Team-Building Transformation (Swimsuit TF) (donedonedone)

 https://www.furaffinity.net/view/46429704/

Every now and then one of those team-building fads comes along and someone wants to try it with me. It’s not too bad, and at this point I’ll do basically anything with the other guys on the swim team, but things can get pretty strange.

The newest fad was getting merged into a piece of clothing for your coach to wear. The football team had already tried it, five or six of them turned into a necklace and got worn around campus for a week. The necklace was a pretty ordinary-looking dogtag-like chain when I saw it, dangling around their coach’s neck. If Adam hadn’t pointed it out in the dining hall I wouldn’t have noticed there was anything special about it.

Merging into an object sounds weird, I know, but the other guys on the swim team and I had already experimented with a few transformation-related trust exercises, so this one wasn’t too much of a leap. Just last semester we all tried swapping bodies musical chairs-style. That was a pretty fun day, especially because I got swapped into Sam. I’m an otter and the second-shortest guy on the team, so of course I enjoyed my time looming over everyone else in Sam’s tall tiger body.

But anyway, this time it was merging, not body-swapping. Specifically, four of us Juniors would be merging into a swimsuit for our coach. Tom (a stag) was the one who suggested a swimsuit, and I suppose it was thematic. Adam (a fox) was of course interested as well since Tom was involved, and then Sam and I were the third and fourth.

The four of us—stag, fox, tiger, otter—met up in the locker room with our coach, who’s a black bear. Coach is one of those gruff, impassive types. He was mostly ambivalent about wearing four of his swimmers for a few days, but he went along with it to show his support. Coach sat on a bench while Tom instructed him on the incantation he needed to perform on us.

I always get a little nervous before any of these transformations. It’s irrational I know, the transformation spells are all perfectly voluntary and can be reverted at will. But still. I shifted my weight awkwardly from foot to foot and waved my rudder-like tail. Wouldn’t be using that appendage for a few days...

I looked up at Sam, standing with his striped arms crossed, seeming kind of bored. Next to him Adam bounced on his heels impatiently. Tom finished his little tutorial and stepped back to join us.

With no fanfare, Coach raised a bear paw and invoked the spell. The change was almost instantaneous. One moment I was standing there, completely myself, and the next my mind was awash with the three other guys’ thoughts. My body, which I shared with the others, was nothing but a speedo, lying flat on the floor.

Sam in particular couldn’t help thinking things were a little cramped as nothing but a single piece of fabric. He tried to move, but all that accomplished was make us twitch a fraction of an inch. All of us could feel the effort involved in that movement, and Tom and Adam both chimed in reminding Sam not to struggle. Their unified thought in that regard was too loud for me, drowning out my own thoughts for a time.

In the midst of our disorientation, our coach’s paw lifted us up off the ground. We all reacted with surprise at the sensation of being rubbed between two paw pads, that surprise being our first completely united thought. The unity was strange. It didn’t feel like us four individuals reacting to the heightened sensitivity of our fabric, it felt like a single powerful reaction from one entity.

Coach inspected us, perhaps looking for any sign of our former selves. Although we could somehow still view the world around us it was difficult for us to see ourselves, so it was hard to tell if Coach saw anything interesting. I felt like nothing but a swimsuit. I tried mentally reaching for the ghostly memory of my limbs and found nothing.

In fact, based on the way Adam squirmed when Coach opened our waistband to inspect our interior, we each had heightened perception over different parts of our new form. The once-fox was a strip around the waist, Tom was the rear, and Sam and I shared the front, the former tiger on the outer lining and me on the inner.

We each had little emotional moments where we considered how our particular part would function once we were put on. Sam teased Tom for becoming a literal ass, but Tom countered that Sam’s position as dick holder wasn’t much better. Adam and I stayed quiet, both of us a little overwhelmed but trying to relax.

Coach set us Tom-side up on the locker room bench while he undressed. He didn’t seem to notice or care that we were forced to watch him. Why would he? we asked ourselves collectively. To him we looked like any other swimsuit, it probably felt natural to treat us like one.

I don’t just look like a swimsuit. I am one for now, I—we thought together. We all felt slightly uneasy about those group thoughts. They were just so loud when we had them together, it sounded like the thoughts were coming from someone that wasn’t any of us.

Coach didn’t give us much time to consider things. His naked, black-furred body loomed large over us. Maybe it was the angle, or being much smaller than usual, but we couldn’t help thinking that Coach had a huge pair of furry balls and a cock that put each of ours to shame. How did he fit that girth in his other swimsuits? Sam and I in particular nervously wondered if we would be adequate. The spell was supposed to make us the perfect size for the spellcaster, but we certainly didn’t feel very large…

Once again Coach lifted us, only this time he brought us down to his foot paws. He casually held his new swimsuit open and pulled it up past his thick thighs to his waist. None of us could help it, we trembled at being stretched so wide. His cock and balls pressed right into me, like I was a glove. Coach was massive! I felt myself thin out to accommodate him, every bit of myself reduced to nothing but padding for the comfort of Coach’s bearhood. It was hard to think about anything but him. Particularly, the masculine part of him I covered.

We all tried to hold on to our consciousnesses. Adam’s mental presence was already just a low-grade hum of pleasure, which made sense given that the fox-turned-waistband was the most stretched of all of us. Sam managed to maintain himself for a time despite being distended into a heavy bulge the same way I was, but then Coach pulled on the front of his speedo and the former tiger’s mind dissolved into bliss. Coach let go, seeming comfortable with his adjustment, but what was left of the usually imposing tiger struggled to put its old self back together. Not that its new state felt at all uncomfortable to it.

Tom wasn’t doing too bad, but the former stag was definitely strained by the feeling of three of his close friends losing control. Putting on a show of confidence he asked us, H-had e-enough yet? We responded in a confused, wordless jumble that could only be interpreted as a resounding No.

Coach threw his towel over his shoulder and walked over to a mirror. His reflection looked… attractive. Coach had the all-around muscularness that comes from swimming, but the sharp lines on his sturdy stomach and arms were softened by his thick, shiny fur and, of course, the natural padding that came with being a bear. Orange fur colored his snout and spread across his pecs in a V.

It was almost a little frightening to look in a mirror and not see my whiskered otter face looking back at me. The others all felt the same way, only imagining their stripes or ears or antlers. I’m that swimsuit Coach is wearing in the mirror, we realized together. Our agreement on that subject was unintentionally overpowering.

We observed our new form as one, relieved that we didn’t look as tight as we felt. Being able to see Coach’s bulge through his swimsuit and match it up to what I was feeling put things in perspective. That really was me.

“Gotta say, y’all are pretty comfortable,” Coach said, looking at us in his reflection. Talking to his clothing must’ve felt a little awkward, because he looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. We tried to speak, only to be reminded that we couldn’t. Coach absent-mindedly scratched his balls and we twitched the imperceptible amount that we could in intense pleasure.

Accepting that he wouldn’t be getting a response from his new swimwear, Coach strode away from the mirror. To him it was any other walk to the outdoor pool. We bounced along, still incredibly full of Coach, and observed the world around us from our new perspective.

Several furs passed, including one of our teammates who looked down at us conspicuously. We told almost no one that we would be doing this today, but it was possible our teammate had heard. At first we thought someone in the hall would say something about us, but no one made any comments. Why would they? To them we were just an object. It was strange being seen as totally normal while in such a helpless position.

Coach pushed open an outer door and walked into the warm sunlight. Now we were in a really public place. Plenty of students, faculty, and other university staff lounged about, some sunbathing, others preparing for a swim. Coach set his towel down on an empty pool chair and walked over to the swim lane area, claws clicking on the cement.

Not as spry as he might once have been, Coach eased himself down and sat on the rim of the pool with his feet in the water. He also sat on Tom, who finally lost his cool and joined the rest of us as eager pieces of swimsuit fabric. Feeling him succumb was a bit of a relief. Now there wasn’t so much dissonance when I thought of myself as one unit.

Completely unaware of how his routine motions meant the world to me, Coach slid into the clear blue water. I felt the cool wetness permeate my form and was made suddenly aware that the only warmth I was feeling was coming from my wearer. My sense of sight was not impacted at all by being underwater, and I couldn’t have blinked even if I wanted to. After a few moments I felt the impulse to surface for air, but when I couldn’t escape from my wearer’s waist I remembered that swimsuits like me don’t need to breathe.

Coach started swimming freestyle. His large, flat paws propelled him through the water gracefully with practiced form. Anyone who even glanced in his direction would’ve been able to guess that he was a swim instructor. He reached the far wall and kicked off of it to turn around.

Meanwhile, I relaxed into the repetitive motions, given plenty of time to think. I say “I,” but it wasn’t that simple. Trying to remember anything from earlier that day was confusing. I remembered four different versions of events, and all of them felt like both my memory and not my memory. For each version, one nagging part of me said that it was the correct account of events while three fourths of myself found it unfamiliar. No… but I’m… I tried to think of my name, but it just came out as a garbled, multi-layered mess.

I guess swimsuits don’t have names, I thought as Coach kicked off the wall and started another lap. It was a strange thought to have, and I felt uneasy about it, but at least it was clear. I don’t have a name? But… the dissonance returned when I tried to complete that line of thought.

Tired from the mental exertion, I gave up trying to think about my old identity for the moment. I sliced through the water, continuing to provide my wearer with some modesty.

Everything felt sensitive and erotic as a swimsuit. The water passing through my fabric felt amazing, but what held my attention most was my wearer’s firm body I was moulded around. Every brush of the bear’s powerful thighs gave me so much pleasure that I would have cum in an instant… if only I still had the ability to. Fuck, I wished I could cum, even if I couldn’t remember with certainty what cumming used to be like. The combined need of four individuals kept in denial was too much for any one of us to handle alone, so I was prevented from trying to assert myself and remember how I used to cum.

Was this what it would be like the whole time as a swimsuit? Locked in endless bliss with no hope for release, while my wearer simply went about his day? If it was, this was going to be a great, if embarrassing, few days. The only thing I wanted was to keep being worn, but being worn just made me even more unbearably needy. Please don’t stop, coach, I thought four times over.

What followed felt like a lifetime’s worth of swimming. Coach flipped over to do some backstrokes and we were thrust above water for the first time in minutes. The part of us above water was once… Sam? Or was it me? Either way I felt it clearly, full of Coach’s bear meat and incredibly sensitive to the lapping of water against it. I could even see out of it.

I idly observed the sky and the furs milling around the pool while being treated to the greatest pleasure of my existence. All parts of me agreed that nothing had ever felt half as good. I felt a twinge of embarrassment that I was visible while experiencing so much sexual gratification, but surely spectators had no way of knowing what it felt like for me, or that I was even capable of thought. I was just a piece of clothing the handsome bear was using to hold his dick.

Although my emotions were outwardly invisible, I reminded myself that my friends were constantly receiving an intimate look at my mind. Luckily they were in no position to tease me. I could hardly even pick out any pieces of our minds that were distinctly one of us, but whenever I did it seemed like they were struggling with the exact same shameful urges. I relaxed further, confident that there wouldn’t be any judgement from them for enjoying myself.

I could tell from the heat coming off Coach’s body that he was getting tired. His thigh and ab muscles burned from use, but I was lucky enough not to have to exert myself to receive pleasure. Coach had the much more strenuous role being my wearer, and I found myself inwardly hoping that my reliable presence eased his burden in some small way. Taking one leisurely final lap, Coach stopped at the side of the pool and put his arms over the edge to hold himself up.

I expected my wearer to lift himself out, but instead he stayed there on the side, bumping his bulge against the pool wall. It took me a second to realize that he was talking to someone above the water. I could feel the pleasant rumble of his voice through his body, but I couldn’t make out what he or his conversation partner was saying. I was surprisingly content to just be there underwater, not included. While he talked his pulse rate slowly returned to pre-workout levels.

I was feeling warmer than ever, though. Twitch. Oh fuck. Whoever Coach was talking to, they clearly held some sexual interest for him. His flaccid cock was filling with blood, growing right up against me. Twitch. My shame at being privy to private knowledge of my coach’s arousal was counteracted by how good his cock felt firming up beneath me. Coach had enough self-control not to pop a full-on boner. He got just hard enough that someone would be able to see the clear outline of his dick through his swimsuit. I was in heaven.

Finally, Coach pulled himself out of the water. I was mostly focused on the bliss I was receiving from my wearer’s maleness, but I couldn’t exactly close my eyes to not see who my wearer was talking to. It was a moose. He was taller and lankier than Coach, but no less athletic-looking.

Evidently at a lull in their conversation, the moose noticed me immediately. “Is that a new swimsuit?” he asked.

Coach looked down with mild surprise, perhaps having forgotten that he was wearing me. “It is. Some students, uh, got it for me as a gift.”

“Must’ve been an expensive speedo if they had to buy it together,” the moose said joshingly. “Well, maybe it was worth it, because it looks good on you.”

Coach chuckled, like he doubted his friend’s compliment for some reason. He kept his voice low. “Uh huh. I know you, Don. You’re just hoping flattery will get me to take it off for you.” He sidled up to the moose to give the other male a covert ass squeeze.

The moose flinched but didn’t pull away. “No, I just meant it looks good on you. Not that I’d mind if you did take it off.” He smirked.

“Later,” my wearer said with a lecherous grin. “I have some errands I need to run first.”

They parted ways. Coach went to get his towel while the moose took over the newly vacated swim lane. I watched the object of my wearer’s affection a little longer, wondering if I’d get to see him later, too. Coach had agreed to wear us as much as possible while we were transformed, otherwise it wouldn’t be a useful exercise. I imagined what it would be like if I was underneath Coach’s pants when the two males next met in a more private location.

My remembered ideas about my own sexual preferences were a complete mess. The only internal agreement I felt was that anyone who made my wearer aroused had to be sexy. And the moose even complimented me as a good-looking swimsuit! I felt more confident than ever in my new form as Coach strode back inside. I was happily on display, stretched around my wearer’s semi for the world to see.

Coach’s next stop was the showers. He needed to wash all the chlorine out of his fur and out of me, so he kept me on as he stepped into the stall.

Despite leaving the desirable moose behind, Coach’s cock had only gotten harder. I was embarrassed to find that I didn’t mind. In fact, I was more excited than I wanted to be.

I twitched feebly in happiness and Coach’s massive dick flexed even more than I could move on my own. It set off an unintentional chain reaction. The pleasurable strain of being tented by my wearer’s cock caused me to twitch, which caused him to harden, which caused me to twitch some more.

Warm water from the shower dripped down and wetted the fat cock sleeved inside my bulging form. Despite the size increase, I still didn’t feel uncomfortable around Coach’s meat. In fact, the feeling of him throbbing inside of me was more pleasurable than I could have possibly imagined, like I was designed to comfort him in exactly this way. Maybe the part of the spell that ensured I’d fit him also applied while he was hard. My wearer adjusted his stance and I tried to stop twitching before he noticed.

Starting at his head, Coach used his claws to comb the pool water out of his thick black fur. He brushed off his arms, then moved down to his belly. I focused incredibly hard to not betray my eagerness for his touch.

Coach hesitated, looking down at his erection-stretched speedo. He had agreed beforehand that he would treat us like any other one of his possessions while we were transformed, and that he didn’t have to worry about doing anything we wouldn’t like, but the memory of who we once were clearly crossed his mind. At the very least, the knowledge that four of his proteges had willingly transformed into a cock holder for him, and weren’t changing back despite the obvious implications of where this was going, wasn’t doing anything to lessen his arousal. He flexed his dick once more, intentionally that time, and I saw the corners of his mouth curl up in a smirk when I remained an inert speedo.

My wearer’s concern was understandable but misplaced. I had been hoping he would stroke himself through me from the moment he put me on, shameful as it was to admit it to myself. The idea was strangely compelling, as if I would be able to finally feel release if he came. The need to cum was unbearable at that point, and although I knew logically that swimsuits didn’t cum that didn’t stop me from holding out hope. Even if I couldn’t cum the friction would be worth it. I would take anything!

Coach’s large bear paw wrapped around his even more massive cock within me. Then he stroked himself from base to tip. I was sandwiched in between, just a layer of fabric that my wearer was too lazy or horny to bother taking off. Evidently pleased with the stimulation, the bear tilted his head up to let water splash across his chest. He built up a rhythm to his stroking.

Feeling Coach jerk off with me on was everything I dreamed it would be and more. His paw pads ran smoothly over my wet cloth with just the right amount of friction to make me want to squirm, only I was held too tightly against the bear’s huge rod to move even the tiniest bit. It was better than jerking off ourselves. Hell, it was better than any sex in any of our memories. I felt a twinge of shame that this right here—being a swimsuit for a male to jerk off into—was better than anything in the combined life experiences of four beasts.

Thankfully the pleasure would continue regardless of how embarrassed I felt about it. Rivulets of water ran down Coach’s length and dripped off his tip, carrying some of his pre away with it. I was so horny I imagined I could feel just how relieved the bear was to be rubbing one out after a good swim. Even if I never got release with a cock of my own, I was happy he’d be getting his release soon.

I wasn’t sure how I’d ever be able to go back to my old self (selves?) after being Coach’s cock sleeve. But I don’t have to go back… one of those particularly united thoughts said to me. As much as I had been trying not to think about it, changing back was just as voluntary as the initial transformation had been... If I wanted to, I could be a swimsuit forever.

The thought of being this way forever, getting worn and everything that entailed from then on, frightened me, but also filled me with incredible lust. Was that all I saw myself as? Just a swimsuit? Yes, came the united voice, in time with one of Coach’s strokes. Parts of me considered disagreeing, but I was a little shocked when none of us spoke up to protest. It would almost have been a relief if someone said “no,” because then I would’ve had a good reason to change back. But without any dissenting voices…

My wearer—my owner—casually reached over with his other paw and started massaging his dripping swimsuit-covered balls. Thinking of myself as Coach’s possession still felt illicit, but in the midst of all the pleasure he was so graciously giving me I couldn’t help experimenting with new lines of thought.

I wasn’t any one of the four friends that composed me anymore, was I? No, at some point “I” had become all of them without my realizing. I thought with some amusement that just by thinking I was making what remained of the four of them think with me. I could walk through each of their memories if I wanted to because all those memories belonged to me.

Pump. Pump. Pump. I was just a swimsuit, Coach’s tight, worn, form-fitting swimsuit, not caring that it was about to be used as his cum rag. I mentally explored my whole form, extending from the seat of my owner’s toned ass, around his waist, and then all the way up his thick, throbbing bear meat. I didn’t have to be ashamed of being used if this was what I’d be forever…

I wondered how Coach would react when the days stretched on and his swimsuit stayed in his possession. He would probably look at me and wonder if something was wrong, but he wouldn’t be able to stop me. Hopefully I was a good enough swimsuit that he honored our agreement to keep wearing me as often as possible. That felt likely, given that he liked wearing his new swimsuit enough to masturbate in me on the first day.

If I go through with this, I’ll never be able to cum again, I thought to myself with some trepidation. It was the one thing that gave me second thoughts. Getting jerked off into felt amazing, but was I willing to permanently give up my ability to orgasm? Just for the chance to feel my owner use me again and again? I was so unbearably needy… I should have cum so long ago but my form remained frustratingly incapable of doing so!

The warm cock I was wrapped around throbbed harder. I doubt my owner intended to take this long for what was just a quick letting off of steam for him, but he certainly looked like he was enjoying himself. He huffed through the water droplets, then scrunched his eyes a bit in concentration.

The black bear thrusted his hips into his paws, cock pulsing rhythmically. My mind shut off, hoping to lose myself in my owner’s release. Finally, he came.

Molten bear cum poured from my owner’s cock in great, manly bursts. His load was proportional to the size of his equipment, more than enough cum to wash away any of my lingering doubts about being his swimsuit for good. I could feel the satisfaction it must’ve given him, using what was once four willing people as his personal cum rag. I was able to forget my own wants, any dreams I once had for myself, and just be whatever my owner wanted to use me for.

My owner’s balls continued to churn out cum, but the bear was already untensing. He opened his eyes and pointed his orange-furred muzzle in my direction. He watched lazily as more cum spurted out of his cock tip and through me, creating a river of cum that ran down the outline of his cock and dripped from his balls. I held onto the relief of being his cum rag as tightly as I could.

Orgasm subsiding, my owner looked up at the shower head. He still needed to finish cleaning off. He looped his clawed thumbs through my waistband and pulled me down and off his foot paws.

“Sorry, I’ll put you in the washer when I get home,” the bear mumbled under the noise of the shower, wrapping me in his chlorine-smelling towel.

I wanted to be disappointed about being taken off, but I was happy my owner was getting the chance to wash up without me in the way. As I sat there, his cum slowly drying inside of me, knowledge of my unfulfilled need slowly returned. I suppose the neediness was the price I had to pay to be his swimsuit, so I had to learn to deal with it. Luckily, I could still feel his cum permeating my fabric. That cum was the closest thing I had to relief, and I cherished it. I stayed there for hours, dreaming of what it was like being worn, and awaiting the next time my owner put me on.