Wrong Address - Leggings TF
Tags: Inanimate, Clothing TF, Unaware, Permanent, 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 version is there as well!If you want to create a caption like this I have all the needed things uploaded on mediafire and don't forget to add…
Personal Information Name: Jeremy | Age: 25| Gender: Male | TF-ID: TF-JF29TC Treatment Information Transformation: Grey leggings | Date: 29.04.2025 Doctor: Dr. Mary Mattu | TF Treatmemt: TF Dust Guardian’s Information Name: Harley | Age: 27 | Gender: Female Notes Those patients are so delulu! This Jeremy simp wanted to visit his gf in Washington... oh... DC, well, it's not the ‘state’... Can we write it down as missed in cringe? He didn't leave any tracking numbers or stuff fr... Ah and the procedure went bussin except the transit. Duration: One month | Next Location: Another Country? Wrong Address I am Jeremy, 25, living in Europe. My long-distance girlfriend Harley lived in Washington DC. The distance seemed impossible until she mentioned how her friend used a TF clinic to mail herself interstate. My solution? Transform into grey leggings and ship myself to her doorstep. Dr. Mary Mattu handled my transformation. At her office, she spoke in rapid slang, gesturing wildly while explaining the procedure. Her enormous butt kept distracting me all the time. "This dust treatment is fr bussin for newbies no cap," she exclaimed, sprinkling glittering particles over my naked body. My transformation began instantly. My torso lightened, my breathing slowed, then stopped completely. My arms disappeared first, followed by my head and torso. Only my legs remained, stretching wider while my crotch flattened completely. I collapsed onto the floor, a perfect pair of grey leggings. Dr. Mattu immediately pulled me over her thick thighs. The sensation felt incredible, hugging her warm curves. Her floral perfume settled in my fabric while she took documentation photos, tongue playfully out. But when packing me for shipment, she made a catastrophic error. Instead of Washington state, she addressed the box to Washington DC. The journey lasted forever. When light finally returned, unfamiliar hands lifted me from the package. A blonde woman with blue eyes and glasses examined me curiously. Her studio apartment reeked of fast food and unwashed clothes. "Weird. Never ordered leggings," she muttered, examining my soft material. Her AC unit whirred uselessly in the background. "But these look comfy." She pulled me over her unwashed legs. The stench overwhelmed me initially... sweat, body odor, food droppings... yet somehow my fabric form began absorbing it willingly. Within minutes, my once pristine material darkened with filth and sweat. Hours passed with me conforming perfectly to her figure. By evening, thoughts of Harley grew distant, and I could only think of serving my stinky master.
