I stretched in my seat, eyes closed in self-administered chiropractic bliss as my fatigue dissipated in five… no, six pops across my spine. I cocked my head and rolled my shoulders, relishing the tingly afterglow that was left behind. Rolling my shut eyes in their sockets, I allowed myself the amusement of realizing how much I was like a machine resetting its hardware after a long session of usage.

The notepad had grown too long. It was supposed to be a short, smutty story. There wasn’t really supposed to be any plot, or three act structure, or character development… just a girl, a suit, and a bunch of sexy words to join them all together. No more than one chapter, I’d said.

Well… I guess my folly was deciding to plan it. When you lay the whole thing out you forget to go with the flow, and before you know it you see all the plot holes and dangly bits hanging around. Then you go and tie one of them up and it creates three more. You tie those up and then before you know it you’ve got a whole outfit of knots tied together. It’s… a thing of beauty in some ways. There’s no satisfaction like knowing every plot point just fits together. But, now my one-chapter smut piece had become a gargantuan project that demanded hours of work. I’d probably start it, get excited about it, get busy about work, forget to continue it, lose steam, forget the excitement, get distracted… and then there’d be nothing.

So I closed the notepad. I saved it first, but then I closed it. The project would have to be put on hold.

Sigh.

Maybe sometimes you just need smut. It really doesn’t need to make sense. Maybe sometimes there doesn’t need to be an engaging world to get into. Maybe sometimes there doesn’t need to be a fleshed out character with strengths, flaws, hopes, dreams, wants/needs, or conflicts and bonds. Maybe sometimes logic doesn’t even matter...

I put the lid of my laptop down and turned the lights low and willed two pieces of fabric into existence on my bed behind me.

Maybe sometimes you just need to write.

I swiveled around in my chair and inspected the two garments that I’d created. They had been neatly folded into two identically-sized squares, placed exactly half a foot apart from each other. If you used a laser-measure you’d find that their edges were aligned perfectly straight – a byproduct of my subconscious OCPD.

I already knew what they were and what they’d do, because I’d created them. But for the sake of the story and for the reader’s benefit, I chose to forget; instead lifting and unfolding each garment in turn. Both garments took the shape of pantyhose, devoid of seams. The first was spun of sheer black microfiber, and the second was spun of a pastel purple, wetlook spandex/lycra-type material.

A small glass vial materialized on the bed where it would’ve been perfectly between each garment had I not moved them. Within it was contained a dense, black substance that seemed liquid-like. ‘THIS ONE LAST’ was written along the vial in cyan sharpie.

I decided that I would be naked, and devoid of body hair, and it was so. Shaving was too much of a hassle anyway, and I felt the detour of a shaving scene might take too long and dilute the mood.

I took a brief moment to look around the room, checking just one last time to see if I had forgotten any element of the story before allowing things to begin. A pair of scissors on the table. That wouldn’t do. I poofed it away. Another scan…

It seemed clear. I briefly wondered what kind of a person I would like to be this time. Maybe something athletic… like a skater.

A pair of inline skates materialized by the door. Seba High Lights, so you knew they were serious. I spawned a mess of sweaty clothes and skate gear around me, before resetting the featured garments to their folded state on the bed.

I wrapped myself in a newly materialized white towel, and sat myself on the floor, resting my head on my bed. I took a deep breath and whispered, ‘Focus set, frame…’

‘…and action.’

 

---

 

Hana stirred awake. As her reality flooded back in around her she struggled to shake off the remnants of her dream. She could’ve sworn she was trying to climb into a frog, for whatever reason. Dreams were weird, but as the real world flooded in around her, the thread that remained from her slumber quickly discorporated into the realm of fiction, outside of her capacity of memory.

The smell of sweat mingled with the smell of fresh laundry and she looked down at her clothes strewn across the floor. She must have fallen asleep after her shower yet again. She shivered slightly against the cold, and tightened her towel’s embrace around her as she stood. She kicked her clothes into a corner near her trusty skates, and her muscles began to throb sore – a souvenir left over from the rigors of learning to perform a Magic slide.

But at least she’d done it.

Hana allowed the self-accomplishment to warm her from within. She turned her attention to her couch, but her pajamas weren’t there.

Strange, she thought. They were always there.

She spun around and her face twisted into a look of confusion. Two garments sat side by side on her bed, with a vial of liquid placed neatly between them. She struggled to comprehend the wrinkle in her reality for a brief moment, before reaching out to inspect them further.

She picked up the vial first – it seemed to be filled with a strange, glossy black goop. The words, ‘THIS ONE LAST’ had been scrawled across the glass in bright blue marker reminiscent of Spider-Gwen’s shoes.

Hana popped the vial open and gave it a sniff…

…odorless.

She capped the vial and turned her attention to the other two articles that had found their way on to her bed.

They unfolded into two pairs of pantyhose – one seemed to be made of a seamless piece of sheer black microfiber, whilst the other was formed of a wetlook purple spandex that caught the light and shimmered in an almost liquid-like fashion.

Hana could not recall ever owning anything like these. Living in a warm, humid environment, her wardrobe had always gravitated toward looser, airier clothing. She brought them up to her nose and inhaled.

…they smelled clean. Like fresh laundry.

She found herself wondering how she’d look in them.

The thought felt foreign. Fashion was never really her care. And yet the stockings seemed so… alluring. They were soft, stretchy, and silky to the touch. They smelt… strangely sweet, and she was almost certain they’d wrap beautifully around her skater-slim legs.

The towel fell to the floor.

She was already naked anyway.

Hana set the purple legging aside and instead turned her focus on to the sheer pantyhose. She seated herself down on the bed and held the material open before her. It stretched very easily, but as she dipped her toe into its narrow legs, the fabric seemed to collapse around her skin. The weave of the microfiber gently tickled her like a soft staticky fuzz.

She rolled onto her tailbone and lowered her other leg into its sleeve. Slowly, the tube of spandex encased both calves. Her toes found themselves at the end of the line seemingly of their own accord, and her heart fluttered at the idea that the tunnel of fabric she had entered had no exit at the other end.

The only way out of the tunnel began to slide its way up her thighs. Her hands seemed to merely guide the fabric along, instead of pulling it like her brain had expected. As the pantyhose climbed around her it pulled against her toes, stretching narrower and tighter as it went along.

Hana gasped as the cold fabric wrapped around her crotch. The fibers of the material slid against her sex in a way that was simultaneously arousing and ticklish, with just a touch of roughness to scratch at her brain’s pleasure centers. The fabric wrapped around her hips, and then her waist, and she propped herself up with her hands behind her back.

Hana blinked in a stunned daze – if she’d known pantyhoses felt so good to wear, she’d have filled her wardrobe with them long ago. The smooth-yet-mildly-abrasive surface of the fabric slid across her like an army of feathers tickling her skin with every twitch of her body. It clung to her body tightly, with just enough pressure to keep her feeling sexy and aroused, but not so much that it became overly intense. It was the perfect balance.

She let out a soft moan as the fabric brushed against her pert nipples, which had become stiff either from the cold or from her excitement.

 

Wait.

 

Hana turned her attention to her body – pantyhoses didn’t ‘brush against nipples’ – and yet… the girl’s heart quickened. The fabric of the pantyhose continued to climb across her skin with the soft sound of rustling silk as it stretched to allow its only exit to continue closing around its occupant. Like a million fingers lightly drawing circles around her skin, Hana writhed against the embrace of the pantyhose as it continued to wrap around her arms and form itself into perfectly-fit gloves around her fingers. She pulled at the steady advance of silky microfiber but it merely stretched with her tug, neither slowing nor ceasing its encasement. The material collapsed around her neck, and climbed across her face, before meeting itself at the top of her head, twisting into a seamless, continuous and infinite loop of fabric that encased her tightly.

The microfiber continued to glide across her as it shrank, pulling tighter and tighter across her features. She could feel the material stretch translucent as it pulled tightly between her legs and tented into her gaping mouth. She bucked her hips away from the material but it clung to her perfectly, refusing to leave the immediate vicinity of her body.

She reached to glide her hands across her body, first to search for a seam, zipper, or any means to release herself from the sensual embrace of the suit that cladded her, but she quickly lost her way. Her gloved hands slid across her silky second skin, sending warm jolts of static across her nerves as she explored her body as if she had been newly granted one. Any thoughts of searching for scissors or escape melted into nothingness as she ran her hands up and down.

A jolt of movement caught her attention from somewhere beside her and her vision turned purple for a brief second before being engulfed in a noisy darkness.

Her ears filled with the waterfall rush of spandex-rubbing-against-spandex as two tubes of lycra wrapped themselves around her arms. Hana mmfed against her restraints partly out of resistance, but mostly out of pleasure as the second layer of pantyhose descended around her from above.

Stripped of her sight, Hana writhed more for her own pleasure than for any attempt to escape. The waist of the pantyhose tightened around hers as its feet molded into gloves around her hands. It continued to make its way down her hips, eliciting a moan as it reached underneath her crotch, wrapped around her sex and pulled tight.

The second suit was far more aggressive, and it had completely swallowed the girl in half the time. It continued to tighten and squeeze the girl within as it shrank, and Hana found herself riding against the crotch of the suit. She didn’t know if she moved to seek freedom or pleasure but she knew that the movements pleased her. Stars sparked in the corners of her vision as she continued to writhe against the ceaseless grip of the suit around her sex. No position offered her relief from the stimulation and every move to escape it heightened her arousal.

Hana let out a long, drawn out moan as the pleasure continued to build, and with it a frustrating desire for release. She became incapable of any rational thought apart from the burning sex that threatened to burst forth from every pore of her body. The sound of glass shattering was lost to the noise of spandex gliding against spandex and Hana mistook the warmth of liquid latex permeating the two suits that encased her as raw liquid pleasure.

The black liquid expanded exponentially as it grew to encase the girl that writhed. Hana could feel the airiness of the suit quickly become replaced with an oily wetness. Where the suit once tented and slid across her body, it began to stick to her in a wet vacuum, allowing her body to slide within itself without allowing her to leave its rubbery grasp. The suit's tickling became a slippery embrace, first around the waist before spreading across the rest of her body. It rubbed against her skin and touched every nerve simultaneously as it gradually encased the writhing figure in black rubber.

And then the dam broke.

 

Colors permeated the darkness of the girl's vision as streaks of bright light drew erratic fractal patterns in her subconscious mind. Every pore of her body oozed sex as she drove her body against the airtight cladding of spandex-strengthened rubber. The contractions of her muscles spread out across her entire body and her back arched and her toes curled and her eyes shut and her mouth gaped and stars collapsed into brilliant supernovas in her mind, rippling across her body in great waves.

The girl crumpled into a spent heap as the liquid latex fully encased her body, leaving only a small hole in the nose to allow her to breathe. The rise and fall of her chest slowed and she drifted into a deep slumber.

 

---

 

The sparks came back first.

 

 

 

Tiny points of light dancing in slow, loopy circles.

 

 

 

My eyelids were heavy.

Memory was foggy at best.

A painful numbness jabbed at my brain. The suit rode high in the crotch.

My fingers ached against the tightness of the glove, and my big toe had gone numb.

 

 

 

I need to pee.

 

 

 

I procrastinated on sitting up for a few moments.

 

 

 

 

 

The suit pulled me in a painful way that needed correcting urgently.

 

I grimaced. Real life needed aftercare.

I pulled myself up as Hana faded into the endless oblivion of forever known as the internet. Gone were her skates and sweaty clothes and all that remained was me in my suit in my bedroom.

I struck a nearby light and began to free my body and my mind from the remnants of my dreams.

The suit was well oiled and came off easily. But the rush of blood that followed after tingled violently in my extremities.

An old towel gave its best effort to remove the oil from my skin before my pajamas came on. I pulled on a pair of socks to protect the rest of the house from my oily feet before leaving to relieve myself.

Outside, sunlight bounced off of the clouds from an unseen vantage point far beyond the horizon.

 

                                       

If I slept now I’d still get thee hours.