Excitement flooded through Frieda as she entered the laundry room. Kneeling next to the dryer was Penelope, still as beautiful as that afternoon. This was a wonderful opportunity.
“Washer open?” Frieda asked and Penelope turned. Her face flushed red in seconds and she shielded her eyes in embarrassment.
“No!” She squeaked. Her voice was so unbelievably pretty, and embarrassment was cute on her.
“Well, do you have some clothes I can borrow?” Frieda asked and Penelope practically tossed a pair of underpants and a hoodie at her. Frieda dropped her laundry and took the warm garments in her hands with a smile. She swiftly pulled the panties on, moaning at the warmth suddenly encasing her crotch. The hoodie was even better, wrapping around her shoulders and breasts lovingly.
Penelope gathered up all her unfolded clothes, eager to escape this moaning girl, but she hesitated and felt her jaw go slack. The girl was changing before her eyes. Hair was cascading down her back, turning blonde and moving as of alive. It slithered upwards, pulling itself up and braiding on its own. It tucked itself away neatly behind her head, out of the way and perfectly held. It would not release unless given permission and she wanted nothing more than to be the one to unleash it.
Frieda continued to moan as her breasts strained against the fabric of the hoodie and her hips widened. Every curve along her body was becoming more pronounced and her toes wiggled in pleasure against the carpet. Her features, already pretty, became cleaner and more alluring. Her voice too began to deepen and shift in tone. A faint accent lingered on it, thickening by the second. That hoodie began to shift. The zipper vanished and the hem extended downwards, puffing out into frills and changing material. The waist pinched in and the neckline lowered, exposing a deep valley of cleavage that Penelope longed to fall into. The sleeves shortened to her shoulders, puffing up gently while the entire garment became black.
“Socks,” Frieda begged in a clear French accent. Penelope couldn’t resist. She handed the girl a pair of socks and watched excitedly as she pulled them onto her long smooth legs. They stretched up and up, past the bottom of her dress and right to the edge of the panties. There they stuck in place, long sexy stockings. “More.” Frieda begged again and who was Penelope to say no.
Two dark socks were pulled onto her feet and quickly hardened and darkened until they were a cute pair of black heels. When Frieda stood she was taller and that height made Penelope lick her lips. She handed the girl a white shirt and she held it against her chest to see if it would fit. The arms sprang around her neck and the garnet shifted into a pure white apron. Lastly Frieda bent down and picked up a fallen sock, gently setting it on her brow. It transformed into a little frilly headpiece and the transformation was complete.
“Non, non, non, Miss Penelope,” Frieda cooed in that gorgeous French accent. She quickly grabbed all the unfolded clothing from Penelope’s arms. “Leave the laundry to me, what would your father think of you were acting a peasant.”
Everything she said made Penelope wetter than she even thought possible. She bit her lip to stifle her excitement and it was not working.