ROYAL REWARD: Honma Himawari's Thigh-Highs (Clothing TF, Vtuber, Second Person)

You creep through the corridor like a messenger bringing bad news to his liege, your heart pounding in your chest, your hand tight and clammy around your VIP pass. Your free hand shakes; you grab your wrist and squeeze it, tighter, tighter. A bead of sweat drips from your face. You mop your brow on your sleeve and scurry onward. Faster, faster. 

There’s no guard at the door–you’ve already been checked and told to go right ahead. You’re expected. All you have to do is raise a hand and knock. 

It takes you a moment to do so, of course. Standing there on the precipice, your heart threatening to jump out of your throat, it takes you a moment even to draw in your next breath, let alone take the next step. An hour passes in a moment. Fresh sweat drips from your face. You breathe in, out, slowly, slowly. In the end, your hand moves on its own. Only as the door opens do you realize you’ve knocked. 

The young woman standing on the other side is no surprise–indeed, she’s exactly the person you expected–and yet the sight of her hammers you to the spot like a nail. “H-H-H-H–” 

“Hi!” cries Honma Himawari, grabbing your hand and all but dragging you into the room. “Come on in! I’ve been waiting for you!” She grins, and her smile melts you like butter on the sun. 

Hauled into her dressing room like a room, you stumble into the center and stand there stunned and unresponsive as Himawari closes the door behind her. Now that you’re here, the reality of your situation has finally caught up to you–when you paid for the VIP pass, you might as well have been buying plane tickets to Fairyland. Only, you’re actually here, dancing in the moonlight glades with the elves and the unicorns. What are you supposed to do now? 

Himawari clearly senses your confusion. Giggling, she takes your hand in her own and guides you across the room to a couch, guiding you into it with a smirk. As you sink into the upholstery, she grabs the chair from her dressers, drags it over, and plops it in front of you.

As she sinks into it, you can’t help but notice she’s not wearing anything on her legs. No stockings, no socks, no pantyhose, no leggings whatsoever. They’re completely bare. 

Despite your efforts to hide your shock, Hima-chan clearly notices it. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, raising a leg and resting a foot cheekily on your knees. “I didn’t have time to put on a new pair of stockings before you knocked…” 

You barely hear her words. All the blood that was supporting your brain is currently rushing to your crotch–her foot is barely a, well, a foot away from your penis. You’d do something to cover it, but it’s not the only part of you that’s rigid. You can barely even breathe at the moment. 

Grinning, she raises her other leg and rests her foot on your other knee, leaning back as if your legs are her personal footstool. “I guess I don’t have to ask what you like about me, do I?” She sticks her tongue out. You blush. 

Sweating like a snowman in the desert, you struggle to remember how to move the flappy thing in your jaws. “Wh-what happened to your socks?” She was wearing a cute, cat-styled pair of thigh highs half an hour ago when you saw her on stage. 

“Oh, I caught them on something on the way here…” Reaching back, she grabs a pair off her dresser and holds them up to show you. One of the socks is okay, but the other has an enormous tear in the side, like someone’s taken a pair of scissors to it. 

You work your jaw, struggling to figure out how to reply, but what are you supposed to say to someone in these circumstances? You’re as out of your element as an astronaut dropped into the depths of the ocean. They never trained you for this at space school! “O-oh, I’m sorry,” you finally mutter.

Hima-chan giggles. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter. I can easily get another pair. …In fact, since you’re already here, maybe you’d like to help me?”

“H-huh?” You jerk back in shock, wondering what she’s talking about. Does she want you to pay for them? You wouldn’t mind–it’s not like they’re expensive–but it’s a little more miserly than you’d expect from someone like her. 

Reading your expression, she giggles. “No, no, it’s okay, you can put your wallet away. I don’t mean that. Actually, I have something a little more fun in mind~.” She winks. 

You sweat. “Wh-what do you mean…?” 

“Well, you like my legs a lot, right…?” Grinning like an imp, she shuffles forward on her chair, allowing her feet to slide even farther along your own legs, till they’re barely half-a-foot from your crotch. You freeze, wanting to squeak. It’s like she’s touching it already. “...How would you like to really get to know them?” 

She raises her foot, as if to give your crotch a poke, and then at the last second, snatches it away again. Smirking, she throws herself off her chair and makes her way to her dressers, where she rummages in a drawer and emerges holding…

You blink, struggling to understand quite what you’re looking at. “...Is that a gun?” 

“Mmmn.” Returning to her chair, Himawari holds it up and turns it around for you to see. “One of my other fans sent it to me. It’s supposed to be able to turn anything you shoot it at into a copy of anything it’s scanned.” Twisting the dial on the side, she takes aim at the undamaged sock and with a quick squeeze of the trigger… Zap! 

You can only stare, struggling to believe what you’re hearing. Is she trying to prank you? “Why do you need my help though? Why not just zap a random piece of trash?” 

Himawari giggles; you blush. “I couldn’t walk about with a piece of trash around my legs…! I want to wear something special. You know… like one of my adoring fans~.” 

You freeze as what she’s suggesting finally gets through to you. She wants you to become her sock? How could you possibly agree to something like that? You like her a lot, but not enough to become an inanimate object for her. 

“Don’t worry,” says Hima-chan, clearly reading your response. “It wouldn’t be for long–just until I can have another pair delivered. And in the meantime… just think how close you’ll be to me…” She raises her leg again, and this time she shows no mercy: her sole drops onto your crotch, making you squeak as she rubs it. “...Wrapped around my beautiful, slender leg… an innocent piece of fabric whose only purpose is to make me look good…” She shifts her foot; her heel catches your tip. Even through the cloth of your pants, it’s enough to make you gulp. “Just imagine how much you’ll enjoy yourself~.” 

In your chest, your heart is thudding like a drum. You bite your lip, struggling to speak. Can you… Can you really go through with this…? “You–you promise you’ll turn me back once you get a new pair?”

“Of course,” says Hima-chan. “As soon as they arrive, I’ll turn you back to normal. And in the meantime, you’ll get to enjoy…” She strokes a thigh, and you shiver as her fingers sink into the fat. 

Your hands tremble. “O-okay,” you say at last. “I guess… I guess in that case it can’t hurt.” 

“Great!” cries Hima, leaping to her feet. Grabbing your hands, she drags you off the couch and into the center of the room. “Now, get ready,” she says, raising the raygun. 

You swallow. How are you ever supposed to prepare yourself for something like this? It’s insane! Half an hour ago, you wouldn’t even have said it was possible. Can you really go through with this?” 

“Three…” says Himawari, taking aim. “Two…” Her finger dances over the trigger. 

You squeeze your wrist, tight with nerves. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe you should say you’ve changed your mind and go. M-maybe– Maybe–

“One!” With a smirk, Hima-chan squeezes the raygun’s trigger. And a beam of liquid light spurts out of its tip, streams across the room, and pours into your chest, making your squeal and scream and jerk, tingling like you’ve been electrocuted. Your hands shake. Your hair stands on end. Every cell in your body feels as if it’s burning. J-just what have you signed up for?!

With a flash, your clothing vanishes, vaporized. For an instant, you stand there frozen naked in the beam, your teeth chattering, flush with embarrassment. Then, with a sudden jerk, you snap your head to the ceiling and open wide, as if you’re trying to swallow the lightbulb. A wave of tingling washes through your skin, as if you’ve been pricked by a thousand, thousand needles, and when you try to scream, all that comes out is a thin gasp, like all the air has been forced out of you. Actually, it feels like the opposite is happening: as if all the air in the room is pouring into your body, stretching your skin like a balloon. You squeak, pained by the tension. 

At the same time, a pair of hands, gigantic and ghost-like, emerge from the ether and grip you and squeeze you, like you're a sponge and they’re trying to wring you dry. You squeal, squirming and shifting, struggling to break free as they crush you. Between the force filling you and the force squeezing you, it’s as if you’ve been caught in a vice–you’re being smushed flat. You squeal, slamming your eyes tight as moaning through your gaping hole of a mouth, every cell in your body shaking like it’s about to burst. At any second, you’re certain you’ll pop, squished like a bug. 

Your arms, squashed painfully tight against your sides, grow flatter and flatter and finally seem to fade, merged inseparably with them. Farther down, your legs shrivel and fold up into themselves, like socks being pulled inside out. You try not to think about how that might happen to you in the future. 

By the time your legs are done disappearing inside themselves, your lowest point is left as your crotch, where your penis appears to be taking precedence. As you watch, your erection grows, not rising as you might expect, but swelling outward, thickening, as if it’s being filled out by the rest of your mass. Soon, it comes to cap the end of your form outright.

Another wave of sensation rolls through your entrapped body, making your flimsy new flesh ripple like a flag in the breeze. Shimmering, it changes, turning a deep shade of grey. It takes you a second to recognize it as the color of Hima-chan’s socks. 

With this change of color, it doesn’t take long for the last of your humanity to fade. Slowly, your flattened arms sink into your sides, and your swollen glans smooths into a nice, neat cap to a single cute sock. Your neck swells, stretching out till it’s as wide as your gaping mouth, and in the process your head and your shoulders sink into it. Soon, all that remains is a long tunnel of cloth.

By now, the emptiness inside you is completely overwhelming. You feel as if you’re as thin and flimsy as a piece of cloth, and maybe you are. But the raygun clearly isn’t finished with you: from all around you and inside you comes another crushing wave of force, making you scream inside as you’re crushed. The room around you, Himawari included, grows to gigantic size. 

Finally, two tiny cat’s ears sprout from your mouth, and a cute cat’s face forms below to complete the effect. With that, the beam dies. The light fades. Falling from the air, you strike the floor and squeal in shock. Even the touch of the ground is enough to set you alight with lust. You’ve never felt so sensitive. 

Lowering the raygun, Himawari giggles. “Did you enjoy that?” she asks, stepping forward. “You really sounded like you were at the end.” 

You try to speak, but of course you have no voice. 

Placing the raygun on the desk, Himawari ambles over and stoops to pick you up. As her fingers squeeze what your brim, you writhe in lust, shivering and whimpering. It’s like your entire body is your penis. 

Taking a seat on her chair, she raises you to her face, smirking in amusement. “Ready?” 

You don’t have time to react. Taking your mouth in both hands, she stretches it, wide, wide, wider and wider, making you scream in agonized lust, and, raising her leg–

The feeling of it filling you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt in your life. As her foot glides through your mouth, stretching your former esophagus tight around with it, your body burns with utter ecstasy, stretched to the very verge of orgasm and caught there, frozen in absolute pleasure. By the time her toes finally reach your tip, you feel as if you're stuck in the very moment of ejaculation–it’s impossible to think straight. 

When Hima-chan releases you with a snap, you regain a little sense though. Enough to hear what she says next. “You know, I lied about turning you back,” she says, expression smug. “The raygun’s completely permanent. From now on, you’re just my cute little sock, and I’m going to treat you like it, okay?” She strokes you, making you shiver. Wh-what is she talking about? “Nothing more than my cute little sock, forever.”

You want to gasp, but the pleasure is too great. You can barely even think.

“Don’t worry,” she adds, giving you another playful little stroke. “I doubt you’ll care very much soon anyway…” 

She wiggles her toes, and with a crack, your mind snaps, reduced to a thousand mewling little shards of lust. 

Smirking, Himawari stands and reaches for her other sock.