out of her mouth, impossibly long, a good twelve inches of glistening red flesh that waved lazily in the air like a snake tasting the breeze. The dark hair on her head thickened and separated into tendrils, each one moving independently, curling and uncurling with a wet, slick sound. Two longer appendages rose from the top of her skull like antennae, their tips glowing faintly. 'This one has a loud mouth, the creature thought, her alien grin widening. Perfect test subject!' "You know, human," she said, her voice now carrying a strange harmonic undertone, like two people speaking at once, "we Atroles don't get angry over such low intelligence insults. But I think you don't understand perfect body proportions. Some of us came to Earth to study the measurements connected to golden rectangle perfection. And I think you..." She pointed one long, red, dripping finger at Janet. "...can be one of the measuring devices~" Janet's legs tried to move. Her brain screamed RUN. But the Atrole was faster. One slimy red hand shot forward and grabbed Janet's forearm, and the grip was warm, almost hot, like being grabbed by heated rubber. "Nnnngh... let go of me!" Janet yanked, but the hand squeezed tighter and tighter, not crushing, not breaking bone, just... pushing inward. The pressure was bizarre. There was no pain. No crack or snap. Just this strange sensation of compression, like her arm was being kneaded like dough. She looked down. Her skin was changing color. Starting at the point of contact, a deep, glossy red spread across her forearm like spilled paint. The texture shifted from soft human skin to something slick and elastic. She could feel herself flattening. "Wha... what are you... nnnnnngh~" Her voice was getting thinner. Literally thinner. Her throat was compressing, her vocal cords stretching into something that couldn't produce sound the way they used to. She watched in horror as her fingers merged together, her hand b
