Lane wanted to vomit the second he stepped on the squishy carpet outside of Stewart’s room. It was like a sink had overflowed or a toilet had backed up and his socks got all squishy because of it. The only stupid thing was there were no pipes in Stewart’s room. The guy seemed oblivious too, you could hear him watching some lame anime through the door.
“Dumbass virgin,” Lane grumbled before marching to his own room and shutting himself inside it. He stripped his socks off and threw them on one of his piles of clothes. He hadn’t done laundry in his life and the last time his clothes had been clean was when his mom did them before school started. He didn’t have time, he was a busy guy with sports and schoolwork to think about.
He collapsed on his bed with a sigh before scowling heavily. Was his bed wet? Had the sprinkler system gone off or some shit? He sat up feeing rather furious but paused halfway through deciding to go scream at Stewart for setting some food on fire.
His room was filthy, for some reason he was noticing that? What did he care about the piles of unclean laundry? It was normal. Except it was bothering him. It was bothering him so bad. The smell was entering his nose, crumbs were pressing into the skin at the bottom of his feet, and he could feel a crusty sweatiness on the clothes he wore.
“I guess a load of laundry wouldn’t hurt,” he muttered before grabbing an armful of clothing and walking out of the room, down the hall, and to the laundry room. He stuffed clothes in there with abandon. Jeans, underwear, shirts, and one of his gym socks. He then ran it with no detergent and walked away.
When the washer dinged he get a compulsion to throw a second load on, tossing his wet clothes in the dryer and his jumble of articles in the washer. He then waited in his room again until everything finished a cycle and changed the loads again.
The load from the dryer didn’t strike him as odd, all the jeans, underwear and socks had been replaced by pure white garments and a few intermixed greys. He dumped the pile on his bed, not even registering that it smelled clean like dryer sheets and detergents he hadn’t added. No the odd thing was he began to fold everything. He didn’t even notice that all the white clothing was too small, sported a few spaghetti straps, short socks, and bizarrely a lot of pairs of bras and panties.
As he folded those clothes he kept having to brush stray brown hairs out of his eyes and his hands seemed smaller, like he could hold less clothes in them. His face was also itchy, his facial hair really bothering him for some reason. After he finished folding all those bras and shirts and put them away in an orderly fashion he walked straight to the bathroom and spread shaving cream on his face. When the razor moved across his face it seemed to take blemishes, acne, and flesh from his chin with it. When he wiped his face off with a towel his jawline seemed weaker, almost girly. He was about to study it further when he got the compulsion that his laundry had finished again. He grabbed what was left of his clothes off his floor and made his way to the laundry room stuffing his new load into the wash and taking out a load from the dryer.
Sweaters, jeans, white boxers, and socks. They’d all been replaced by black girly clothes. More bras, more panties, yoga pants, and workout shorts that would make any guy stare at a girl’s ass. That was all bundled in his arms.
As he folded he felt shorter. He didn’t know why but every time he folded a bra he felt somewhat smaller. It was weird. He kept moving long hair from his eyes, his shirt felt too big and his pants kept trying to fall down, and he kept tripping on the bottoms of his pant legs. He didn’t get it.
At least walking on the fabric that was the bottom of his jeans spared him from stepping on that disgusting, disgusting floor. He had to do something about it, and the answer was to vacuum. He had to strain to remember where the floor cleaning closet was but once it was in his head it was easy to sign out the device and use it to clean his floor.
The sound of rocks and crumbs just didn’t cease and the noise of things being sucked up that device were pleasant. He liked that sound, it was strangely satisfying. By the time his next load was done his bedroom floor was spotless and he was about to run down to the laundry room when he eyed his bedding. He tore the comforter off and dashed down the hall, shoving it into the washer and leaving with arms filled with cool blue, green, and purple clothing. Jeans, nice shirts, socks. It was all there and nice. He hummed to himself while folding his girly underwear and shirts, failing to notice that his hair was now kept out of his face by a hair tie. He had a girly face, thin plucked eyebrows, beautiful big eyes, and a small shapely nose.
He was scrawny for a guy too, and as he put the last of his clothes away he took a long look at his room and frowned.
The dusting was easy, but every time he picked something up it would change in his hands before being put down. The clutter was organized, the walls washed down, and garbage hauled out of the room. He’d been cleaning for a while before he got the sense the laundry was done again.
He stuffed what was left of his bedding in the maw of the washer and returned with fiery reds, yellows, and oranges in his arms. With each shirt he folded his waist moved in a little, his hips flared out slightly, and his breasts poked out a little more. By the time he was done folding that load he looked like a girl wearing crusty boys clothes with a lump in his crotch being the only signal that he was a guy.
He could do much better at cleaning, so he strained to move the furniture, every push making his muscles get strong again, he moved wardrobes, couches, beds, and boxes all with the strength from his university sports career. He worked out every day after all, though it felt kind of hazy. Did he work out with the guys or the girls? Guys? No. Girls? No, wait yes. Yes he had workouts with the girls. He did yoga in the afternoons with a couple girls, he always felt sexy in the yoga pants and wanted to have the best ass possible. Guys loved girls with a nice ass. Too bad he was a guy. Oh well, the workout was good for his flexibility anyway.
He was a lithe athletic looking girl by the time he picked up his comforter, wrapping it around his body cozily and basking in the warmth. His skin got tanner, his hair got longer, and he felt all his body hair contract. Who wanted to see hairy breasts? Even if they were on a guy? Those breasts got nice, round, and perky while his waist displayed his abs and the sensual curves of his womanly hips and thin waist that most girls would kill for.
He washed the windows, swept and mopped the floor, organized his desk, and primed alarms on his phone for all the stuff he had to do. By the time he was done the room was a spotless clean paradise. Dishes were done, counters wiped, and air fresheners sprayed. Lane had earned himself a shower.
Nothing beat washing the sweat and stink off, and getting out of those crusty boy clothes? Dream come true. He stepped into the shower and let the hot water flow over his feminine body with a smile, the only male pet of him standing to attention. His hands found his member instinctively and began to work their magic on it. For some reason his girly hands were turning him on. Oh it felt so good to pump his junk. His blood left his brain as he began blissfully taken by hormones. He could feel a pressure building and building before what was possibly the best orgasm of his life rocked his body.
It was like all the excess flesh down there was turned into semen and sprayed from his dick. He felt a hollowness form inside him while his testicles shrunk and his dick got smaller, cum washed down the drain as his dick finally came itself out of existence and left her with a perfect little vagina.
She was Lana, an organized athlete who liked to keep things clean and in order. She panted in the shower before lathering herself up with nice shampoo and body wash to get the filth off. When she stepped out she made sure to comb her hair until it was organized, braid it back so it was out of the way and properly bound, and dressed herself in some of her new clothes all clean from her work that day.
When she grabbed her sheets and made her bed there really wasn’t anything left of Lane or the filth that had occupied his room anymore. All that was left was Lana, a neat freak tomboy with quite possibly the best ass on campus. Every guy worth their stuff showed up early at the gym hoping to lift weights while she ran on the treadmill or did squats. If you were lucky you’d get with her at a party and get to feel that round supple pair of peaches. But her roommates knew the truth, if you wanted to see Lana’s as in its prime you had to watch her clean, girl was thorough and cleaning meant bending down and crouching a lot.