Posing in a pair of bright red spandex Papi Platinum Eurobriefs,
Connor tucks his thumbs into the waistband. I wonder how the underwear
feels being wrapped around a hot model like me, he thought. Then he
realized his mistake as he started to feel hollow. He watched his
reflection as his skin tone seemed at first to redden as if he was
blushing. Then it became like a bad sunburn, and then he was the same
color as the trunks around his middle.
Connor calmed himself. As soon as he was completely changed, he could
change back. Just as he felt himself hollowing out, he heard a voice.
"I'm sure we have a pair of those red Papi trunks, sir. Just let me
have a peek in the back," said a harried male voice.
There were two pairs of underwear on the floor when the changing room
door opened and the salesman swept in. He reached down and grabbed
both pairs of underwear. He set on pair on the hook, and clipped
Connor to the hanger. He looked at the underwear and shook his head.
Then he spotted the sales tag and manufacturers tag sitting on the
chair where Connor had set them when he removed them before trying on
the tight spandex undies.
"Aha!" he said scooping up the tags. He stopped into the stockroom
and used a black plastic gun to attach the tags to Connor. Then he
brought them out to the small but well proportioned Italian
businessman standing at the register. He asked the man, "Will these
do?"
"Yes, those will be fine. Now as soon as the tailor brings my new
trousers, bring them to me. I'll be in the dressing room wearing my
new dry underwear."
"Yes, sir. Again, sir, the department store is totally apologetic
about the entire incident. The garments will all be gratis, including
the tailoring." He scans the underwear price tag and hands Connor to
the Italian.
Now Connor can see that the Italian's suit, tie & shirt are all wet
with a large damp spot from his chest to his knees. He is grabs a bag
with a shirt, socks, and tie in it. He carries Connor into a
different dressing room and strips naked.
He stops to admire himself in the mirror. Connor thinks the guy could
be a model if he were taller. He looks a lot like Michaelangelo's
David, but he's probably between 5' 5" and 5' 7", Connor guesses based
on the door frame's height relative to him.
At last he reaches and removes Connor from his hanger. He steps into
Connor, left leg first, then his right. He pulls up with both hands
filling Connor's pouch with his manhood. The guy poses as he admires
his physique and the way the Papi's look on his body. He's starting
to get hard. Connor wonders if its because of the way his spandex
body is hugging the guy's junk or if it's because he's getting turned
on looking at himself? Maybe a bit of both, Connor decides.
"You new pants and jacket are ready, sir," says the salesman.
"Bring them in," orders the Italian.
The salesman blushes as he see the Italian in his tented underwear.
The Italian smirks. He enjoys the salesman's reaction.
"My damaged clothes - your manager said he would have them cleaned and
shipped to me. How long do you think that will take? I have a flight
to catch in 2 hours to Tokyo, then I've got a 12 hour flight."
"It'll take a day at least, sir. We could overnight them to you in
Japan tomorrow night, but I think that would probably take two days,
so it should arrive in 3-4 days. Where are you staying in Tokyo?"
"That won't do. I'm only in Tokyo for a day and half. Each day a
different City. Four in Japan, six in China, then Thailand, Vietnam,
India, and finally Malaysia. I know, ship them to the Royal Hotel in
Sydney, Australia. I'll be there in two weeks."
"Yes, sir."
The Italian dresses and Connor is plunged into darkness under his
clothing. Then Connor feels the Italian moving, and he moves
effortlessly with him. It's so erotic, it's like someone is massaging
Connor's entire body.
Damn, it feels good to be underwear, Connor thought. Suddenly, he is
stretched as the Italian sits down. Connor wonders who the man is, and
listens attentively hoping to learn his name. Connor thinks he'll
change back into a guy in Tokyo after the Italian takes him off, and
then maybe he can change himself into a postcard and mail himself
home. The Italian's butt cheeks suddenly spread and there is a loud
blast of stinky hot gas inside Connor.
"Oh, who serves broccoli, beans, and cheese? And why did I have to
eat so much of it?" the Italian mutters to himself in English, as he
farts again.
Did he say 12 hours seated on the plane?