Underwear Story

by

Nemo

Gerry's not religious about it, but he likes the gym and tries to get there every day.

His ex-girlfriend Mira used to say: "What the hell do you go there for? It's boring and it's painful. Why torture yourself?" Gerry would agree with her, but he found himself spending more time there and less with her.

Gerry doesn't mind the boredom and the pain. It's the routine of it; the same, dumpy old building, the smell, the few guys he sees on a regular basis who say, Hi, how ya doing?

And then there are the girls.

Yes, girls. They're everywhere. While Gerry does his thing on the machines, the girls, old, young, fat, thin, curvy or not curvy are all around, at the next machine, over there stretching on the floor, bending to get a drink at the water bubbler. But Gerry's favorite sight of all is aerobics class.

The main floor, just next to the area where Gerry works out, is a huge room with polished floors where aerobics is held. And it's mostly women. From out there, they don't see Gerry checking them out; looking at their shorts, tee shirts covering sports bras, and wonderfully bare legs as they work out. A forest of nice-looking women, sweating it out to music in a world of their own.

Gerry does not join them, oh no. His knees can't take that kind of stress. But the girls look like they can do it all day and night. It's almost like dancing, the bodies move in a hypnotic way. Gerry's happy to be hypnotized, apart from them.

Tonight, at just around 5:30, Gerry's on the rowing machine that looks out onto the 5 o'clock aerobics class. He sees the instructor. She's a beauty with long blond hair and a sensational figure. He sees the flock of women watching her and trying to do as she tells them over the thumping music. His keen eye narrows them down until he sees one who is performing every movement just right. Gerry's impressed. He sees her face. Impressed. Her body, hair, limbs, all nicely connected in an attractive, pleasing package.

Gerry, still rowing away, can't take his eyes off her. She looks Asian but he can't be sure. He is sure that he likes her legs best, the way they magically curve into her butt and crotch. Tight black shorts accentuate the curves, and as she moves, Gerry lets his mind drift. He wonders what it would be like...

But then, Gerry's had these thoughts for years now. He once tried one out on Mira. She inadvertently sat on his hand, after which Gerry made it into a little puppet. "Oh nooo," Gerry made his hand say in a high-pitched voice. "Mira sat on meeeeee."

Mira had no time for this nonsense. "You can stop THAT right now!" she said, eliminating the fun in a single swipe.

After that, Gerry made a mental note not to share his long-held fantasies.

But they are still his. Gerry is looking at Asian Girl and getting more turned on by the minute. Wouldn't it be cool to be her underwear for a while? She wouldn't know a thing about it, but he would, wrapped around her perfect butt, elegant, solid thighs, the mound of womanhood between her legs. Yes, he wants to be her underwear. That's Gerry's idea of heaven.

Some guy that Gerry's never seen before sidles up to the rowing machine. He glances at Gerry, and just loud enough for Gerry to hear, says in a friendly voice, "Bet you'd like to be HER underwear." The stranger looks at Asian Girl and back to Gerry.

Gerry stops rowing. He looks at the guy. Odd-looking: thin and wearing a kind of stretchy outfit that you don't see too often on men. He's got a goatee and a strange haircut with tufts of hair like horns rising from each side of his head. The smile is vaguely familiar.

"Devlin's the name," says the stranger, holding out a hand.

Gerry takes it, slowly. "Gerry."

"Ah. Good to meet you." says Devlin. Gerry doesn't wonder if Devlin's his first or his last name, but does wonder how the hell this guy can read his mind.

"Um," says Gerry. "What did you say about underwear?"

Devlin flashes a conspiratorial smile. "I think you heard me all right."

Gerry doesn't speak, but just stares at Devlin. Devlin says, "You want to be her underwear. Asian Girl's. You know you do. But here's something you don't know." Devlin pauses and looks directly at Gerry. "I can make it happen."

Gerry makes a dismissive sound, like yeah, right; sure you can, stranger.

"Actually," Devlin continues, "I can do better than that. I can put you right inside her underwear. Your arms and legs stitched in, for safety. But you'd feel everything, believe me. You get the sights, the fragrance, the FEEL of being up close to her most private area. It's an experience you won't forget, my friend. So. What do you think?"

"I think," says Gerry, "you oughta get your head examined." Gerry gets off the machine and reaches for a spray bottle and towel. He wants to wipe down his machine and get away. Scary nut job, he thinks.

Devlin makes one more try. "Tell you what, Gerry. I have to leave. You stay here and work out for awhile. At exactly 6:15, start walking towards the locker rooms. When you get to that dark place in the hallway, just think about accepting my offer. Then leave the rest to me."

Devlin gives a quick, amiable nod, then starts off before Gerry can say a word. The stranger is lost among the machines and seems to vaporize before Gerry's eyes. "Damn," says Gerry out loud. Then he finds a spare treadmill and looks out on the main floor.

Asian Girl is still there, her movements pure poetry. He admires her pretty face, her swinging ponytail tied back and away from her sweating back and neck. Her perfect posterior. He wants to be there. From the distant past he remember a rock and roll tune with an unusual lyric:


I wanna be the itch that you scratch
wanna by your chair when your relax
I got to be your razor when you shave
wanna be the habit that really makes you crave

I just wanna be right there
more than anything I swear
I wanna be... your underwear


Much later he's still thinking about it. Towel around his neck, he absentmindedly walks down the hall in the direction of the locker rooms - men to the right, women to the left. Gerry veers right. No one's around. He approaches that dark area where an overhead light has burned out. He sings, just under his breath, the words to the strange tune that seems hardwired in his brain:

"I wanna be...her underwear"

Suddenly, Gerry blacks out. He's aware of the blackness though, and wonders what's happening. He feels fine but can't see a damn thing. Is he dead?

Then he decides he's lying down on something soft. He tries to move, but can't. Something is holding down his arms and legs. What the hell...what the friggin' hell? In the dark, muffled female voices seep into his world. They sound loud, harsh, like a race of giants.

A metallic clang announces the opening of a door and light pours in. Gerry shuts his eyes, then squints up at the light source. The powerful smell of sweat pervades his senses. He thinks he sees an enormous girl through the gauzy material he's trapped in. A huge hand reaches for the material and pulls Gerry along.

Oh my God, Gerry thinks. It's Asian Girl, and I'm in her underwear.

Gerry's not prepared for what comes next. The girl takes the panties by the waistband and opens them wide. Gerry has a clear view now. The girl is stark naked. Freshly showered, she stands, readying the panties to be stepped in. She lifts one, impossibly long leg, and then...

The foot and leg slides past Gerry. Then the other foot and leg. Then the two hands begin to pull upward. Gerry tries not to stare at the hair-covered crotch, the fruit-like buns, the massive thighs. But he can't take his eyes away. After an adjustment or two by the giant, Gerry is suspended, hung up in the cloth directly opposite her vagina.

Even clean and showered, the proximity and size of Asian Girl's privates sets Gerry's mind reeling. The aroma nearly overpowers Gerry. When she puts her jeans on, things become darker but he can still see well enough. He's close enough to reach out and touch her if he wants.

Questions race through his mind. Does she know I'm here? What if she finds me? What if I touch her and she decides to scratch? What if...oh, God...what if she rides a bike?

Gerry keeps quiet. The hum of female voices in the locker room fade away as the girl walks out and enters the reception area. The girl speaks for the first time. "Goodnight," she says to someone at the front desk.

"Goodnight, Carrie," the front desk person says back.

Carrie, the tiny man in her underwear thinks. Her name is Carrie.


The car ride home, the quick dinner, the usual everyday stuff. Carrie does it all while Gerry rides. He's not used to the motion just yet and is startled as the girl jumps to her feet, and minutes later, plops down again. She talks to no one. Must live alone, Gerry thinks. And just when Gerry starts to settle down, Carrie needs a bathroom break.

Gerry's world becomes an unnaturally bright place again as Carrie slips off her panties to the edge of her knees. She sits; Gerry can now see her face. It's lovely, not really Asian at all, but lovely all the same. Dark brown hair, no longer held prisoner but flowing about her shoulders. Pretty eyes, cute eyebrows, straight nose.

Gerry can hear but not see the hissing jet of water the giantess sends into the toilet bowl. She quickly dabs herself with some paper, and before Gerry knows it, he's pulled back to her again. Somehow his fantasy hadn't taken this into account, but it wasn't so bad.

Gerry decides that Carrie does live alone; she rounds out her night with popcorn and her favorite TV shows. At one point, she alarms her tiny stowaway by setting the popcorn bowl on him as she reclines, laughing and munching her snack. He impulsively yells out. "Hey! Get that thing of me, will ya?" Then he realizes that maybe he shouldn't have. Carrie might not like finding a hitchhiker in her panties, and Gerry wasn't taking chances.

But there is no reaction from the giant girl and eventually the bowl shifts away from Gerry.

Gerry figures it's been a few hours since his transformation at the gym, and Carrie might be going to bed soon. Maybe she'll see Gerry stitched into her unmentionables, maybe she'll get him out of there.

Bedtime comes, but Carrie leaves her panties on. Gerry hears her breathing grow heavy, but with a faceful of pubic hair and her intense body heat, he can't fall asleep himself.

A new, otherworldly light now illuminates Gerry's pantyworld. The face of Devlin hovers just off to Gerry's side. Then the rest of him appears. He's about Gerry's size. He just hangs in space, casually resting a hand on Carrie's monstrous bush. His grin is unmistakable.

Gerry can't believe it. "Devlin! How did you...what did...never mind. Just get me out!"

Devlin's grin grows wider. "How's it going, Gerry? All settled in? It is what you expected? Rather nice accommodations, if you ask me. I should be charging you rent."

"You bastard! I want outta here. I've had enough. What if this broad finds me? There's no telling what she might do."

Devlin raises an comical eyebrow. "Do? She won't do a thing. Even if she held you to her eyeballs, she couldn't see you. Can't hear you either. That's what makes it fun. So stop worrying."

"Listen, Devlin," Gerry begins in a low, dangerous voice, but suddenly a weird electronic tune plays: it's Smoke on the Water. Devlin's cell phone.

Devlin pulls it out and says, "Yes?" He listens intently. Then he puts the phone away and looks at Gerry.

"Hey, I gotta go. But you enjoy your night with this gorgeous creature. And I wish you good luck tomorrow."

Gerry's eyes narrow. "You better not leave. And - wait! What about tomorrow? What do you mean?"

But Devlin is gone, his light gone with him.

Well past midnight, Gerry finally falls asleep.

He wakes up the next day in the dark. No idea what time it is. He's still stitched inside panties, but they're not Carrie's. These panties have a different smell. Because they belong to a different woman.

In a few minutes, she's going to open the locker door and Gerry's going to see her: the giantess he's going home with tonight.