It's hard to explain what it feels like to be transformed. It's slightly painful like getting a shot from a needle but then it's mostly disorienting as your eyes are no longer eyes and your arms are no longer arms. You feel like you are falling but gently falling. Your landing is cushioned as you land inside your old clothes that are bigger than you. The door of the transformation machine opens. You can still see and hear somehow and assume that your eyes are on the your front.
Your wife isn't there but two workers fish you out of your clothes.
"He turned himself into underwear? We don't sell underwear."
"No, that's the guy that made the special arrangement. We're going to sell him to his wife."
"This guy must be really kinky then. If he's going to change into underwear for his wife's pleasure you'd think he'd change himself into panties instead of boxer briefs."
You watch as they throw your old underwear in the garbage and you realize that could happen to you. You almost feel a connection to your old underwear as if you feel sorry about your fellow underwear. "Why him and not me?" You then realize how surprisingly quickly you have adopted the identity of underwear. "I am underwear. That's who I am."
They take you and put you on a rack as planned. You curse your wife and wonder what kind of boxer briefs she change you into.
Hours pass and your wife does not come to buy you. A few people pick you up and fondle you. One guy makes comments about using you as a rag but you are too expensive to be turned into a rag. Another guy asks if he can try you on but the manager won't allow that.
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