"Where are we going, coach?" Chad asked uncertainly.
"Well, as you know we rent our clean towels from the Ruiz Linen Company, and because of the extra costs for the football team, we couldn't afford towels this month. I thought about asking kids to bring their own towels, but this seemed like a better idea."
"Seriously, turning me - your star player into a bath towel for everyone to use seemed like a good idea to you?" Chad said incredulously.
"See there's that attitude of yours again. It's the reason you were selected to be towel boy, Towely."
"My name's Chad."
"Not now. You're Towely, get used to it."
"So where are you taking me to shower?"
"You're not showering, Towely. You're getting laundered."
"Huh?"
"Home Ec has washers and dryers," said the coach curtly. He opened the fire escape door of the athletic building. Chad stepped back behind the coach.
He hissed, "Coach, I'm naked. I can't go outside!"
The coach turned, and said, "Oh, yeah."
The coach turned and grabbed Chad's cock, he twisted the cock ring until he found the button, and pressed.
"Nuh-" gasped Chad. Instead of Chad's cock, the coach was holding a towel with a ring attached to it.
"There," said the coach. Then he looked down at what he was wearing. "Damn, no pockets."
Chad watched in horror, as the coach folded him up to resemble a hand towel, and tucked the towel into the back of his nylon running shorts. From the sweat and stench emanating from coach's hairy butt cheek, Chad figured he had already completed his marathon training for the day. He was somewhat relieved that coach had used him to shower, and kind of horrified to be soaking up the grimy sweat from coach's unwashed ass. Coach in apparent disregard for Chad, or perhaps because of his regard for Chad, farted an extremely loud and stinky fart as he exited the athletic building. Chad wished he could hold his nose or otherwise not smell it.
Chad could only see behind him, as the coach entered building 200. He knew it was the 200 building because all the lockers along the wall began with two. At last coach turned and stopped. He heard the coach try the door. The only door that Chad could see was behind the coach, and it was labeled 221 HOME ECONOMICS KITCHEN.
"Yo, Ms. Saunders?" Coach called as he entered the room. Chad could see the door was marked, "222 HOME ECONOMICS CLEANING/LAUNDRY". It looked kind of like a cross between a laundromat and a chem lab. The coach walked into the central aisle between the rows of counters and washers and dryers and sinks. He turned to face the white boards in the front of the class room. From his position hanging off the coach's rear. Chad saw the door in the back of the classroom open.
Out of the small office with glass windows came a stocky older woman with inappropriately dyed bright red hair in a beehive hairdo. She walked up silently behind the coach, and reached for the towel. She yanked Chad abruptly causing the elastic on the coach's shorts to stretch, briefly revealing his hairy ass before snapping back.
"So this is the towel you wanted me to wash?"
"Yeow!" yelped the coach rubbing his backside as he turned around. "Yeah, that's Chad."
"He doesn't look too grimy," she said turning Chad over in her hands a few times.
"He's only been a towel one day. I figure after the first wash, you can do him weekly," Coach said.
Weekly? I'm going to be a towel all week! Thought Chad in horror.
"You know, rearranging all our classes to accommodate your phys ed boys shower schedule is ridiculous. You should either get more towels or cut some of your other expenses. Didn't you just buy new uniforms for all the teams?"
"Well, we have to stagger classes, so that we don't have a hundred guys showering and drying with Chad at once. The staggering of class starts with five minute intervals means that all the kids complete their required workout programs, and then shower in intervals of like 20 guys every ten minutes, so Chad gets used non-stop, and we don't have any kids late to their next class," he explained.
"Yes, but I teach math too, and now I have students coming and going to meet your schedule, it's most disruptive."
"Well, you don't have any in Home Ec, right?"
"Perhaps, I should. Then maybe if they learn how to do laundry, you could buy a washer and dryer and clean your own workout gear."
The coach harumphed.
"Well, let's see what I've got to work with," she reached for the ring on the towel and depressed the button. It became a fresh towel. She depressed it again.
Chad yelped. He was naked and tried to back away, but Ms. Saunders held firmly to his cock ring.
She crinkled her nose, and frowned, "Yuck. Well, he'll need extra laundering." She reached and pressed the button on the cock ring three times. Chad's yelp was muffled, as he collapsed to the floor. He was now a cloth version of himself. Completely anatomically correct, but flat, and boneless. He hung there limply by his cock.
"Ew, maybe I should have you wash him daily."
"No, I agreed to weekly."
She dragged Chad unceremoniously over to a washing machine. She turned it on, and it began filling with water. Chad could hear liquid detergent being poured in, and then he was unceremoniously hefted into the sudsy water as the washing machine filled.
"You know my running clothes are pretty dirty too," said the coach.
"Well, there's room in this load, so strip."
Coach's dirty t-shirt, shorts, and socks dropped in on top of Chad.
"Now, coach, you're lucky I have a sofa bed in my office. It's time to pay for washing your stuff," she said with a strange lilt in her voice.
She added fabric softener to the dispenser, and closed the lid plunging Chad into darkness.
He went through the wash cycle, two rinses and spins, and finally lay there plastered to the inside of the tub as it drained for the last time. He must've been there for hours. It was dark when Ms. Saunders extracted him and coach's clothes from the washing machine. She was wearing only a black leather bra, and matching panties. She hung Chad on a clothesline over a sink to drip dry. Clothespins dug into his skin, as he was attached to the line with coach's shorts and socks hanging nearby.
"Why don't you just toss 'em in the dryer?" coach called from the office.
"Too noisy, besides drip drying makes the cloth last longer," she said. She picked up a whip, and headed back toward her office.
For the next few hours, Chad only heard the water dripping from his cloth body, the crack of the whip, and odd shrieks of joy and pain coming from the closed office door. At last there was silence, but Chad couldn't sleep.