You understand now, though you're still not sure if you believe it. You try to wrench yourself from her grip, but all you can manage is a slight tightening of your fibers. God, your fibers... not arms, nor legs, nor muscles of any kind, but simple cloth. How was this even possible?
"I think you'll find the impossible becomes probable when I'm around," Jeanie chuckles to herself. As if to punctuate the remark, she spins you around to examine your back. The antique-styled furniture whips around as you are helpless to stop the motion, and dangle weightlessly from her hands. "Yes, I think you'll do quite nicely. It's been a while since I've had a living tank top- the rest have all gone on to serve in new positions." Without warning, her hold on you disappears. You collapse on the wooden floor in a heap, your face folded into what is now the rest of your body. Cloth rustles above you, and then there's a few light slaps of flesh-on-flesh. "Or ripped the last time I grew my girls!" Jeanie laughs again as you hear something land on the couch. An instant later, a claw-like grip pinches you, and you're lifted into the air.
She doesn't give you time to think; you're brought over her head like any old shirt, the smell of a spicy-anise shampoo striking you as her thick locks fill your interior. Warm breath passes through you as you're pulled passed her nose. Then, you finally meet her flesh. Your body expands to meet its demands, your head filling with her body as she tugs you down into place. Your eyes are pulled away from each other, and the place where your mouth would be is pulled beneath the mounds of her breasts. With a start, you realize you can taste her; salty sweat that was trapped under her breasts instantly begins to wet what would be your lips. She gives you a few tiny adjustments, making sure you hug her tightly in all the right ways. "Perfect," she breathes. "What do you think, Philip?" Your whole world moves as she pivots. You're stuck looking straight ahead, with your vision quivering as the flesh you're clinging to jiggles and quakes with her footsteps. You can only watch as she bends you over the fishbowl sat on the coffee table.
You hadn't noticed before, but there actually was a fish within the little glass container. Its scales shimmer a brilliant orange, but its eyes are what draw your attention: large, deep blue, and far more intelligent than any you'd seen on a fish prior. It carefully examines you and your wearer; in its eyes you see the fiercely attractive form of Jeanie, wearing a tank top no different from the ones she always wears. The reflection almost reignites the same passion that brought you here, but the fish nods, reminding you of where you are. "Yes, I think you'll please me very much in this form, Mike" Jeanie says. Her voice vibrates beneath you, and her hands stroke your fibers as she feels her own body. Her soft hands brush over your eyes, and a moment later you feel two towers grow erect and poke into what would be your cheekbones. She chuckles deeply, making her flesh quiver once again. "Serve me well and I'm sure you'll get a promotion in no time. But, if you're spiteful and nasty, there are many worse things to be than a shirt." You consider her words.
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