As she walked away in agony, a pair of nylon hose was left dangling over the ceiling. Who could have done that? Amanda didn't have time to figure that out, her head was in certifiable distress. She was losing herself, the nylon taking control of her mind more each moment. She tried to shake the visions, the horrible fantasies off but they returned. Soon she feared they would overcrowd her and her very identity would start to disappear, lost in a gently nylon embrace. She imagined herself as a nylon drone, clad in pantyhose and embracing her craft as she rubbed her legs all over all the cute boys and girls she came across, until they were only nylon too and had lost their identities to this fabric and the world was swallowed up by a lone cloth. In this image she saw her faceless self, a head of pure nylon without a sleigh of resistance or hint of self, and the horror of being both a mute selfless thing and a beautiful objectified mass hit her full fold. The complete surrender, the utter fear dripped with laces of pleasure, the terror inside and yet being unable to scream. She wanted it, yet she hated it! But she wanted it so badly. Her emotions were like being swallowed into a blackhole, slowly sucking more and more of her existence away into a sweet silky lure the further they stretched along into eternities embrace.
Like a zombie she moaned and walked towards the hung hose slowly, feigning resistance still in her mind but reaching her hands out towards it anyway. Her hands swatted inches away from the territory of her purest desire, the source of all her anxiety and greatest fear. In the next moment alone she knew her fate would be decided.
