Held stock still by her jeans, shoes, and the stocking ropes that pinned her arms to her sides, Marie could only watch and scream muffled screams as she watched items of clothing from the huge pile of laundry start moving in front of her. Gloves filled themselves with invisible hands and picked up more dirty stockings, which pulled themselves onto invisible legs. Leggings and trousers filled themselves out, and shirt buttons did themselves up.
A pair of pink lace gloves floated towards Marie, making tickle movements. Marie`s eyes opened wide with fear...
"Mmmmmmmmggggnn! Mmmm nn phhhgnn!"
But rather than start tickling her, the gloves pointed to the open door behind her. Were they letting her go?
Her nylon ropes loosened and slid off her, escaping into the pile of moving laundry. Her stocking gag slipped easily from her head, and out came the cheesy tasting nylons that had balled up in her mouth. Her t-shirt rolled up, slid over her head and off her arms, revealing her bra. Her bra unclipped itself and followed her t-shirt into the pile of dirty clothes. Before she could grab at the jeans, stockings and shoes that held her legs in place, her belt, button and zip undid themselves. Her jeans sat her sharply on the floor. Her smelly old converse shoes untied themselves, and left her feet, revealing the ripped stockings. They walked calmly over to the corner of the room and waited. Still sat, her jeans and stockings pulled themselves off her legs and came to rest on the laundry pile.
She could almost get away!
Only her knickers remained. The cream lace knickers that were so comfy were now being mischievous, goosing her bum. She squealed with each grab and went to rip them off. Instead, the knickers slowly took themselves off, but not before tickling at her between her thighs and all down her legs as they removed themselves.
She was free...the realisation hit quicker than the fear, and she bolted out of the laundry room, slamming the door shut behind her and running--crying and terrified--into her hallway, completely naked.
Too exhausted to speak, she knew she had to get out of the house, and quickly. But she was naked. She couldn`t go running out of the house like this...hysterical, naked, and telling tales of living clothes and tickling forks? She would be locked up in an instant! As much as it made her skin crawl, she had to find some clothes that wouldn`t imprison her again, and quickly.
Marie ran up her narrow staircase, stopping outside her bedroom. She was breathing quickly, but managed to calm down enough to listen for noise. There was none. Maybe what was going on with the house hadn`t affected her bedroom yet, which was a relief. Her large wardrobe was in there, along with a long overdue pile of laundry and all her old tickle toys. She was taking a risk going in there, but she had to do it.
She peered inside. Everything looked as she had left it. Nothing moved on its own, no stockings wriggled, no clothes put themselves on.
She thought quickly. Flip flops, short skirt, strappy top. That cant possibly bind me, or attack me. I can get them off quickly if they come to life...
Nothing jumped out at her as she opened the drawer and grabbed her denim skirt. No movement from anything as she pulled on her pink strappy top. She slid her feet tentatively into her blue flip flops, and was relieved to find she wasn`t being walked around by them. She tried kicking one off. It flew away easily. She breathed easier as she put it back on and made a run for the front door right in front of her staircase, slamming the bedroom door behind her.
As she left the room, she hadn`t noticed the drawer full of lace gloves opening on its own, or the unwashed stockings wriggling out of her overflowing laundry bag.
The front door was locked. "Dammit, dammit dammit, let me out!" Marie said to herself. The key hung from a hook above the door. She reached for it, and breathed a sigh of relief when it didn`t fly out of her reach. Marie tried the handle again, but it jammed and would not push down. "No...move!! Open!! Dammit!!" She growled.
She put the key to the lock, but it wouldn`t go in. It stopped one inch from the hole, like a magnet repelling another magnet.
"Oh no...please, no, not now--just let me out!!" She could feel panic rising again...
She tried the key again, but this time, it shot right out of her hand and landed on the step behind her. She went to grab for it, but was pushed back against the door...
Her flip flops, which she had thought would be safe, started to itch her toes. She tried to kick them off, but they seemed glued to her feet. The strap that felt so loose earlier now tightened around her toes, and the foam seemed to glue itself to her soles.
"What? Nooooooo!! GET OFF MY FEEEEET!!" She screamed.
The flip flops seemed to become heavier and heavier, and she could not raise her feet from the ground. Her small denim skirt unbuttoned itself, and slid down, stopping at her knees. Once there, it pulled itself tight around her knees, pinning her legs together. Her strappy top did the same thing and pulled itself over her head and arms, stopping at her wrists and wrapping tightly around her. It lifted her arms above her head, and once again Marie was trapped and tied by her own clothes, her skin helplessly exposed.
She looked back down at the key, only to see it in the hand on one of a pair of black lace gloves, being held between thumb and forefinger. The other glove waved a finger in a 'no no...' way, and they floated back up the stairs with the front door key.
Marie screamed out loud at what she saw next.
From the corner of the walls, dozens of pairs of thin lacy gloves walked on all fingertips down the stairs towards her. She saw stockings, seemingly being worn by invisible legs walking from all the rooms, and down the stairs towards her. Gloves were now floating slowly down the stairs, and the stockings stepped slowly, seductively, and purposely towards her.
"Nonononono...aaahhhh!! GET AWAY!! Nooooooo!!"
Before she could say another word, one of the thirty or forty pairs of gloves floated up to her face and clamped over her mouth, muffling her screams. More gloves crawled up her body. A pair held her firmly at the ankles, and her flip flops left her feet, walking away. A pair of gloves removed the skirt that had bound her, which floated away. The skirt filled itself out with an ample bottom and slipped itself over a pair of stockings, making an invisible lower body that walked menacingly towards her.
More gloves crept up her thighs, each touch seemingly more deliberate. The gloves were silky smooth and incredibly thin, but they felt like real hands.
Further up her body, up her sides and to her armpits. Two pairs on each breast. Up her arms, holding her wrists in place while her top flew off and joined the dress, and stockings, making an almost human figure.
The gloves waited for a minute, heightening the anticipation. Then slowly, movement...Marie jumped at the slow light wriggle of the fingers all over her.
The movement became more deliberate, slowly building up into a full tickle. Then BANG--every glove on her body tickled her at full velocity. What seemed like hundreds of fingers were probing, poking, wriggling and tickling at every exposed inch of Marie`s body. Marie screamed with horror under the gloves which held her mouth shut. She couldn`t move a single muscle, and even her head which was being held in place by gloves.
And they kept coming. Soon, she was completely covered in delicate lace gloves of all colours. Only her eyes and nose were exposed. All she could do was breath and look in terror at the living stockings which filled her staircase.
Only her sensitive soles were not being tickled, as she was stood firmly on the ground...but not for long. She felt herself being hoisted easily into the air, a foot from the ground. Many pairs of gloves seemed to crawl from the seething tickling mass she was covered with, moving to her feet. They tickled and played with her soles, pinching her toes, and moving fingers in between each toe.
It was too much for Marie to handle; she felt insanity about to take over. She peed herself again and again, crying out hysterically, but she couldn`t do a thing. All she could do was feel the intense tickling and endure it.
The gloves wouldn`t stop. What seemed like hours passed, and the tickling continued, over and over and over. Marie was covered in a wriggling mass of tickling gloves, which kept her prisoner for hours while they probed and stimulated her entire body with unbearable and professional tickling.
After what seemed like most of the day, the sensations began to slow a little, becoming lighter and lighter. Soon, the tickling stopped, but the gloves still kept a tight hold of Marie. She was gasping and whimpering under her silky gag, and her legs were shaking uncontrollably.
The gloves left her body, and floated away to some other room. Only two pairs remained. One pair slipped themselves onto her wrists, and forced her arms down. The other pair held tight to her ankles. A remaining glove kept her mouth closed.
She was held firmly by the gloves viewing the living stockings, which seemed to become excited. The toes of each stocking began to wiggle, and the nylon legs swished against them selves. One pair walked over to Marie, and rubbed up and down her leg, the foot wiggling around her calf. The gloves then picked her up, hoisted her into mid air onto her back, while the living stockings slipped themselves easily onto her legs. The gloves slipped out of the top, and the stockings held her in place.
She began to float up the staircase, over the dozens and dozens of pairs of living stockings, all which were very dirty, smelly, and seemed to be worn by shapely invisible legs. She was floated into her bedroom, and placed on the floor. The gloves slipped onto her hands, and held her arms out by her side, making her fingers do tickle movements on their own.
Her stocking captors made her walk over to her bed and lie down on it, spread-eagled out.
The other pairs of well-worn stockings walked in behind her, and at least 15 pairs climbed onto the bed. They placed themselves at strategic points around her body, the dirty, smelly soles of each stocking resting lightly all up her legs, across her pelvis, over her tummy, on her sides, and at least 4 pairs wiggled their incredibly stinky feet parts inches from her face...
Another pair encircled her wrists like tentacles and tied themselves tight before tying their other ends to the bedposts. The stockings on her legs slipped easily off, wrapping around her ankles, and stretched to tie themselves onto the posts at the foot of the bed. Marie was free to move, and she struggled against her bonds while the stocking feet that rested on her pushed her down every time she tried to sit up. The knots were too tight anyway...
Marie was gagged again by more unwashed nylons, this time a particularly sharp tasting pair from the bottom of the basket. Who knows how long they had been there...
Then, with the taste of her own feet filling her mouth and the scent of her worn nylons filling her nose, the stockings reared themselves inches from her exposed body, and the toes began to excitedly wriggle...