You make your way towards the panties, being able to determine the striped white-blue fabric in the darkness. Bea would sometimes show them off in the images she sent to you, but it was never the focus. You drooling over her underwear was never as appealing as your foot obsession. She would much rather have you sniffing her socks rather than panties, but fortunately, she was asleep now, unable to complain about it not being “as fun” for her. 

Approaching the opening where her thick leg would usually slide into, you lift the edge. It is surprisingly heavy, like lifting a well-made weighted blanket. After a few strong pushes, you manage to make an opening for yourself, sliding snuggly into the cozy interior. 

You are now in near complete darkness, only a few rays of the weak computer light piercing through the cotton. Settling down, you are bombarded by the smell of something sweet. The mixture of the cleaning detergent and Bea’s womanhood is almost intoxicating. Inhaling the tangy sweet smell, you find yourself getting more and more comfortable inside this erotic blanket fortress.  

Grabbing the warm fabric and pressing it against your face, you begin slowly stroking your cock. You imagine Bea waking up, looking down at you, and laughing at what a perverted little bug you are. You continue masturbating furiously, taking deep breaths of the cotton as its scent soaks into your nostrils. Finally, you blow your load, your semen mixing with Bea’s sweat and squirt.

With your heart still racing, you try to calm yourself. You grab together some of the fabric and fold it into a makeshift pillow. Resting your dizzy head against it, you yawn, snuggling against your goddess’ underwear and drifting into sleep.

Waking up with a smile, it takes you a moment to recollect what happened last night. When you finally snap back to reality, the distant thudding becomes apparent to you. It sounds like heavy artillery is going off in the distance. Poking your head from within your tent, you are met with the horrible realization that each explosion is merely the sound of Bea’s chubby soles smacking against the wooden floor. 

She is awake, lazily walking around her room and collecting things she needs for college while letting out many deafening yawns. Her long, ebony legs appear like some huge pillars, with the woman looking like an ancient depiction of a fertility goddess. You try to gaze up at her face, yet find it obstructed by her large chest and thick thighs from the low angle. 

Bea’s creamy soles continue pounding against the hardwood floor, sending tremors throughout the apartment and forcing you to crawl on all fours. Seeing her walk at your size is almost surreal. It is as if she is moving in slow-motion, yet at the same time covers miles in mere seconds. 

You return to your tent of guilty pleasure, thinking about what to do next. Should you cry out for help? Would she even notice you? The thought alone fills you with dread. Even if you ever manage to get back to your true size, she will never let you live it down.