"...Then, next... I'll put you inside the bag."
Subject words were as gentle as ever.
In a tone of voice as if she were covering me with a blanket,
my body was slid into the compression bag.
Enveloped in the membrane,
I sank into the transparent bag.
Hissss…
The air was sucked out of the bag.
The sensation of "sinking" felt through the silicone of the sleep sack
transforms into a "tightening pressure" pushing back from the entire bag.
Pressed tightly against the bag from the outside,
each escape route disappears one by one.
“Nn-aah… hhf… khh… nn… ahh…!”
There isn't enough oxygen.
But—there was a faint trace of oxygen left inside the bag that hadn't been completely sucked out.
Desperately searching,
the lungs expand inside the mask,
the lips invisible, seeking oxygen.
But each time,
the entire bag tightens around the body.
"Ufufu... You can breathe as much as you want.
...Just the remaining amount, okay?"
I continued to search instinctively for oxygen,
not knowing where it was.
My lungs burned, my throat dried up,
but "this child's face" remained the same—
still wearing that troubled, sweet expression.
Pressure. Sealing. Silence.
All of it
immersed my trembling body beneath the mask—
sweetly, sensually,
completely into the pleasure of being "this character."