Part III 

“Could someone please explain to me why exactly I care for this girl?”
I am sweating like a pig in the afternoon’s heat. My back is all wet and slimy. I feel like a wriggling slug. I can’t see much but the motion of the vast curtain in front of me: large motifs of butterflies, blue and red on a white background, coming and going.  Very trendy. Very chic. She’s wearing her best today.
I remember when she bought that mini-skirt, in this horrid little shop in the mountains. It was the most garish piece of clothing in the place: I knew she’d have to have it. Now I look at it fixedly, as it flies away from my face and then comes back with a vast rustling sound. On it goes, back it comes.

My nose is itching too. I wish I could scratch a bit with my hand, but my hands are somewhere around, stuck against Noeleen’s hot skin. It’s all right; I can still scratch my face against the hard nylon that covers it  (and my body). Now. That’s better. 
The motion is suddenly accelerating. I hear the loud noises outside. Cars are passing by. Honking. We must be at an intersection. The sudden shuffling and hardening in my back tells me Noeleen is trotting to go across the street. I feel her thigh muscles tensing and relaxing all around my body. The curtain of her mini-dress is my only horizon. But if I really push hard forward and then look down through the gauze, I can get a glimpse of the impossibly long leg I’m stuck onto, and every second, on my right, I can watch an enormous thigh passing by, and then receding in a rustle of nylon.

One hour ago:

“Noeleen, are you’re aware of the Geneva Convention?”
The giant face is frowning at me; a sultry look comes and goes in a flash, while a determined smile replaces it. “Please, pretty please, you said you’d agree!!” She’s also very excited and I watch in awe, perched on the edge of the desk, as her massive frame passes by. The tremors of her movements are shaking me, and I grip the wooden edge I’m sitting on. (The void under me is quite impressive, even after my long practice in chasm gazing). Noeleen is struggling now to put an another pair of panties, her huge buttocks coming dangerously close to me, when she bends forward, two large orbs rushing in my direction... I watch as the silky fabric shoots up her thighs and comes hugging her beautiful ass. Ah, the wonder. The wonder.

But then she goes to the drawer and picks up the blue nylon stockings. She looks at me, seems to hesitate, and then comes closer to the desk, her hand inside one of the legs, like a strong animal in a net. “Okay, darling, you ready for this?”
“Noeleen, honestly, I don’t know. This is going to be so hot in there…. Can’t I just come along in your bra? What’s the deal with changing our routine?”
“Because that’s just that: changing the routine.”
Her face is so close to me now, as she bends forwards, that I could nearly touch her lips. “I just… want you there for a while. I mean, it’s … making me feel… well … good, I guess. Knowing you’re down there with me, as I walk in the streets…. Mmmmm. Come on, it will be  a thrill”.
Now there’s a kink I had not yet seen in my playful girl. And me who was thinking she was generally just indulging me. I realize that our size difference is as much an excitement for her as it is (most times) for me. Of course this is immediately titillating my… less intellectual side. And I have to relent. “Okey, but if it’s too uncomfortable, we stop at once. Okey?”
“Sure, of course, don’t worry.” Her smile is five clicks long.

She steps into the leggings, one foot at a time. It hugs her wonderful legs and hips, sending silky shades on the long shapes. The top of the stockings stops some way under her navel and she rolls it back a bit (she wishes to shamelessly expose  her flat belly to the world, with a total lack of concern for my bruised feelings of jealousy, and is wearing her white tank top, bulging to the brim with her perfect sized breasts). I’m gazing up this enormous body, when her warm fingers gently grab me and lift me closer to her hips.
“In you go… there… tell me if its’ okey.” Her fingers slip me along her flagrant skin, past the panties, and my feet get stuck at her mid-thigh. Noeleen gently lets the fabric back on her skin, trapping me against her warmth. The nylon feels supple enough to me, although I’m surprised by the strong grip it has on my body. Through it I now face the underside of our desk, the edge I was sitting on earlier, now way above me.

The world rotates suddenly as Noeleen turns to face her mirror (a large one, the cumbersome present of a vain auntie…). We both get to gaze at our respective reflections. Noeleen takes poses, hands on her hips, checking her slender figure, and her long slim legs encased in shiny blue sheaths. As for me, well…, I stare at my little body reflected in the distance, a mere little lump in the cliff- face of her nylon-clad thigh, my little out-stretched arms and legs making it look as if I had crash-landed on her leg like a vulgar mosquito.

The nylon grip relaxes a bit, and I slide down a bit, my legs slightly bending now, my feet embedded in the squeezed nylon below. Above two large fingers have opened the stockings at the hips, and through the opening, I can see Noeleen’s face peering at me from far above.
“You OK, down there? Not too squeezed? Hihi, this is something to see you stuck like this. You’re now officially my favourite piece of clothing, tough guy!” she giggles.
“Yeah, yeah, keep talking. When I bite my way through your over-priced leggings, you’ll be sorrier than I am.”
“Wow, no really, I love to see you down here, don’t go anywhere, please!” She lets the nylon hug her hips with a smacking sound.

I gasp. The sudden lurching motion of the huge thigh behind me is pushing me forward with an incredible force. It’s as if a train has suddenly jumped a few meters ahead. I feel the tension in my back as the thigh becomes vertical, trillions of tons it seems resting behind me. When the thigh starts lagging behind, my vision goes downwards, towards the floor, and I sense the vast muscles pushing against me. The powerful lurch forward again, my body changing angle as the ceiling is coming into view. I realise the immense power behind this motion, yet I do not seem to suffer from the sudden changes (I guess the lightness of my body makes me far less vulnerable to inertia). Still the few steps have me going up an down and the alternance ceiling /floor is making me somewhat dizzy at first.

Noeleen comes to a stop in front of her chest of drawers. “You okey? Not too rough?” I’d wave back to her, but hey, I’m stuck like a bug in a plug.
“Hum… It’s sort of okey, bug-brain, but don’t you start jumping all over the pace, will you.”
“Goodie, goodie!! yo, smart ass, you can say good bye to the world!”

As she crouches to open the lower drawer, the thigh goes horizontal, the nylon presses even harder on my body and face and she smiles at me, as I watch her enormous torso and face hovering just above. Her breasts are closing on me, as if to crush me. (I do feel some insistent sensation down below at that impressive view…) Noeleen grabs the mini dress she purchased in spite of all reason and slip in it. The world goes vertical again, as the darkness of the butterfly-infested mini-skirt covers me.
“Time to go shopping you and I, my love. I’ll try and let you know what’s up.” I hear a kiss flying in my direction, as the fabric of the dress comes pressing on me and the vast lurching motions starts again.

Noeleen is walking out. For me, it’s a series of swinging movements, forward, backward, forward, in the hot darkness under her skirt. I feel the huge thigh pumping, an enormous machine carrying a terrifying weight. I am very much aware of the insignificance of my little body on Noeleen’s thigh. An absolutely negligible passenger, my presence is surely hardly felt at all by my girl.

I can imagine her now, walking in the street. She’s quite a looker, my little Noeleen. She has taken out her best weapons with this miniskirt and this tank top. I can well imagine her cruising through the crowd (well, what passes as a crowd in our little town), radiant as a little sun, squeezing past an alley of smiles and glances from the lads. I can imagine her long legs tracing a slim and graceful trail in the street, a flash of blue nylon under a lightly floating skirt, measuring out the world in graceful steps. She’s probably smiling this innocent smile of hers, beaming her white teeth at everyone around her, her hair floating about as in a shampoo ad. A pretty sight I’m sure. An uplifting sight even, one could say. Except maybe for the little lump hidden in the shadows of her skirt, sweating and squirming under the nylon, pressed into the soft skin of her inner thigh, and who is now reviewing again and again the treacherous move of a certain knight. (Hu ho, the little lump is slowly sliding down, with all these motions).

I hear Noeleen greetings some people she meets in the streets, and I hear their short replies, and sometimes their little chat high above me. But I hardly recognise the voices. I’m busy trying to prevent the slow sliding down towards the edge of the dress and the inner thigh, where a monstrous and fleshy thigh is passing dangerously closer and closer to me now. (Sometimes the nylon of her right leg grates against the nylon of “my” leg, in a terrific near-metallic sound.). Just above my head, as I progress unwillingly toward the inner sanctum of the skirt, I can see Noeleen’s massive crutch in the shadows, hugged tightly by her silky leggings. If I could stretch a bit further, I could nearly touch the lower rim of her panties.

The temperature is kind of rising up here. Although whiffs of air come from below (where far away feet are clicking away gaily on the very fast- moving sidewalk), the air around me is pretty hot and the relentless friction of the nylon leggings seem to spread more heat around. I am sweating more and more. Under me the street flashes past, Noeleen’s legs projecting hard shadows on the brightly lit concrete of the sidewalk and the skirt bumps in my face every time the thigh is rising forward. Street, skirt, street, skirt. Man, how did I ever come to accept to do this? It’s one thing to travel with a giantess, on her shoulder or in her bra, it’s another one to be stuck under her skirt and not be able to enjoy the scenery.  A strong sweaty smell is coming to my nose now, and I sense the slight layer of sweat between my back and her hot skin. 

 Noeleen has just met Nicola. Great. These two love to talk. I do not know for sure whether they actually listen to one another, but they sure talk, drowning the world in their endless chatter. All motion has stopped now, as Noeleen is talking with her friend. That gives me some sort of a breather. I may even have a chance to start thinking again, you never know. Well, until Noeleen suddenly decides to cross her legs…. I nearly yelp, when I see the massive thigh on my right coming closer, and closer, and closer, the bluish nylon wall slowly rising and coming over me, before slowly starting to press against me, sending me deep into my girl’s skin, compressed, stuck in the huge sandwich of her thighs, a little indent between the fleshy mounds.  The pressure is huge, but not insufferable, Noeleen is still standing after all. Still there’s very little air in here. Everything is silent, absolutely silent. I’m stuck in her flesh, in total darkness. It’s as if the world had disappeared entirely, as if she had suddenly grown to replace it all and I was embedded in the last niche of the universe.  Is she doing this on purpose or has she really forgotten my presence under the skirt? The pressure mounts again; my mouth is pressed into her thigh. I begin to seriously have doubts about this game…

Suddenly the thigh shifts back away to the right, I gasp and inhale the hot air like a half-drowned man. Far above the conversation is still going on, I hear laughter, and giggles, and more words. The noise of the street around is coming back, like a sudden flood, cars, dogs, voices; the world is rushing back into my pressure-deaf ears. A sudden lurch is sending my stomach in my mouth, as the thigh is moving again. We’re walking. As my heart is coming back to a more normal rhythm, I listen to everything. I hear Nicola offer Noeleen to share an afternoon ice cream. Oh goodie, I love ice-cream…

We walk some more minutes more; my ears are full of the great flapping sound of the skirt that moves around me. The heavy click-clack of Noeleen’s shoes down below is measuring out my life for now. All sorts of sounds come to my little ears from the street around us. I manage to start climbing up the leg a bit, to counter-act my slow sliding towards her knee. My head is getting closer to the ceiling of white panties that now arches over me. I’m way too deep now on the inside of her leg. I better start and climb back to the front. Too late. A ear-shattering screeching noise comes from very close. The chair is grating its metallic feet against the cement. I feel my position is coming to a horizontal stance, as Noeleen is now sitting down.

To my dismay, I watch her other thigh coming closer to me now. I have slipped so much towards the inside of her leg, that when she sits, the expansion of her flesh on the chair is bringing me right in a finely sandwiched position. I scramble frantically, my fingers grabbing the nylon grid in an attempt to pull myself along the leg, even as Noeleen sits. When the two thighs finally touch one another in the darkness of the skirt, I just about manage to have my head and my arms out of the squeezing zone. But only the upper part of my body is now in the relatively free space against Noeleen’s crotch. A sudden wave of claustrophobia is seizing me. It’s all so dark and hot and the pressure on my body is intense. For a second I fight not too shout at Noeleen. I can hear her voice, far above and Nicola’s voice too. Noeleen is ordering her favourite coffee ice-cream. Great, I’m glad she seems to be enjoying herself so much while I simmer an inch from her crotch in the confine of her skirt… Love is to share to share the moments. Yeah, right….

I try pushing my elbows into Noeleen’s skin; she needs to realize I’m stuck way too deep between her thighs, and not at all on top of one, as was intended. After a few minutes, while I listen to her slurping away her ice-cream (and get to listen also to Nicola later gossip news), I feel the thighs coming apart suddenly. Noeleen’s voice falters in the middle of a sentence. My little world is rocking for a few seconds, as Noeleen seems to open her thighs as wide as possible. Guess she has just realized where I was after all...

A rush of cool air and light comes now from the widening tunnel under her skirt. Her knees seem really far away, but the sudden opening of my vision is a welcome respite. All I see now is the vast length of both thighs, coming to an abrupt vertical end. The ceiling is made of the translucent canopy of the skirt where the butterflies have at last stopped their dance. An eerie light bathes my cave… And then I realise what I’m looking at outside….  Not very far way, directly in front of me, another cave seems to be opening. I can see knees, a deepening darkness along the thighs and yup, that’s official folks, Nicola is not wearing panties today, for some mysterious reason. (I should have paid attention to her banter above as I may have heard an explanation for this audacious move… but never mind that) I make a mental note not to mention to Noeleen she has unwillingly given me a very interesting insight into her friend’s… psychology.

Damn, I’d love some ice cream myself, soaked as I am in Noeleen’s sweat. I try to get some fresh air through the nylon net but the day is really getting hot and a musty smell of sweat is present all over my narrow grotto. I can’t help looking ahead (well, technically, at my feet) to this inviting region on the outside, where a naked Nicola is probably happy she did not put any underwear with this heat but is also blissfully unaware of my gazing at her down here. Even as a certain part of me starts awakening and fighting the nylon pressure, I realize a heady flagrance is slowly invading the enclosed place. At reaching distance behind my head, my favourite place in the world, although covered in a double barrier of nylon and fabric, is definitely giving off an aroma that is hard to miss for a sex-obsessed brain like mine. My little Noeleen must find this uncomfortable game a regular turn on. I’m sure her enjoying of the ice-cream is only heightened by the thought of her little boyfriend down close to her sensitive regions.  

Alone in the dark I’m seriously going to overdrive, with temptation all around me, and my arms and body firmly stuck all the same between the hot skin and this maddening net. Above the conversation is definitely taking a dreamy tone, and there is in Noeleen’s voice this very slight tang that only me could place exactly for what it is…the horny slut…she’s really happy with this.

It’s the first time Noeleen is actually exerting her power over me in this fashion. I remember the beginnings when the Shrinking became more than a hypothesis but rather a full-blown process. It took in fact very little time for the power ratio to shift from me to her. After all, even when I was reaching about to her shoulder, my body weight and proportions was already making a weakling of me. When I was reaching no higher than her hips, Noeleen’s body was already overshadowing me in size, sure, but mostly in power.

She was so strong to me, she could lift me as she would a child, but in truth I was weaker than a child. It was a stupendous development to me to see the girl that I swore to protect from all harm (yup, I did say that to her once, in the old fashion way, …but it was an inebriated moment, I’ll say in my favour), to see the girl I could hug in my arms, become so much larger and stronger than me. Hell, she could have dragged me across the street like an unruly brat; I could never have put up any fight. That never happened, we fought and had bad times, but she never ever touched me in any way that could harm me, or make me feel frailer. She never threatened me of any use of her physical strength. Of course the infamous incident of the Tampax box (* see the Pool) is a good reminder that she , at times,  knew how to “reason” with me…

Today, buried under her skirt in the middle of the day, pretty much against my will (although I ‘m just honouring the wager we had), ignored studiously in favour of a simple ice-cream, I do feel so radically insignificant. The sheer domination Noeleen is exerting today over my little self is overwhelming. Lets’ face it, for the next hours I’m hardly more than a piece of clothing. I’m just a… Hold on, I better put this in check. No use working up anger down there. I breathe in slowly. Relax…First, it’s a wager. Second, I know I could have said no. And third… Well, there’s a part of me that actually enjoys the situation. I know it, and I’m quite sure Noeleen knows it also. The view within my tunnel of thighs and skirt is not that unpleasant. Cheer up, man.

Above, the conversation topic is turning to me. Noeleen is telling  Nicola that I’m home, typing my infamous memoirs. I‘ve decided recently that since I wasn’t going to achieve fame through my brilliant acting and stunning looks, I’d be perfect as the new Hemingway  of the Nano-Generation (which I represent fairly well, given that I’m the only member). Noeleen says she likes what I wrote so far, and she seems to enjoy looking at me typing on my diminutive keyboard, but personally I find it hard at times to concentrate with a head the size of a house looking over my shoulder. I once told her she reminds me of my cat when it came sitting on my keyboard at the most crucial Dooming moment, but then she proceeded …to do just that. I’ve never complained since for some reason.

I’m really tempted to let out a mighty roar and put an end to the joyous banter above my head (especially not that a matter of size is being discussed gaily), but I know that would really embarrass Noeleen if I did. I can only be the silent witness to her afternoon tea. So I turn my gaze forward, toward my feet, and the incongruous sight way beyond, where an unknowing Nicola is revealing more than she knows to me. I’m just thinking that life isn’t so hard after all when the sudden collapse of the skirt canopy above me takes me by surprise in my reverie. (Noeleen, using her quasi telepathic powers must have guessed my thoughts, once again, and my somewhat restrained fervour is quashed in its infancy). I feel squeezed and pushed, and dragged along the sweaty skin by invisible fingers. The nylon covering me is sort of bruising my skin now. When the discreet, but firm gesture is over, the top of my head is pressed against Noeleen’s crotch. The treacherous fiend wasn’t helping me out at all!  She was just making sure I was situated closer to a region of interest.

I know how to read a hint. Although I would not try and put my hands under her panties (I’ve more room now, since the leggings are giving way in a graceful arch, that close to her body, and my face is free from the tight hug of the nylon at last). Claustrophobia is threatening, in the hot darkness, and I do feel so small under the massive proximity of this resting body, yet moved by my noblest instinct, I start fumbling around with my extended arms. I feel the silky fabric and when I push against it, I feel the soft flesh behind. Well, I think to myself, if the Lump has a job to do, he may as well do it properly.
“You all right?” asks a concerned Nicola to a shivering Noeleen.
“Sure, just a chill. Must be the ice cream. “, answers my devious girlfriend with a smile.
Hehe, the games we play…

.......................

I’m back to the front seat (or at least the front of her thigh, way from the dangerous criss-crossing of the enormous legs. Under me the ground has changed and I watch a forest of green flashing past, at it is squashed relentlessly under the massive feet. We must be in the park. I suffer patiently the long walk to the near-by trees. When I feel my body going horizontal again, and as the skirt’s fabric settles over my face, I know Noeleen has sat down in the grassy knoll (a place I took her often to, in a desperately romantic fashion; little did I know then that I would be visiting it again as a fashion accessory  .)

Light floods over me ,as the butterfly-infested fabric lifts at last like a giant theatre curtain. My eyes blink in the sunshine, and I find myself staring at the incredibly distant canopy of a mighty tree. A second later, Noeleen’s fingers find their way under the leggings and squeezing me pretty hard, extract me from my prison.  I ‘m lifted close to her huge face, her eyes examining me intently. God, it’s great to be out !.
“So, what did you think? This is great, aint’it?” clamours her Highness (her breath stills smells from vanilla and coffee)
“Plain brilliant, Noeleen, how the hell didn’t we think of this earlier?” I retort casually..
“Oh, I knew you’d enjoy this, and don’t pretend otherwise.” She holds me so close to her nose now, that she actually squints to see me. Call me weird, but I find that cute.
“Sure, I’d do that any day, I love wearing skirts, too.”
“Hey, learn to play chess and you won’t have to, sucker and by the …”
A definite noise breaks our conversation, Noeleen, cute as button, just let out a fart. She blushes (quite sight to see a bill board-size face changing colour).
 “Oups sorry, darling”
“Are ya preparing some kind of gaz-chamber for me next?!!” I yell in a frenzy.
“Oh, grow up, will ya !!”

tbc ?

nostromo