Wardrobe Malfunction - Early Access (Clothes)

 Finding out my wife was a witch would've probably made me laugh if she didn't follow it by casting magic on me. Apparently, she had grown quite tired of me over the years. Still, the idea of a divorce was too messy when you included lawyers and the paperwork they brought along, so she decided on an easier option, removing me from the equation altogether.

 As light spiraled from her fingers, I felt my body changing to her ideal form for me. My body was contorted, flattening until I was almost two-dimensional, then my skin started to change. I had no choice but to watch as my skin turned pink and light. Soon I was reduced to nothing besides a sheet of rose-colored gossamer silk, but I still had to be manipulated to her needs.

 I was lifted from the pile on the floor, draping over seemingly nothing before my wife's, or I guess ex-wife's fingers started to twirl. My body was twisted and stretched, knotted and weaved, stitched and cut until she forced me onto the bed to admire her handy work. She slipped off her clothes, revealing the body I'd seen countless times except for once, it struck fear in me instead of lust.

 She lifted my body as if it were weightless, allowing me to flutter within her grasp before slipping her fingers into the hole that formed where my legs once were. The pleasure as she slipped my new body over her soft skin mingled with the terror and hatred I felt toward the woman who reduced me to some object. She pulled me taut over her large bed, her nipples poking through me, and stepped in front of a mirror. To my horror, I saw my new form adorning her curvy body. I was now negligee, smooth and shiny. I could see the stress her bosoms put on my straps, the heft causing a mix of emotions that a human shouldn't feel.

 "Don't worry, babe," she spoke in the soft, melodic voice that lured me in all those years ago, "Only I know that you were ever a person, so your loved ones won't miss you." She smoothed a crease in my fabric as the reality that I was a nightgown for someone who respected me so little that they thought I'd be better as an object than a person. I had no way of knowing how long my life would live or if she would ever die, so I'd better prepare myself for a long first night of many.