The harsh pressure from her groin weighs too much - your shrunken joints are already screaming in a chorus of agony. Too much longer, and you'll pop into a little trace, lost underneath the mass of love. It doesn't matter if senpai notices you or not; this is a life-and-death situation!

You struggle with all your might, as little as you have in your state. The sheer weight Matsudo's warm pussy exerts on you makes it hard to breathe. Curling an aching leg up, you kick weakly. Your foot sinks into the fabric, deep inside the fabric's endlessly-repeating folds - irregularities in the lips they veil. Perspiration builds up around your ankle, stuck in the pure surface.

"Ngh..." That's Senpai's voice. Even if it doesn't free you, you could gain her attention by struggling.

You hold your breath, and kick again. Your right shoe falls off, tugged underneath the president. Pressure still crushes your limbs. You try moving your arms forward, but it's like swimming through warm molasses. No; molasses doesn't have the breathing cycle, rocking up and down over you, and squeezing you into the seat's unforgiving imprint.

Are you really going to die here - beneath Senpai's womanhood? You never even got a chance to hold her hand, or have her flirt with you, or bear her children... Will your life end pathetically, a stain on her otherwise-spotless panties?

With a valiant "HIIIII~!", you spring forward, pushing your limbs back at once, muscling your way through the crushing agony. Thoughts of Senpai pulse through your head. You gasp continuous breaths, ignoring the musky, raw taste lingering in the air around her grin.

A push.

The off-white microcosm starts to twitch, terraforming in the sky.

Another, harder push.

You can feel pressure releasing from your torso, the cotton mass drifting aside. It's working!

One more, with everything you've got---

Sssslip.

The hefty feeling lingers, then lifts off your body. A cool sensation drifts across your back. When you breathe the thin air, your lungs can take it all in. And though your feet, your spine, and your everything still aches... with wobbly legs, you can stand, looking o over the edge of the chair.

You did it! When everything seemed lost to the dark cave, you overcame the odds, and escaped from Matsudo's panty prison!

You turn to the panties, taking a step away for safety. "Pheew..." They're absolutely massive from this angle. Like a soft, flexible tower, teaching to the skies above. The imprint of her vagina is thick enough to carry a shadow over you; pearly gates large enough to eat a man whole. To think - you're the only boy in this school who's actually touched Matsudo from below... And you lived to tell the tale!

"Nph..."

Suddenly, tremors ring out - harsher and wilder than any earthquake you've ever bore witness to. It knocks you to your backside, and rocks the chair rapidly.

A low, ominous groan rises from Matsudo's mouth: "It itches..."

It seems like your squirming irritated the gigantic President Matsudo.

With that, you gaze up to see the skirt's segments folding onto themselves, one by one. To your left, the pale expanse of her leg lifts slightly from the seat, drops of sticky sweat falling from it. It drags across the seat's surface, daring right towards the source of the itch - you.

With a gulp, you turn the other way, and run back. That's when you see; her other thigh is rushing towards you just as fast. The panties fold inwards as both pillars rush together.

You run forward, towards the seat's edge - but your legs can't keep up with Matsudo's. Each smooth, shapely limb is 85 meters long - almost the size of a blue whale. It'd only takes her a single step to traverse a city block. There's no chance you can traverse that stretch in such a short time.

THUD.

The gap between her thighs disappears - they collide together, flesh against flesh. Darkness engulfs your entire form. Your arms sink into the silky surface on either side, hopelessly pushed in. The force grinds into you, tearing away all traces of the outside world. Then, it stops.

You take a breath, and register what just happened: she closed her legs.

You're sandwiched in a tiny crevice between Senpai's thighs - the proverbial "Absolute Territory", were her socks higher.

Goosebumps roll up your back. Compared to her panties, the musk is less intense; but the pressure isn't any more forgiving, and it's coming from EVERY side of you. The touch of her skin is nearly as intimate as that of her undies; maybe even more so, since you've actually made contact with a part of Matsudo's body, unfiltered by any cotton barrier.

"...Still itches..." The president's sighs and grumbles, and the accompanying clocks, come out muffled by layers of muscular tissue. Muscles that, at her command, flex and transform, brushing against each other. You're directly at the center of the rubbing motion, twisted deeper into the soft, leathery skin. Trying to move from one slender leg only slams you into another, and mangles your leg. For a split-second at the apex of each rub, you can hear her pulse behind it; before you becomes a blur again, pulled into the rhythmic motions.

To Kotoko, it would look like Matsudo was merely fidgeting in her seat. At your teensy scale? The waves are wilder and more sickening than they'd be on a trek across the Pacific Ocean by rowboat!

The continual, thundering thigh lifts and falls drones into you. Senpai seems to have paid attention to shaving her legs; the surfaces are marble-smooth, even as you clutch to them for support. They don't have as firm a grip on you as the Impenetrable Wall Of Panty. This means you find your minuscule form tossed around easily with each twitch, boring deeper into her dermis.

However - this also grants you greater control of yourself. You line your back up against her left thigh (or is that right? You've been twisted so much, and the skin lets no light in...). Gritting your teeth, you push your feet against the opposing pillar of pale skin. It absorbs your blow, like it was made of some kind of spongy material. Your limbs sink in. The next twitch from Matsudo bends them like twigs. Were it not for those extra hardening qualities in that vial she made, you'd be relegated to a wheelchair for the rest of your days. Even in this state, the pain is too much to bear.

Standing still isn't an option. Some kami has seen fit to give you the gift of locomotion once more - and you'd be dumb to squander it. You could try squirming out from above, and climbing atop one of her gigantic legs - though the journey looks arduous. And with her cool, aloud attitude, who knows how the president would react - especially now that she knows something was itching her groin? Alternatively, you might wiggle downwards, tunneling under the statuesque limbs. But then you'd risk getting crushed beneath them.

...Come to think of it, which way IS up? The all-encapsulating darkness gives you very little trip work with. And somewhere in her thighs' assault, your head spun a few times. You've really lost sense of direction...

...Until a stray drop of sweat slides down Matsudo's thigh, splashing your hair. You shake it, trying to dry off. Okay; your head's facing up. Where do you squirm?