Race Against the Sock – Suo Sango’s New Thigh-Highs (Clothing TF, 2nd Person, Vtuber) (Patreon)

The clamor of the doorbell yanks you out of your reverie. Strange, you think as you move to answer it. Birthday or not, you weren’t expecting any guests. In fact, you’d planned to spend the whole day inside, screwing around and playing games. 

When you open the door, there’s no-one there – perhaps your assumption of surprise guests and parties was a little hasty. But there is a box, and it’s a big, beautiful box, wrapped in bright blue paper and tied with a fancy pink ribbon. It looks like it’s fallen straight out of a Christmassy cartoon episode.

You turn it around, shaking it softly, trying to make out what’s inside. You weren’t expecting any guests and you weren’t expecting any parties, and you weren’t really expecting anyone to send you any presents. There’s no sign of who it’s from, either: the tag simply has your name on it. It’s the only way you know it wasn’t meant for your neighbor. 

Back inside, you plant the present on your desk and sit there, wringing your fingers and wondering who the hell would send you a present like this. 

But that’s a mystery you can solve later. The real question is: what’s inside the thing? No matter how much you shake it or how closely you listen, you can’t figure out the answer. It sounds like it’s full of dust, but that can’t be right, can it? Unless it’s one of those glitter bombs, but who the hell would send you glitter bombs on your birthday? You haven’t pissed anyone off that badly, have you?

Ultimately, there’s only one way to find out, and that’s to stick it in the X-ray machine. Unfortunately you don’t have one, so you’ll just have to open it. The ribbon comes undone with a silky swish. But as you take the lid and lift…

A poof, a comical cartoon poof. Smoke fills the room; everything goes pink on you. 

As you hack and cough, your couch disappears from beneath you, and with a thud you drop to the floor and lie there clasping your tail bone and wincing as the opened box lands with a sad smack beside you. You struggle to breathe, the smoke is so thick. What the hell is happening?! 

It takes almost a full minute for the smoke to finally clear, and for you to clamber back to your feet and regain your bearings. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like you’re in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. In fact, it looks like you’re in a bedroom, and it’s definitely not your own. 

The room’s namesake is far tidier than your own bed, to start with. Also, the fancy computer on the desk looks nothing like your own. Actually there are two computers, though only one of them has a camera. The portion of the room in its line of sight has been carefully cultivated – this is definitely the bedroom of a streamer.

What the hell happened?! Have you been teleported? 

As you turn in confusion, your foot catches the empty present. Glancing down, you realize this assumption is wrong: there is something inside it. This turns out to be a brief note:

Hi! You’ve just been teleported! 

Welcome to Suo Sango’s mansion! Yes, that’s right, Suo Sango’s real house! Isn’t it neat? 

You almost drop the letter. Suo Sango’s mansion?! You can’t be here. You can’t be here. What if she finds you and thinks you’re an intruder?! You’d never break into her house! You’re her biggest fan, but not in that way!

The note has pre-empted you: 

Don’t panic – she’s not here! We’ve made sure that you’re allllll alone so you can play the little game we’ve prepared…

Game? 

The rules are very simple: 

In a couple of seconds, you’re going to start turning into your favorite streamer’s brand new thigh-high socks. 

…What?! WHAT?!

You’ve got one hour to escape the mansion before the transformation is complete, and you’re stuck. Have fun! 

The letter falls from your hands. This can’t be happening. It can’t be! How is this even possible?! 

Even as you whirl in frustration, a strange wave of tingling passes through your body. You freeze, looking down at your hand, and grimace to find it shaking. Is it just fear? Is it just your nerves? Or is the start of the transformation they mentioned? 

Whatever the answer, you can figure it out on the go. Rushing the door, you grab the handle, and yank. Predictably, it’s locked. 

Shit. What now? Can you climb out of the window? A quick inspection reveals it’s locked as well. Also, you’re three storeys up, and that rosebush down below doesn’t look like the nicest landing place. Grimacing, you return to the door. 

Closer examination confirms it is locked, and not merely blocked from the other side. There’s no latch or anything you can undo, but there is a keyhole. So presumably there’s a key. (Assuming it was locked from this side, anyway…)

You turn back to Suo Sango’s bedroom. You’re not sure exactly what her role in all this is, but you feel a little guilty about what’s about to happen all the same. Well, whatever: once you get out of here, you can always apologise, assuming she’s innocent. 

Taking a deep breath, you start ransacking. 

It takes ten minutes to find the stupid thing. One whole sixth of your allotted hour, and the worst is, it wasn’t even hidden that well. Suo, or whoever set this stupid game up, simply dumped the thing on her desk behind a pile of post-it notes. 

Worse than the time you’ve lost is the effect on your body. As you searched, the tingling grew stronger and stronger, leaving you feeling like you’re suffering the world’s worst case of pins-and-needles. By the time you finally get the key in the lock, your teeth are practically chattering with the intensity. It takes a genuine moment of willpower to turn the key properly. 

With a click, the door unlocks. You grab the handle, yank it open, and fling yourself out into the corridor beyond. 

The hallway of a mansion yawns before you, seemingly infinite in both directions. You stand and boggle for several precious seconds. Where the hell does Suo live, the Overlook Hotel?

You catch your breath, struggling to decide to go left or go right, and in the end flip a mental coin. Heads, which means left! No, right! Spinning, you half-march, half-run, too afraid to miss anything. 

After the third locked door, you give up on trying them and pick up speed instead, searching for the stairs. You’ve established you’re on the third floor, so getting down to ground level seems like your best option, doesn’t it? After all, that’s where they normally put the exit. 

You have to circle (or square) the whole house before you find them. It turns out they were actually just left of Suo’s room. Descending, you find a larger foyer, and there, straight ahead of you: the exit. Two giant glass doors, large and inviting. Or whatever the opposite of inviting is, since you want this party to be over.

With a quiet cry of victory, you run for them, grab the handles, and yank. Predictably, they’re locked, but who gives a damn? They’re made of glass – tempered, presumably, but breaking them should be still easy enough. All you need is something with a point…

You settle on the sword hanging over the fireplace. It takes some effort to get it: you have to push one of the ottomans all the way over, then clamber on top of it, your body tingling a little more with every second it takes. Finally, you succeed in getting your hands around it, and with much effort, hopping back down to the ground. You feel like laughing in triumph as you haul it back to the doors. 

Your celebrations are a little early. As you haul the sword across Suo’s living room, something strange happens. It’s like the stupid thing is gaining weight – with every footstep you take, it becomes that little bit harder to carry. By the time you’re halfway across, you’re forced to hold it on your shoulder, and by the time you’re three-quarters, you’re reduced to dragging it by the hilt, lest its weight crush your beneath it. You pant as you struggle to pull. What the hell is happening?! How can it be so heavy all of a sudden? 

By the time you finally reach the door, your plan no longer seems as simple. By now, it takes all your strength simply to pull the thing, so there’s zero chance of you picking it up and hitting anything with it. Dropping it with a snarl, you whirl. It doesn’t matter; there are plenty of other things you can shatter some stupid doors with. 

You settle on the lamp on the coffee table. It might not be as sharp, but it should certainly suffice to shatter glass, tempered or not, provided you throw it hard enough. Wrapping your arms around it, you squeeze tight, breathe hard, and–

–gasp to realize it’s impossible. It’s like the stupid thing weighs a million tons. What the hell is going on?! Why is everything so heavy all of a–

You raise your hands. All of a sudden, you can’t believe you’ve been so stupid. Of course it isn’t the house getting heavier; it’s you getting weaker. Losing your strength as your muscles turn to cloth. 

You yank your sleeves up. Sure enough, your arms have changed: not only has all your muscle gone – admittedly, you weren’t exactly a bodybuilder – but your skin has turned smooth and hairless and soft. Silky, as if you’re wrapped in velvet. Pulling your trousers up confirms the same has happened to your legs. You must have lost some weight, or they’d be struggling to support you. 

Now what do you do?! 

You glance at the clock over the mantel. 20 minutes. 20 minutes since you first arrived here. You’ve used up a third of your time, and already your body is showing serious signs of sockification. How long until it no longer matters how long is left because you’re a sock from the neck down and can’t do anything anyway? You can’t afford to wait around and find out. You need to get out of here immediately.

With brute force no longer an option, you ransack the area for keys, your skin a little slicker with sweat with every passing second. You check under the welcome mat, under the plant pots, under the cushions of the sofa… but no matter how hard you search, there’s no sign of them whatsoever. You even run all the way to Suo’s kitchen, just in case they’re hanging up on one of those wholesome wooden key-racks, but you have no luck there either. In the end, you have to retreat. What now?

An idea occurs to you: you might not be able to lift something, but that doesn’t mean you can’t push something… You glance back at the stairs. If you can get something and push it down them, get it rolling nice and fast, you might just be able to shatter the door that way. The only question is… what? 

You rush back up the stairs – this doesn’t take long, despite your loss of strength, because your changing body is so light it flies straight up them. Reaching the third floor, you rush into Suo’s room, look around, and settle on her gaming chair. Perfect! 

Despite its wheels, it still takes a lot of effort to push it to the top of the staircase. By the time you arrive, your heart is pounding and your skin coated with sweat. Nonetheless, your adrenaline keeps you going – taking a deep breath, you push, sending it bouncing down the first flight of stairs to the second floor. You take a deep breath, rush after it. 

Standing there on the second, looking down at the doors ahead, your doubts gnaw at you. Now you’re actually here, your plan doesn’t seem quite so good. Will you really be able to get the chair moving hard enough to break the doors? Maybe if you had a longer staircase, but…

You shake your head. No, no matter the truth, you don’t have the time for doubts like this. All you can do is keep trying. 

And so, planting your hands on the back of the chair, you push–

–and collapse with a gasp as your legs give way beneath you. 

Striking the ground chest-first, you lie there and moan, the breath knocked out of you. What’s happening now?

The tingling is worst in your legs. Rolling over, you wrench your pants up: instead of the pale flesh you’re expecting, they’re turned dark, a deep, rich shade of brown, almost black. When you touch them, your fingers sink, as if they’re nothing more than a half-inflated balloon. You goggle at them. How can this be happening so soon?! You were supposed to have more time left! 

Heart pounding faster and faster, you flip back onto your front and scrabble in the direction of the chair, dragging your flat, empty legs behind you. If you can just give it a push– Just one good push…!

In the end, it takes almost all the strength you have left. But at last, with a deep breath and one final mighty effort, you manage it: pushing the chair, you send it toppling over the edge. 

For a second, it sits there still, half on the landing and half off it. Just as you’re about to lose hope, however, gravity finally reasserts its dominance. The chair falls, strikes the staircases, rolls, bounces, rolls some more picking up speed now, bounces again, sails briefly through the air, strikes the stairs again, picks up more speed, and at last, spinning like a world-class pitcher’s fast ball–! 

–strikes the door and bounces off it with a useless, embarrassing plink.

All you can do is sit there and stare at it. No. No, it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. You tried so hard – how can it just fail like that?! What are you supposed to do now?! 

A spasm strikes your groin – you gasp. By now the change has spread all the way up to your thighs, and as it wraps around your groin it tickles it, caresses it, grabs your cock and strokes it with something like affection.

Squealing, you scrabble backward and clasp at yourself, fighting to tear away the invisible hands playing whack-a-mole with your penis. It’s futile, of course – in the end, all you achieve is tearing your pants down: it gives you an excellent view of your giant erection as it turns a dark black and collapses like a punctured balloon. Sinking slowly into your groin, it soon vanishes entirely, leaving only a smooth plane where it and your testicles used to be. 

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be–

As your groin parts, splitting slowly into the middle section of two distinct, individual socks, you block out the bizarre sensation and try desperately to focus on your next course of action. What should you do? What should you do? Your head snaps left and right in search of an answer.

Just when you’re about to give up, an idea occurs to you: the phone! If you can’t escape yourself, you can at least call for help! There’s still at least thirty five minutes left till – that should be more than enough time for the police or the fire brigade to get here and knock the door down, shouldn’t it? 

Your hope reignited, you scramble to move. There’s only one problem with your assumption, of course, and that’s that you have no idea where the nearest phone is. Yours was left at home when you were transported, and you don’t recall seeing one here, either. Maybe there’s one in Suo’s room…? Ah, but there could also be one downstairs too, couldn’t there? 

From your place here on the landing, it’s a difficult journey either way, and you spend a little one of your remaining minutes, sitting there chewing your lip and wondering whether to go upward or downward. In the end, you choose ‘up’. At least if you fail to find one upstairs, it’ll be much easier to get down…

Not that climbing even half the stairs is an easy task. By now, the change is gnawing away at your belly, and with little left in the way of legs, you’re forced to rely on your much reduced arms to climb. Fortunately your body has lost so much weight that their reduced strength isn’t the obstacle it could be, though it still requires every ounce of willpower you have to haul yourself up one step after the next, heading steadily towards the second floor. 

On arrival, you make your way straight to Suo’s room, dragging your limp lower body across the floor as fast as your changing flesh will allow you. Inside, you find no sign of a phone, but you do find her computer, which is just as good as one. 

With your legs gone, and having pushed her chair down the stairs, you have some difficulty using it, however. In the end, you have to climb onto her bed and, from there, struggle to stretch yourself onto her desk, where fate rewards your efforts by revealing the computer is locked. You swear, tempted to punch it in frustration.

Back outside, you sit in the corridor, wondering what to do next. By now, maybe half an hour remains: the transformation has covered your gut, reducing your stomach to a flat patch of cloth, which is dividing like an amoeba. The sense of emptiness is practically painful – a part of you wants nothing more than to rush to the kitchen and eat everything you can find there.

Fortunately, the more sensible part of you is still in charge. You decide against checking the other rooms on the second floor: you don’t any of them are more likely to have a phone than Suo’s bedroom, and that means your only recourse is downstairs. 

Descending is, as you guessed, much easier than ascending, though it’s still pretty embarrassing to have to bounce down the steps one by one like a toddler. At the very least it doesn’t take long, and soon enough you’re back in the foyer, looking around for your last, desperate lifeline. If you were Suo Sango, where would you put your phone…? Where would you put it? Where…?

It’s not by the door, that much is obvious. It’s nowhere else in view of the stairs, either. The living room, too, proves to be empty, and by the time you reach the kitchen you’re running out of hope. 

Only at the last second, as you’re about to give up, do you see your salvation: there, hanging off the wall beside the calendar: a classic landline! Strange, you never would have guessed Suo had one.

Salvation or not, it’s not an easy one. Hanging high up on the wall, it might as well be a million miles away from you. Lying there on the floor, you chew your lip and look around, wondering how to get to it. Your only option is to get onto the kitchen counter somehow, but how are you meant to do that when you don’t have any legs? 

You end up grabbing a stool and dragging it to the phone, making it screech against the tiles. This done, you pause, catch your breath, and look up: the seat of the thing hangs overhead like the canopy of a forest of wooden legs. You grip your teeth – it’s a good job you’re so light now, or this would be outright impossible. 

Stretching as high as you physically can – which isn’t high at all now that you’re down to your chest – you grab the edge of the seat and, with much tugging and gasping, manage to pull yourself up. From there, it’s almost easy to clamber onto the counter and slide along it to the phone. 

The next part is tricky: the counter ends a good meter from the doorway and the phone, and so you have little choice but to hold the handle of one of the cupboards and reach for it, fingers flexing desperately. After a second, you have to give up – your arms just aren’t long enough. Pulling back, you scan the kitchen for something to knock it off the holder with it. 

A minute or two later, you return with a spatula. Clinging to the cupboard, you reach out and swing it. If you can just knock the stupid thing down to the floor…

By now, the change is well into your chest, and as it reknits your pectorals into cloth, your last remaining vestiges of strength splutter out and die on you – with every moment, holding the spatula becomes that little bit harder. At last, terrified you’re going to drop and this will all be for nothing, you simply draw back and throw. It strikes the phone and knocks it from the holder. You collapse, panting for breath as much as in relief. 

You can no longer feel your heart thudding in your chest, but if you could, you imagine it would be racing as you slide, weak as slug, back along the counter to the stool. Climbing down it is beyond your abilities now – you have no choice but to throw yourself from it. Fortunately, your fabricized body cushions the impact. 

Down on the floor, you lie there and whimper, struggling to regain the power to move. The phone lies three or four meters away. So close, so close you practically feel it. All you have to do is get over there and use it. 

Movement is nigh-impossible. With your chest gone, your limbs are weak as string, and it takes an intolerable time to move even a millimeter. 

Above, on the kitchen wall, the clock ticks away mercilessly, shaving the seconds off the time left to your doom. Only fifteen minutes remain, and you’re close to your limit already. You don’t know if you’ll last that long anyway. 

As you drag yourself across the floor, a tingling spreads up your arms and sucks the last of your muscles from them. You come to a stop, whining in horror, but no matter how hard you push yourself your arms simply refuse to follow. It’s like swimming through concrete. 

The phone lies half a meter away, if that. If you could just… If you could just…

Searching deep inside yourself, you find one last hidden reserve of strength. With a moan, you throw yourself at the phone and seize it, even as your limbs turn to smooth black fabric. 

And here, you realize your mistake. 

In your desperation, you’ve missed the obvious: while you’ve got the handset, the numbers are still on the holder. You can’t call anyone without reaching it. 

With this realization, your last ounce of strength leaves you. Releasing the phone, you collapse and lie there panting and sad as your arms crumple like deflating balloons and the split in your groin spreads up through your stomach and your chest, slicing you slowly in half. Five minutes remain, not that it matters anymore. You’re out of options. Defeated. You’ve lost.

As your arms melt into your sides, the change grabs your head and wrenches it backward, making you gasp at the pain. Your mouth, opened to squeal, locks that way, and slowly the blackness and the tingling spread up through your cheeks. A second later, your whole head simply collapses into your neck. 

Lying there, feeling the terrible slicing of your ongoing division, you can only whimper and moan a little. Perhaps, you console yourself, it won’t be too bad. Perhaps being a pair of thigh-high socks will even be nice?

You console yourself with that thought as the change lurches through its last few stages. Inch by inch, you shrivel, shrink, growing skinnier and skinnier. At last, the split reaches your mouth, and with a pop, you separate. You can still feel your other half, despite your separation. It’s strange, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling.

Two red rings stitch themselves into being around your mouths.

The more you think about it, the more enticing your new form seems. Sure, you can't walk and move anymore, but why would you want to anyway? Lying here, utterly inanimate, you’re more comfortable than you’ve ever been in your life. Simply existing is delightful – it’s like being in a sauna. 

The click of a door opening; footsteps, growing closer. Despite your acceptance, you can’t help but flinch. Who is it? Who’s coming for you? 

The clock ticks on, clicking steadily towards zero.

The footsteps continue for several long minutes, receding, returning, growing farther away and then closer, until, at long last…

A familiar figure appears in the door of the kitchen. Looming over you like a giant, she fills you with a sense of endless awe. It’s Suo Sango! She’s finally here! Is she going to wear you? 

“That’s odd,” she says, bending down. “I don’t remember leaving these here.” 

Her touch is orgasmic, better than anything you’ve ever felt. Touch me, Suo! you wish you could cry. Put me on! Put me on! You want to giggle – the thought of being worn by a cute girl like Suo is better than ever your wildest fantasies. It’s all you’ve ever wanted! 

She hauls you to her room, tosses you in a pile with the rest of her socks. Hours pass. Days, maybe. You barely notice – the thought of her wearing you staves away the boredom. 

At last, she returns her attention to you, and when her fingers catch your fabric again, the ecstasy seems even greater than the first time. As she guides her exposed leg towards one of your mouths, you want to squeal and dance in ecstasy. You can’t move, of course, but why would you ever want to move in the first place? You’re just a pair of socks, a cute pair of girly thigh-high socks. Being worn is something natural for you. 

She enters you. Ecstasy overwhelms you. It only grows that much stronger as she slips into your other half. When she finally releases you with a snap of fabric against thigh, you’re reduced to screaming in delight. It’s finally happening! Your dream has come true! 

Suo Sango runs her hand down you, making you shiver in pleasure. She’s so beautiful. You almost wish you could be a beautiful girl like her too.

But then, why would you want to, when you’re so happy as socks?