Author Topic: The Trouble with Pantyhose by anaerobe  (Read 2632 times)

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The Trouble with Pantyhose by anaerobe
« on: January 13, 2016, 02:25:49 PM »
F/m; shrunk; prisoner; boots; pantyhose; rubber; girdle; body adventure; insert; foot; tease; climax; cons/reluct; X

In Her Lair: The Gorgeous Giantess & Her Plaything

The cloudy, cold Thursday morning came far too soon for me; I was rudely awakened from my dreams when Gina shook me out of the boot where she kept me for safekeeping. It was a tall, glossy thick black lacquered rubber rain boot, placed on an upper shelf in her closet, which effectively discouraged me from trying to tip the boot over & escape (the fall would kill me, I reasoned logically). And so I adapted during the last few months as her prisoner, getting almost used to the acrid scent of rubber, glue, & Gina’s foot odor which I endured for endless hours while she worked, partied, or just forgot about me. In all fairness, at least she fed me some leftovers from her plate, provided water, & allowed me the use of a miniature commode & tub twice daily, morning & night.

You see, I had been the victim of a shrinking experiment at the hands of Gina’s ex-roommate, a sort of modern day Gothic-style sorceress, who rendered me 5 mm tall, & in need of full-sized human care & supervision. Gina sort of inherited me when her roommate departed unceremoniously due to arrest for a variety of sordid illegal activities. I basically was payment of the last month’s rent my original owner owed to Gina, & as the weeks elapsed, erotic play & power wielding sessions made the deal worthwhile for Gina, but less so, of course, for me. She delighted in rubbing me over her entire body, inserting me wherever she pleased, confining me in her undergarments, generally using me for her pleasure & letting only her imagination be her limit.

From my perspective, however, the ordeal was getting old, & I had little to do during my long hours of boredom, other than to plot my escape. As long as she kept me on a high shelf or in her grasp, I dared not try to run, fearing a fatal fall. My best hope was to get out of her apartment, into a sheltered indoor environment where I could find food & fluids, & put an end to the abuse I endured at Gina’s hands on a daily basis.

As I settled in to my breakfast this morning on a shelf overlooking Gina’s bedroom & makeup counter, I watched her getting dressed with at least a passing interest. Gina, being the product of Italian & Swedish ancestry, had a strikingly pretty face, riveting green eyes, long flowing blond hair, lightly tanned fair complexion, & a tall, solid, curvaceous body. This build, including rather spectacular definition of her quads & calf muscles, she had told me, was the result of more than a few years of intensive weight training. She made a particular effort to point out the fact that this hobby had strengthened her vagina quite nicely, due to straining & tightening these muscles with every rep, resulting in the equivalent of an intensive long term Kegel exercise program.

As Gina dressed, she skipped the panties, & proceeded directly to a pair of support pantyhose. The reinforced fabric shuddered tightly over her heels, followed by a glistening appearance as she stretched the thick smoky taupe grey nylon over her muscular calves. She smoothed the wrinkles out of the knees & stretched the shimmery nylon over her shapely, powerful thighs, resulting in a sensuously “S” shaped reflection along the back of her upper legs. She then pulled the opaque buttock & “tummy control” panels tightly over her midsection, snapping the thick waistband with a loud “thwack”. Although I was more than a little mesmerized, I glimpsed what I suspected was a circular thinning in one of the reinforced toes.

Into Her Shimmery Prison

Her efforts & my reverie were just then interrupted by the doorbell. “Shit, I’m late & can’t have this”, Gina cursed, as she grabbed a robe, threw it over her shoulders, & almost forgot about me. Her consistent habit, though, was not to leave me alone, as she knew I’d hide from her if I had the chance. She grabbed me on the run, & hurried down the hall, not really with a plan in mind, & with a rushed, distracted grimace, impulsively stretched open the tummy panel & shoved me rudely down the front of the tight undergarment. I heard a loud slap & felt a wall of thick elastic nylon pin me against her firm lower abdomen. I struggled for a time to pull the thick elastic waistband away from her beltline, but I wasn’t even close. My strength was no match for the heavy reinforced elastic barrier, especially as I struggled with my arms above my head.

Gina answered the door to greet Marilyn, her neighbor, apologizing for being half-dressed. “Better be ready for rain by tonight, Gina” Marilyn warned, “There’s a big storm coming in from the coast”. Marilyn handed Gina some mail that had come to her box in error.

“Sure, maybe I’ll throw my rain boots in my bag, so I’ll have them when I leave work. It’s a long walk across the park to the parking lots, when I get out”, Gina countered. “I would really like to wear my new black fashion boots for the whole day indoors, though”, she explained. “Listen, I’ve got to go, it’s late & the traffic’s always a bitch this time of day”.

Gina’s discussion with Marilyn about the finer points of winter footwear, of course, was unintelligible & thus not accessible to me. All I knew was that Gina was rushing quickly back through the house & I was sliding down into her pussy hair with each stride. I could just barely see her shiny black leather skirt cut off visible light over her pelvis, as I heard her zip up the side of the skirt, tightening the grip of the wall of fabric over me. I was now being pressed firmly against her pubic bone by the leather & nylon.

Next, Gina sat on the edge of the bed, & through the pantyhose crotch, I could just make out the outline of her shiny, black leather knee-high dress boots. They had a stylish tapered high heel, about 4 inches in height, enough to accentuate Gina’s strong calves. The top of the boot cuff was especially shiny & smooth, curving gracefully from just below the knee in front to over the upper calf in the back. The leather was high grade, soft, supple & well polished, with 3 pairs of leather straps & steel buckles over the outside of the calf, & a full length zipper along the inside. The bottom of the boot was angulated, placing the sharply pointed toe in a position of 90° extension from the forefoot. “This may be my chance”, I thought, as I plotted an escape through the pantyhose toe hole, up Gina’s ankle, & along the interior fold of the boot shaft zipper. It would be a full day journey & a struggle, but considering the alternative, living in her workplace break room seemed like a pretty appealing prospect.

My Nascent Strategy Smothered

Gina paused before pulling on her boots, though, & focused on me. “I don’t have time to put you away today, little man. Why don’t you come to work with me?” she asked, with a cunning tone. “It’ll be fun! Thursdays are always so boring, don’t you think?” she cooed. “We want to make sure you don’t wander too far, though, don’t we? I really feel like wearing something to make me look slimmer today, anyway”. With that she went back to her dresser & pulled out her secret weapon, a glossy, thick red rubber mid thigh length zippered panty girdle!

Gina enjoyed wearing rubber, & I had been the victim of this dreaded contraption before. Basically, when Gina had used me cruelly as a human dildo, the latex undergarment effectively imprisoned me in her vagina. The only air I had was at the top of her vaginal vault, & escape was impossible, unless I was willing to risk suffocation in addition to crushing from the pressure of the tightness of the girdle in the folds of her groin or buttocks.

She slid the form-fitting latex over her pantyhose. I could see the red rubber rise over me like a curtain & heard the sickening sound of her zipping the waist closed. Gina snapped the latex tightly over the wall of nylon already pressing me against her skin. The black leather skirt next came down, & I was in complete darkness, with what little air surrounding me like a flattened bubble getting more stale by the second. I had no choice; both Gina I knew where I would be headed. I pawed frantically through her pubic hair, pulled violently against her labia, & wriggled up into her vagina, headfirst. Gina complimented me. “That’s a good little boy-toy, you learn quickly, don’t you?”

And so I reached the only refuge I knew under the circumstances. One forceful squeeze from Gina’s vaginal sphincter, & my head was up in her vault, gulping the air pocket I craved, my arms & trunk encased by her vaginal walls, legs forced into an extended position with no room for movement. Her rugae, the horizontal muscular bands of her vaginal walls, gripped my chest like steel barrel hoops; the soft granular surface of the walls conforming to the arc of my calves, thighs, hips, back, & neck with an engulfing embrace. I’d been outsmarted, I silently cursed, thinking I could just kick myself, if I were able to flex my hips & legs that much. Gina, in spite of her casual, impulsive nature, had won again, & I had to resign myself to once more being cruelly cunted in her womanhood.

The problem, though, was that my previous predicaments had only lasted 15, maybe 30 minutes at a time, as Gina had been too impatient to postpone having a masturbation-assisted orgasm with me inside her previously. She’d then release me in the nick of time, just as the meager air supply in her vaginal vault became too thin for my continued survival. What would I do today, confined inside Gina on her way to work, possibly for an entire day? The outlook was disturbingly bleak.

Gina Gives Me A Ride Downtown (That I Won’t Soon Forget)

Our day proceeded. I could feel Gina’s hips press against the flanks of my soft, fleshy prison with each step, as she rushed around the apartment gathering her things. She lurched into the closet, back to the bedroom, searched for her keys, & stepped gingerly out into the garage. She ducked into the driver’s seat of her car, started it up, & began the trip downtown. I could feel the rhythm of her shifts, the left hip flexing with each use of the clutch, the right hip with the gas & brake. I was more or less comfortable for the moment, & had no choice but to endure the process.

Then the mischief started insidiously. Gina had gotten on the freeway, & traffic was moving steadily, so little movement was evident. Then a slight squeeze came from the bottom, so minor that I thought it may not have even been intentional on her part. Then came another, & another, until the rhythm of it became disturbingly familiar. I could feel Gina rocking her pelvis rhythmically, more & more rapidly. The vaginal walls encasing my mid-section then started to contract, & before long the strong rugal bands of her vaginal walls contracted forcefully for a second, then relaxed, also for about a second. Within moments, however, the contractions grew longer, the relaxations shorter, & Gina knowingly or not, was crushing my chest with her sustained, shuddering grip.

Thick, sticky vaginal secretions were rising up around me, initially slowly, then gushing, sloshing over my head. I could hear Gina shout, “Oooohhh, my God!”, then hold her breath as the forceful grip of her vagina made me solidly one with the fleshy innards of her pelvis for what seemed like an eternity. I was encased, head to toe, in muscles as unforgiving as cement! Just when I felt I could withstand no more, she slowly relaxed, & I thanked my lucky stars that I was still alive, although still engulfed in her soft, gooey, flesh.

I can’t imagine Gina was able to drive in rush hour traffic with all this going on. She’d probably pulled into a rest stop for the festivities, I surmised, as I noticed she remained very relaxed for a few moments before I again felt her using first her left hip then her right, as she shifted through the gears & merged back onto the freeway.

For my part, the air available to me was getting mighty thin, & I could not imagine surviving another orgasm with such a surplus of vaginal secretions & so little air, not to mention the crushing force of her extraordinarily well toned vaginal muscles. I remembered that my previous experiences of attempted escape from her latex girdle were unsuccessful. I reasoned, though, that I now had a slight advantage due to the interposed pantyhose material. If the taught nylon kept the tight rubber folds from cutting as deeply into her groin as before, I might be able to pull myself along by the threads of the fabric & slide under the barrier posed by her groin, especially once she started walking.

I could feeling more shifting, slowing, & turning, so I knew my chance was coming. Gina pulled into a parking space, turned the engine off, & opened the door. She grabbed her bags from the passenger seat, swiveled her legs out the driver’s door, & stood up slowly. I could hear the click of her heeled boots on the pavement, then the sidewalk, rhythmically jarring me down, slowly out of her now relaxed privates. I figured she must now be in a relatively public place, where she couldn’t gracefully push me back inside or away from her groin, so I made my move!

Our Day At The Office Begins

The contortions necessary to negotiate Gina’s labia under the tight pantyhose & girdle were painful, especially after my ordeal of confinement in her pussy, but I imagined the smell of freedom had somehow penetrated the dank odor of her crotch. With each of her steps, as she extended her hip & stepped off her right foot, the nylon stretched, & the rubber girdle fold was lifted off her skin momentarily. My feet were entangled in her pubic hair, so the process was tedious: unwind hair from my feet, wait for her right heel to click on the sidewalk, then pull myself a millimeter or two closer to her groin; repeat serially.

Finally, the pubic hair relinquished its curly grip on my legs, & my head & neck were under the girdle’s wrinkled fold in her groin. Gina had stopped walking, so I waited. The elevator ride seemed to take forever, but she again began walking, & I inched under the barrier. I was about halfway through, headed sideways & almost upside down, with the thick rubber fold over my mid-section, when I felt Gina sit down, probably at her desk. She crossed her legs tightly, & I had been stopped dead in my tracks, the support hose fold in her groin being even tighter & tougher to lift than the latex wrinkle. I was stuck, & began contemplating gangrene of the entire lower half of my body.

Gina was rubbing her hand over her right groin, where she felt I was trapped, trying inconspicuously to massage me back into her crotch. She said nothing, though, which I took to mean she couldn’t very well be caught telling an unseen visitor to get back in her pussy, at least not in public. The wait for Gina to stand again was excruciating, but finally I heard a male voice talking with her, she agreed to do something he’d requested, & she stood up, taking a few short steps sideways. That’s all I needed, & I slid my lower body & legs out from under the groin fold of the hose & the killer rubber girdle!

Of course, as she stood still for some time at the copy machine, I was still quite firmly pinned down under the thick reinforced panty portion of her hose, the overlying, suffocating tight latex girdle leg, & of course, the weight of the top layer, her black leather skirt. I waited, & then took advantage of every step that stretched the nylon as her right thigh passed behind her. Gravity helped, & slowly I approached the edge of the girdle. Pulling myself down the front of her upper thigh, my head emerged, & I could at least breathe through the support hose fabric, though much in the dark under her skirt.

Gina stood still again for several moments, talking, & tried to flex her quads forcefully to tighten the girdle’s grip on my abdomen & legs, but she had to relent & walk back to her desk. I took the opportunity to slither down onto the front of her thigh, feeling triumphant although the hose still pressed me deeply into the soft flesh as she sat down at her desk, crossed her right leg over the left, & rhythmically bounced her right calf against her left knee. She knew this was tightening the nylon over me, preventing any further progress for now.

We spent quite some time at her desk, where Gina almost constantly scraped her long red fingernail over my nylon prison on the front of her thigh, aiming back towards her groin, in an effort to thwart my downward progress. It must have been somewhat noticeable, as I heard a co-worker who was just passing by ask, “Got an itch?” This seemed to inhibit Gina a little, & she slowed down her scratching to avoid attracting attention, only blocking my efforts to work my way down to her knee now & again when the whim struck her.

The Endless Lunch Meeting

When Gina stood & walked into an adjacent room, I slid down more easily, now all the way to the center of her right kneecap, until she sat down & crossed her right leg over her left knee. She appeared to be in some kind of group meeting, involving 6 or 8 people sitting on similar chairs, all facing the center of the room. I figured this arrangement would be advantageous for me, as Gina would again have to avoid drawing attention to my predicament by scratching or pushing me around in her pantyhose in plain view of her co-workers. What I didn’t anticipate, though, was the leg bobbing that started almost immediately. I knew Gina well enough to know she was using it to tighten the nylon over her kneecap, flattening me mercilessly over her very shapely, attractive knee.

With every flexing of her leg, I felt as if I was being strained through the sharp nylon fibers, painfully squashed against firm flesh on the bony surface. When she tired of this, she switched legs, & I was buried from above by the back of her left calf, bobbing & crushing me against the most beautiful kneecap ever. The meeting droned on endlessly, with Gina alternately crushing me on her kneecap with the tight, thick nylon, then tightly pressing me between it & the back of her left calf. The ultimate ordeal, though, came long into the meeting, when Gina squatted over a spreadsheet on the floor, flexing her knees completely, calves against the back of her thighs, & just expressing all air out of me by squeezing me supertightly between her knee & the overstretched nylon hose.

This process was wearing me down rapidly; I knew I couldn’t endure much more. I made a quick executive decision, based on the assumption that suffering 50% less by opting for being crushed by her calf, instead of both the crushing & straining treatment, would be an improvement. If I could just get to the back of her knee, at least half the time, I would be pressed against her calf, but more or less free to continue my descent into her boot when Gina’s left leg was crossed over the right. Taking advantage of the brief interlude when her legs were uncrossed, I slid sideways onto the inside of Gina’s right knee. Another break in the pressure, & I accomplished another slide towards the back of the inside of her knee. A third, & I was squarely over the back of her knee, as planned.

An unforeseen obstacle to my plan had arisen due to my misdirected efforts, however. I hadn’t aimed my crawl to bring me onto her calf, but instead to the middle of the back of her knee. How dumb was that? Why didn’t I just settle for a position over the inside of her knee, & plan to descend further onto the inside of her calf? Now I had to cope with being on the back of her knee, an unexpectedly disadvantageous location. Directly blocking my progress down to the next goal was a thick rope-like band made by the fold of her support hose created by the 90° angle of her knee. Before I could correct my overdone efforts, she squatted over the spreadsheet again, & I was really trapped now! No air, the full pressure of her thigh & calf surrounding me, I was impossibly helpless. How long could even the most fit woman squat? It seemed like forever. Finally, she stood, the nylon relaxed & let me slide, barely breathing, still inside her snug support hose, but now down over the top of her calf.

Into Her Boot

After a brief rest, knowing I didn’t have all day, I worked my way lower & lower, my feet now resting on the upper edge of her right boot shaft. I held my breath, pulled up on the nylon fibers on either side of my knees, & took the big plunge down the back of her calf, inside her shiny black leather boot. The air was stale, & a light sweat covered the surface of the skin of her calf. Gina now was up & walking; the considerable mass of her calf muscles now pressed me up against the band-like upper boot shaft leather lining with each step. I could hear the click of each heel strike, followed by the forceful contraction of Gina’s calf muscles, & the crushing tightness of the back of her leather boot shaft.

Gina finally sat down again, allowing some quicker progress down the back of her calf, assisted, however unpleasantly, by increasing amounts of the sticky perspiration over her lower calf. This time though, I was aiming for the inside of Gina’s ankle, as ending up smothered by nylon on the wrong side of a bony prominence inside her tightly fitting stylish boot would not be good. I maneuvered to the inside of her Achilles’ tendon. The hose was luckily looser here, & a sense of victory came over me as I realized I had passed the danger of becoming trapped over the bony surface of her heel. The next step (so to speak) involved crawling under the arch of her foot. This proved to be kind of tricky, though, due to the slippery surface of the nylon, now saturated with large amounts of sweat. I worked my way along, sensing the bobbing of her foot that gave me a false sense of security from a crushing defeat against the sole of her boot.

Suddenly, the enormous weight over the sweaty arch of her foot came down on me with more force & pressure than I could ever imagine, & I knew what she was up to. Did she plan this overwhelming use of force? I know Gina, & I know she did. All I could do was work my way down toward the ball of her foot with each release of her weight on me, knowing that the greatest challenge was ahead of me, under the ball of her foot, where the high heeled boots forced her to exert the greatest pressure. Unfortunately, gravity & sweat were on her side. I slid more & more rapidly down the arch of her foot, inside the dark, dank, sharply angulated dress boot, & within moments, I was under the ball of her foot, awaiting certain doom.

Gina must have been unaware of this, or she chose not to take advantage of my exquisitely vulnerable position. She unweighted the right foot, & felt myself bobbing again, up & down rhythmically, as she sat at her desk once again. I couldn’t let the opportunity to resolve my predicament pass, so I seized the moment, pulled myself along the nylon fibers of her hose down toward her toes, & arrived over the welcome landmark of the reinforced toe design, between but under her second & great toes. I had finally arrived in the toe of Gina’s panty hose!

My euphoria was short-lived, however. I was now confined in a more or less airless, completely dark, damp, hot leather & nylon prison. The stench of Gina’s sweaty foot was horrific. My situation was still far from ideal. It was time to move on to the next phase of the plan. I inched forward between her toes, thwarted by the squeezing of her toes closer together with each step she made in the tapered forefoot of her stylish high-heeled boots. As I grew closer to the end of her toes, I groped for the inner surface of the nylon I expected to find stretched over the end of her foot. By patiently using each of her unweighting step offs as my cue, I advanced under her toes & felt the welcome wall of nylon. To my dismay, though, it was solid, no two ways about it!

Self Doubt In The Dark

A cloud of desperate doom descended over me. I’d come so far, but had I mistakenly worked myself all the way down the wrong leg? Was the hole I’d seen been in the right toe, or the left? Left, or right? Hemmed in on all sides by sweat, Gina’s toes, nylon, & leather, all I could do was ask myself a hundred times, was it the right toe, or the left? Thinking I’d reached the end of the line, a crushing defeat, I absentmindedly pawed around blindly over the web of nylon on the end of her toes, knowing not what else to do. A curious discovery emerged from this random motion. The apparently solid nylon I had initially felt was actually a discoid, relatively pliable elastic mesh, surrounded by thicker, much more resistant fabric. What I had seen this morning was a partial thickness defect! This realization buoyed my spirits, & I set to work trying to break through this single layer of nylon, alternately tearing a fiber or two with great effort, biting a few, then tearing again. I was confident I could break through with enough perseverance.

Finally, a small hole in the mesh could be felt. With stretching & pulling, I got my head & neck through, then my arms & shoulders. I was on the verge of a release from the pantyhose prison, the tight nylon encircling my waist, when I heard a zipping, grinding sound. It grew louder & louder; I realized it was Gina unzipping the shaft of the boot. Suddenly, a whoosh of air, a feeling of suction, then shockingly bright light, & I was dangling freely from the end of her pantyhose toe. I looked down into the deep, steeply angulated sweat-dappled sole of the leather prison as it receded away below me.

Gina’s Unexpected Boot & Switch

My enjoyment of fresh air & the promise of freedom was not fated to last long, however. Gina was talking to a co-worker about the storm building outside, cheerfully saying she was prepared. Within seconds, I could again clearly see the all too familiar but most unforgiving tool of my imprisonment. It was the glossy, tall black pair of rain boots I so hated, for they offered no hope of escape. How did those boots get here, in Gina’s office? I, along with Gina’s sweaty foot, was plunged down the shaft of the rubber boot, slid forward into the toe, & heard the nauseating whoosh of air displaced by her heel escaping through the top of the boot as she pulled the shaft sharply up. Gina’s muscular calf more than filled up the cuff of the boot, stretching it to form an airtight seal at the top, but she tightened the rubber strap through the steel buckle on the outside of the upper boot shaft just to be sure.

From the first instant when Gina stood up, I was more than motivated to avoid letting her toes use me as a battering ram against the rough inner lining of the toe of her thick rubber rain boot. Struggling out of the nylon noose around my waist, I wriggled over to the top of Gina’s toes, as the more ample space in the toebox of the boot allowed me to avoid becoming trapped again under her toes & potentially crushed under the ball of her foot. Then I crawled up her instep, again using the fibers of her hose, but this time, from outside the elastic prison encasing her foot. I tried frantically to climb up the inside of the shaft, using her instep as a stepping off point, but to no avail, as the vertical edge of fabric & the inner surface of the zipper I’d been counting on in her dress boots was nowhere to be found. The outer surface of her ankle, up against the rough cotton lining of the outer side of her rubber boot was no easier; I just couldn’t gain traction.

A Long Ride Home

Exhausted, with no exit plan, I settled in along the inside of the arch of Gina’s foot, sweaty & smooth though it was, as she waited for the elevator & stepped out of the building. She splashed through the puddles in the park with the abandon of a schoolgirl, & I was forced to vacate the space under her arch, for fear of being crushed under her tremendous weight. I resigned myself to settling again into the toebox of her boot, curled over the front of her toes, sucking what little stinky air she’d allowed me.

Gina got into her car, drove out onto the freeway, & flexed her toes madly to press me forcefully against the stiff, unforgiving rubber boot upper every chance she got. “Guess I’ve got you where I want you, now, don’t I, little guy?, she taunted me in the privacy of her car. “Did you have a good day at the office? Let’s take the long way home, OK?” she chortled loudly now that no one could hear. Needless to say, it was a long ride home to the prison complex that was Gina’s apartment.

Marilyn was at the mailbox as Gina pulled up. “How’d those rain boots work for you today, Gina?” she asked. “Just fine, Marilyn. In fact, better than expected” replied Gina with a mischievous grin.
« Last Edit: February 19, 2016, 03:53:59 AM by Gromet »

 

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