ROYAL REWARD: Punished Thigh-High (Clothing TF)

You’re passing by the clothing store, ambling casually towards the next item on your itinerary, when you happen to catch sight of the love of your life in the window. Skidding to a stop, you back track, brushed your hair from your eyes, and plant your face against the glass. 

There they rest: a pair of thigh-highs, tall and dark, and stretched tight over the legs of an equally attractive mannequin. Whoever made this one really knows their stuff: they’ve even modelled the compression of the flesh where the mouth of the thigh-highs squeezes the thighs. You’ve never seen something so perfect in your life. 

The socks themselves are a pair of jewels, of course: two beautiful sapphires, sparkling in the sunlight. Black as jet, with pink cat’s faces printed just under the mouths, they glisten in the light of the mall like a pair of prismatic oil slicks. You’ve never seen anything you want to be more in the world. 

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and, momentarily forgetting the fact you’re in public, allow yourself to drift off into dreamland. You picture yourself as a pair of socks yourself, mouth wrapped tightly around a beautiful woman’s thighs, simultaneously stretched by her legs and squeezed by your own elasticity. The tension–even just the thought of it–sends a shiver through your form. You slam your legs shut, suddenly aware of your erection. Maybe it would be best if you found a restroom.

As you prepare to go, however, you feel a sudden tap on your shoulder. “Whacha looking at, nya? Hmm…? Oooo, I see. Nyou wanna be a pair of thigh-highs, huh? Nyou little pervert~.” 

With a gasp, you spin around, heart already pounding in horror. No! No! Your luck can’t be this bad, can it? Why did it have to happen to you? Why here? 

The Bakeneko’s cyan tail flicks from side to side playfully. “What’s the matter, nya?” she asks, cocking her head. “I’m nyot going to do anything nyasty to nyou.” 

You open your eyes and swallow. “You’re not?” You know she’s lying–she has to be. She’s just giving you false hope!

The catgirl licks her lips. “Of course nyot, nya.” Pushing past you, she presses her face against the glass too, giggling as she takes in the thigh-highs on the other side. “Mmm~, nyou picked a good pair. I bet nyou wouldn’t have to wait long for a cute girl to pick nyou out. Those things must be flying off the shelves.” She turns to you with a smirk; you tremble.

Your lips are dry; you lick them absently. “Wh-what are you–?” 

“How’d nyou like to be a pair, nya?” Leaning in close, her face filling your sight, the catgirl smirks like a shark. “Want me to make it happen?”

As you stand there and tremble, she pops the top button of her blouse and reaches into her cleavage to pull out a cyan pointer. Twirling it like a pen, she taps you on the shoulder. “What do nyou think, nya?” 

“I–” You try to speak, but your throat is suddenly parched. You feel as if you haven’t had anything to drink in years.

The catgirl giggles. “Well, okay then!” Grabbing you by the wrist, she drags you into the store.

As the door slams behind you, you can’t help but notice that no-one seems to be taking any notice of you. Is she wearing a ninja-field? 

Coming to a stop beside the mannequin with the socks, the Bakeneko snatches a pair from the shelf and uses her pointer to open the packet. Pulling the socks inside out, she holds them and smirks before laying them on the shelf like fish on the grill. She aims her pointer at one, and with a flash, it vanishes.

The Bakeneko adjusts her pointer with a smirk. “Purrfect,” she says, grinning smugly. “Hold still, nya~.” 

With a grin, she aims the pointer right at your chest. You don’t even have time to take a breath before it lights up and–

Zzap! 

–a bolt of juice, fizzling and crackling, slams into you. Every nerve in your body starts shining like Christmas lights. With a wild moan, your eyes trembling in their sockets, you stumble backward, your heart pounding in your chest. You feel as if your body is going to burst any second now.

Fortunately, it doesn’t. Instead, you throw your head back, aim your eyes at the ceiling, and open your mouth wide. Your gasp for help cuts out mid-cry as you gag on the air, struggling to regain control of yourself. 

The catgirl licks her lips and twists her pointer. You shriek inside as something slams into your mouth, something large as a tree trunk and completely invisible, forcing its way down your throat and all the way into your… cock? Your eyes shake again as your erection rises once more and with force, lifted like a sock puppet that’s just regained its hand. A muffled squeak escapes you as your tip rubs against your pants. 

Another twist of the wrist, and with a flare of the beam, your clothing starts to disintegrate, little pink flames eating away at the fabric till all that remains are a few smoldering scraps of shirt and pants. Your underwear aren’t spared either, of course: in a flash, your underpants burst into brilliant pink flames, and your cock springs from the ashes like a triumphant phoenix. The catgirl giggles; you moan. 

The invisible telephone pole currently worming its way through you slides a little deeper, stretching your poor, tortured body around it in the process. You moan as your muscles and bones protest, feeling like you’re going to explode. It’s so large you can’t take it! You’re going to burst! 

Instead, another force assaults you from outside instead. Like a pair of giant hands, or an enormous vice, it wraps around you and squeezes you, compressing you tight. Your arms slam into your sides and collapse, flattened, while your legs snap together and squeeze so tight they practically meld. You can only moan, still shaking in horror, as the pointer takes them and curls them upward, rolling them till your erect shaft is the lowest part of your body. It trembles, so hard it almost hurts. 

With another laugh from the catgirl, what remains of your human appearance rapidly fades. Your arms melt into your sides, your hair fades into your scalp, and your eyes and nose slam shut, never again to open. Soon all that remains is your mouth and your cock and the seamless trunk of flesh between them. 

Your skin, slick with fearful sweat, trembles and starts to change, turning dark and smooth as it morphs into high-quality nylon, a shade of brown so deep it’s practically black. Where the sunlight touches you, you sparkle a little, shimmering like a beautiful jewel. You might appreciate it, if you actually had a good look at yourself. 

The catgirl twists her pointer once last time, and with a sudden flare of juice, fresh color appears on you. A pair of pointed ear shapes sprouted from your mouth, dark triangles with pink ones inside them. At the same time, a cute cat’s face paints itself just beneath it, leaving you looking like the happiest little thigh-high sock in the entire world.

Giggling, the catgirl twists her pen again, and the force around you tightens, squeezing you smaller, smaller, smaller, until at last, with a silent scream, you flutter to the floor, unable to air your horror as you land there flat and inanimate. 

Cocking her head, she smiles. “Wow, nyou came out well, nya!” Her smile droops. “A little tooo well. Hmm… I forgot how high-quality man-made clothes are compared to regular ones. I should do something about that… We don’t want anyone thinking nyou’re a luxury good nyow, do we, nya?” With a giggle, she twists her pen again. 

A second beam strikes you, searing your exposed nerves. You scream inside, mind bubbling and steaming as the light scours the surface of your brain. Under its influence, you sizzle, your polymers tearing and tattering till they’re struggling to hold together. With every second, it becomes harder to think.

Another twist, and your thought come apart like alphabet spaghetti in the blender. Your fabric tightens, quality dropping with the second till you’re barely able to think, and by the time the pointer drops again, you’ve lost every hint of sparkle. You’re so dull, you’re practically matte now.

The beam snaps off, and a few spots of juice land around you, fizzling rapidly into steam.

The catgirl looms over you, expression playful. “Much better, nya.” Holding up the other thigh-high sock, she looks between the two of you and giggles. “Wow, nyou came out so well, nya! Nyou’re practically indistinguishable! Well, are nyou happy nyow? Are nyou happy to finally get to be the beautiful thigh-high sock nyou always wanted to be?” She holds you up to her face, waiting for her response. You’re a little more focused on the feeling of her fingers against your fabric; oh Mom–it’s ecstasy! 

“I’ll take that as a yes, nya.” With a giggle, she opens the packet and stuffs you and your partner sock inside it. Using her pointer to seal it tight, she places you back on the shelf and steps away, a smug expression on her face. “Well, I guess this is goodbye, nya. Enjoy nyour nyew life! Nyahaha!” 

And with that, she bounds away. 

Trapped there in your packet, body folded in half and pressed against your partner, you can only squirm inside, desperately hoping that someone will come to save you. You take it back! You didn’t really want to become a thigh-high sock. 

Shoppers flit by without taking any notice of you.

***

You don’t know exactly how long you spent on the shelf in the end. After some time, it lost all meaning to you. The passing of one person melded into the next, which flowed seamlessly into the one after and so on in turn. Before you knew it, you’d lost track of time completely.

In the end, it’s the feeling of someone touching you that snaps you out of your reverie. As a shock of pleasure surges through your form, you gasp to find a beautiful young woman standing over you. Picking up your packet, she turns you around and around, the pressure of her fingers against the plastic squeezing your fabric in turn, making you wish you still had a penis to cum with. It feels so good! 

At last, the woman nods to herself and turns and marches to the counter, where you’re swiftly paid for, bagged, and left to dangle from her arm as she marches out of the store. Just what is going to happen to you? 

It isn’t long before she arrives home. Thrown onto the bed, you lie there and stare at the cute pink bedroom around you, at the stuffed toys lining the cupboards and bed, and the short blonde hair of your adorable new owner as she changes her clothes above you. If you’d still been human, you would have blushed so hard you caught fire.

Finally, she turns back to you. Bending down, she slips a hand beneath you and lifts you up, leaving you to scream inside at the feeling of her fingers against you. Oh Mom, it’s so good! 

Squeezing and stretching you, as if curious exactly how strong your fabric is, she plops her butt on the bed, lifts her leg, and stretches your mouth wiiiide open. You can only scream at the pressure on your nerves–ecstasy courses through you, red-hot and burning, so painfully intense, you really wish you could express it. You’ve never felt anything so intense.

Naturally, she one-ups the experience an instant later, when she slips her foot into your mouth and starts to pull you up her leg. All you can do is scream, mind bubbling and burning, as she pinches your mouth and drags you up, up, up– Pleasure rips through your body.

As her nails scrape your nylon and her thighs fill your mouth, their petite yet generous width stretching it even wide, you lose yourself to an overwhelming delight. Your mind collapses to a point, unable to experience anything greater. 

Then her toe slams into your tip, into the end of what was formerly your penis, and just like that, your brain goes supernova. Ecstasy, hot and bright, so searing it scours everything in its path, shines through you and incinerates everything that remains of your damaged sanity. All you can do is take it and burn, take it and suffer in utter, orgasmic ecstasy. 

Giving you one last tug, she releases you with a snap. Wrapping tight around her, stretched taut by her adorable leg and crushed tight by your own innate elasticity, you can only lie there in orgasmic delight, unable to air even a single word of your pleasure. You’ve never felt anything so perfect in your life. 

Ignoring you–after all, who pay the slightest attention to a sock–she picks up your partner and slips them on without a thought. 

Delighted, you drift into an orgasmic reverie.