Squishy Awakening - Bra TF
Tags: Inanimate, Clothing TF, Melting, Bra, Squishy
The afternoon sun beat down on the pool deck like a punishment. Milana dragged the skimmer net through the water for what felt like the thousandth time, sweat rolling down between her shoulder blades and soaking into her red staff shirt. At twenty-one, she figured summer break should mean sleeping…
This work contains adult content.
This work contains adult content.
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The afternoon sun beat down on the pool deck like a punishment. Milana dragged the skimmer net through the water for what felt like the thousandth time, sweat rolling down between her shoulder blades and soaking into her red staff shirt. At twenty-one, she figured summer break should mean sleeping until noon and filming content, not fishing dead bugs out of chlorinated water for minimum wage. 'Money is money,' she reminded herself, blowing a strand of dark hair out of her face. 'Even if this job sucks harder than anything.' Her parents helped where they could. Mom and Dad were always supportive, honestly too supportive sometimes. She missed messing with her mom lately and if she was being real with herself, she missed the views too. The videos of her mother Matilda getting squished, flattened, folded into shapes, poured into containers... those pulled more views than everything else on her channel combined. Every single one. It made Milana grind her teeth a little. Her mom wasn't even trying and she was the star. 'Whatever... I'll find my own thing.' That was when her stomach did something wrong. Not nausea or cramps. It felt like someone had reached inside her and given her guts a slow, gentle stir, like batter folding over itself. Her knees wobbled. The skimmer net clattered against the concrete. She walked over to Dario, the other lifeguard on shift, a lanky guy with sunburned shoulders who was reorganizing the towel cart. "I need a break."
He didn't even look up. "Finish the deep end first, then chill." "Dario, I have to go to the bathroom. Right now. It's not negotiable." 'She just wants to sit in the AC and scroll her phone, I know that trick,' he thought, but he sighed and waved her off. "Fine… five minutes." The women's bathroom was empty, humid and smelled like sunscreen and wet concrete. Milana braced herself on the sink and splashed cold water on her face. When she looked up at the mirror, she froze. Her face was pink. Not sunburn pink. Pink pink, like someone had dropped a drop of dye under her skin and it was spreading. She rubbed her cheek hard with the heel of her hand and the color only got deeper, brighter, her skin flushing rose everywhere her fingers dragged. "What the fuck..." The stirring feeling inside her got stronger. Her organs didn't hurt, they just felt loose, like everything in her torso was slowly losing its edges and blending together into one warm clump. Her legs gave out and she sat down hard on the tile floor. **FWUMP** Except it didn't hurt. It didn't feel like hitting tile at all. It felt soft. She scrambled back up and twisted around to look at herself. Her ass was flat. Completely flat, pancaked against the shape of the floor, and as she watched, it slowly puffed back out like rising dough, filling her shorts back in. "No... Nope! This is a dream. This is one of those dreams!" Her hands shook as she stripped down right there in the stall, shorts, staff shirt, everything peeling off her increasingly soft body. Her skin had gone fully pink now, a bright bubblegum shade with a glossy shine to it and when she poked her own thigh, her finger sank in a full inch before the flesh pushed it back out. She looked exactly like her mom did on hot days. That same wet gleam. That same soft, unstable jiggle. 'It needs to be a dream. How is this even possible? Mom took the pills, she made SURE we wouldn't...'
Then the melting started. It began at her feet. A warm, spreading looseness, like standing in a hot bath, except the bath was her. Her toes lost their borders first, five little shapes running together into one smooth pink curve, and then that curve spread wider, flattening against the tile. She should have been screaming. Part of her wanted to scream. But it felt good. "Ohhhh~ what... whyyy~" The warmth climbed her calves and they sagged, softened, poured slowly downward like honey off a spoon. Her knees dissolved into the rising puddle. Her thighs, her hips, all of it lost its grip on being solid and slumped down in thick, glossy folds. Every inch that melted sent a shiver up whatever was left of her, a lazy tingling pleasure that pooled at the base of her spine and then took her spine too. **GLORP** Her belly went next, her insides finally finishing their slow stir, everything blending into uniform pink mass. Her breasts sagged, drooped, stretched downward and merged into the puddle with a wet **SHLUP** that made her moan out loud, or bubble out loud, because her mouth was already halfway gone. "Mmmmph~ ahhh~" Her face was the last thing. She felt her cheeks soften, her nose sink inward, her wide panicked eyes turning to swirls of darker pink on the surface of a spreading puddle. Her hair melted into ribbons of deeper rose that swirled through her like syrup in a milkshake. And then Milana was a puddle. A big, glossy, gently bubbling pink puddle spread across the bathroom floor, her staff uniform sitting in a heap at her edge. **BLBLBLB** The bubbles were her trying to talk. It came out as nothing. The stall door banged open. A middle-aged woman in a swimsuit stepped in, needing to pee, took one look at the enormous quivering puddle and shrieked, backing out fast.
Minutes later Dario came in with a mop and bucket, grumbling about spills, and then he saw the folded red staff shirt and the name tag sitting right at the puddle's edge. He looked at the puddle. The puddle rippled. A smirk crawled across his sunburned face. 'No way. Little miss "not negotiable" is a Squishy. Oh, this is the best thing that's happened all summer,' he thought. "Well, well," he said out loud and dunked the mop right into her.**SLRRRSH** For Milana it was the strangest thing she'd ever felt. The mop head dragged through her mass, stirring her, and every fiber pulled streaks of her essence around in slow spirals. Her thoughts smeared with the motion. Wherever the mop churned, pleasure churned with it, dumb and warm and everywhere at once. Her half-formed features, the faint swirls that were her eyes, got stirred away into smooth, uniform pink. 'Stop~ don't~ ohhh that's so weird~ why does it feel~' **BLBLB~** He swirled her around a few more times, honestly enjoying it a little too much, then wrung her into the bucket in thick glossy ropes and pulled out his phone, scrolling for the emergency contact in her file. He held it to his ear as the last of her dripped off the mop. "Hey, yeah, is this Mrs. Chapeaux? It's about your daughter. You're gonna want to come down here... and maybe bring a lid."
Matilda arrived at the pool twenty minutes later, purple hair in a loose bun, looking entirely too calm for a woman collecting her daughter in a mop bucket. She peered down into the sloshing pink liquid and pressed a hand to her chest. "Oh, dear." **BLBLBLB!** The bucket bubbled furiously. "Yes, yes, I know, sweetie. I know exactly how it feels." She thanked Dario, tipped him ten dollars for not putting Milana down a drain, and carried the bucket to the car like it was a casserole. On the drive home, she explained, glancing at the bucket buckled into the passenger seat. "The pills suppress the condition, honey. Nobody ever said they blocked the genes. Turns out you've been a Squishy this whole time, just waiting for the right hot day." There was something in her voice that wasn't quite sympathy. It sounded almost... pleased. Inside the bucket, Milana's dispersed mind churned. Confusion first. Then panic. Then, floating up through the panic like one of her own bubbles, a thought: 'Wait... wait wait! I could make my OWN squishy content. Mom's videos get thousands of views. I'm younger, I'm hotter, I have better editing... I could quit that stupid pool job by August~' **BLBLB~** The bucket bubbled in a distinctly scheming way.
The problem became clear at home. Milana was too fresh, too liquid. Every time she gathered herself into a lump, gravity won and she slumped back down. A brand new Squishy with zero control was basically a spill waiting to happen and Matilda wasn't about to let her daughter get tracked through the house on someone's sock. She'd lived that life. "Alright, sweetheart. Old trick my mom did to teach me. Fresh Squishies need something to hold their shape for them when they can’t hold shape at all!" Matilda disappeared upstairs and came back holding one of her own bras, a plain white full-coverage one, sized generously for her forty-three-year-old figure. "Fabric anchor. You'll bond with it, and it'll keep you in one piece while you learn." 'You are NOT dipping me into your BRA,' Milana bubbled. Matilda dipped the bra into the bucket. The moment the cotton touched her surface, Milana felt the pull. The same hungry wicking she'd felt from the mop, but stronger, deeper. The fabric drank her. **SHLLLLRP** Her essence climbed the material fiber by fiber, and it didn't feel like being absorbed, it felt like pouring herself into a new body. Her scattered consciousness, smeared thin through a bucket of liquid, suddenly had structure to flow into. Threads became nerves. The weave became skin. She rushed into the cups, flooded the straps, soaked through the band, and everywhere she spread, the fabric changed. Cotton turned smooth and glossy, thickening into something latexy and alive, the plain white blushing into bright bubblegum pink with streaks of deeper rose where her hair used to be. 'Ohhh~ oh that's~ I can FEEL kinda normal again again~' Her awareness settled through her new shape. Two big cups that were somehow her chest and her hands and her face all at once. Straps like long lazy arms. The band a stretchy spine. Every part of her registered the air, the temperature, the texture of her mother's fingers holding her up.
Matilda turned her over, examining the shiny pink material. "Hmmm. Look at that, you're not the same color as me. That's normal though, it varies. Your great aunt was practically teal." She smiled, warm and a little proud. "Pink suits you, honey." Then, before Milana could process what was happening, Matilda pulled her blouse off, unclipped her own bra, and put Milana on. 'MOM. MOM NO! MOM WHAT ARE YOU DOING~' The sensations hit like a wave. Warm skin against every inch of her fabric body. Matilda's heavy breasts settled into the cups, into her, and Milana felt herself stretch to hold them, her latexy material pulled taut, her whole being molded around soft warm weight. The straps, her arms, dragged snug over round shoulders. The band, her spine, cinched around her mother's ribs and she felt every breath expand her, compress her, expand her again. "Mmmph~!" The sound squeaked out of her stretched material. "Oh hush," Matilda laughed, adjusting the fit with a tug that made Milana's entire consciousness wobble. "This is the safest place in the house for you. Trust me, I've been the bra. I've been the panties. I've been the insoles and believe me, you got the good assignment."
She walked to the bedroom mirror and Milana got to see herself. A glossy pink bra, slightly squished under the generous load, her cups quivering faintly with her embarrassment. Every step Matilda took bounced her. Every bounce squished her a little against warm flesh, and the squishing sent slow dumb waves of sensation rolling through her fabric. 'This is so weird. This is so WEIRD. Why does everything feel~ why is being STRETCHED like~ Ohhh~' "You'll stay home until you learn the basics," Matilda said to her reflection, to her chest, really. "Reforming, holding shape, controlling your melt. Once you've got that down, I'll give you my Squishy Club card. They'll teach you properly. Flattening, absorption safety, all of it. Wonderful squishies! But after a few weeks I want it returned!" She sat down on the bed, and the shift squashed Milana's cups gently sideways. **SQUEE** went her material. "And it's not all bad, you know." Matilda's voice went soft, fond. "You'll look young basically forever. We live for god knows how long. You met your great great great grandparents, sweetie. Think about that. Most people can't even meet two greats." She patted the top of one cup affectionately, which made Milana's whole essence flutter. "And here's a secret. A few months after I stopped the pills and went squishy again? Everything got firmer. Boobs, ass, all of it. Your father noticed immediately." 'MOM GROSS! Okay but also... firmer? That’s not that bad~'
Inside her fabric form, Milana's mind was already racing again, because that was who she was. Sure, she was currently her mother's underwear, stretched over the same boobs that used to embarrass her at parent teacher conferences. Sure, every breath Matilda took squished her like a stress ball. But immortal, forever young, infinitely transformable and genetically gifted for the single most viral content niche on the entire internet? 'The pool can keep its five bucks an hour. Squishy Milana is going to be HUGE! Bigger than Mom. Way bigger~' Matilda caught the smug little quiver in the fabric and smiled knowingly at the mirror. One of her babies had gotten her genes after all. She wondered, warmly, if the other two were carrying it too, just waiting for their own hot day. "Get comfortable, honey," she said, lying back on the bed, which flattened Milana deliciously against her chest. "Lesson one starts tomorrow. Tonight, you're just going to learn what I learned a long time ago." SQUISH "Mmmmph~!" "Being squishy has its perks."