Swamp Shoot, Part Three:  Christi in the Closet

by Tannen Scheer

After witnessing Bonnie's transformation in the drawing room, Christi panicked and ran up the large stairway to the second floor of the swamp witch's house. She ran into the first room she found, and closed the door behind her. As she calmed down somewhat, she realized that running to the second floor wasn't the best plan for getting away from the witch and out of the house. But maybe there was still some way. She saw a window next to a large black canopied bed. Maybe that would provide an exit.

"Yes!" she whispered loudly as she saw a white, ivy-wrapped trellis extending from the window to the ground, near a bed of large, beautiful flowers. Christi opened the window, sat on the sill, and placed a nyloned foot on the trellis' first rung. Almost immediately, she felt the ivy's green tendrils wrap tightly around her silky ankle.

"What the . . ." she wondered, as she saw more of the ivy snaking its way up the ladder to continue capturing its lovely prey. At first she thought it was only holding her until the witch found her, but then she looked to the ground and saw a horrible sight. The tall flowers had parted, revealing a bubbling pool of black mud. The mud puddle's middle formed what appeared to be slimy, slurping lips, opening and closing, just at the base of the green vine. Now Christi took another look at the flowers, and saw they had a familiar shape: two bud-like protrusions near the top of the long stem, a small patch of moss at its middle, and the lower half of the stem had familiar colors and design, most tan shaded, a few black and white, and one even had a red netted pattern.

Christi realized what was happening. The ivy planned to pull her into that muddy maw, and she would be transformed into one more lovely flower, just as several women before, obviously wearing various shades of pantyhose, had been transformed before. The ivy was tightening, but Christi was still able to reach the night stand near the bed, and grabbed a large nail file. After a couple of misses, the pretty brunette finally stabbed the ivy with the file, and the vine let out a shrill scream, but loosened its grip on Christi's ankle. One more stab, and it let go completely, retreating back down the trellis.

Christi quickly pulled her leg inside and shut the window. But then she heard someone coming up the stairs. The ivy's scream and the slamming window had no doubt alerted the swamp witch. Christi looked around for a place to hide. Maybe under the bed, although her ample (and exposed) bosom may present a problem. And if the witch looked there, she would be at the hag's mercy.

The pantyhose model saw only one other option: the closet. She rushed in and pulled the closet door closed, just as the bedroom door opened. That's when the young beauty heard an ominous chant:

"Fee Fie Fo Fum - I smell the scent of a hose-covered bum!" An old voice cackled. Christi had escaped the ivy, but her problems were far from over. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" This time the witch sounded like Glinda in the Wizard of Oz. But Christi knew that she was not a good witch.

"I'll wager you're under my bed, my pretty," the witch guessed. "I could bend down and look, but I have a better idea." Suddenly, Christi heard the sound of wind beginning in the room. The last time she had heard that noise was when the witch cast a spell that had dissolved all of the models' clothing - except their pantyhose. Christi cracked the closet door just an inch to see what as happening.

The swamp witch had raised her arms, and her two pale bony arms extended as she intoned: "Oh Midas magic from days of old - seep under this bed, and turn all to GOLD!" Now a yellowish mist came out of the witch's fingertips, and drifted directly under the bed. After a few moments, it retreated and returned to the witch's hands.

The swamp witch fetched a long pole from a corner of the room, and swept it under the bed. First a pair of golden socks rolled out. Then a gilded shoe. Then came a small animal with a long tail. The witch bent down and picked up the now solid gold mouse. "A lovely trinket for my dresser," she said, setting the figurine down on the wooden surface. "Too bad there was no pantyhosed statue for my entryway."

Christi closed the door, and looked quickly around the closet. All she could see were black gowns and cloaks, and racks of black boots and shoes. Apparently this was the witch's room, and the witch's closet. She couldn't hide behind the cloaks - her tan and shiny knees and shins would show from underneath them. She moved to the back of the closet. Maybe the witch would take only a cursory look in the closet, and not notice her quarry crouched in the back.

But when she leaned against the back wall, she felt something give way a little. It was a door, and it was open. This could be a break. The witch might forget this secret closet was back here, and Christi would be out of sight. It was her only hope.

Christi moved inside the inner closet and closed the door. It was very dark, and as Christi moved her hands in front of her to avoid knocking something over, she felt something very soft, and light, and wavy touch her fingers. She soon realized it was nylon she was touching, just like her own pantyhose. For some reason, the witch kept a secret room filled with stockings and pantyhose. Christi speculated that other young women had falled into the witch's clutches, and this was probably where she stored their lingerie after she had performed some evil magic.

But as Christi stood silent, listening for the witch in the outer closet, she began to hear a moaning. It started soft, but grew louder and more distinguishable. The noise was actually words, and the words were unmistakably "join us" - "join us." The voices were both imploring and seductive, and Christi was growing more frightened. Something was going on in here, and while she didn't want to alert the witch of her presence, she had to see who was talking. She felt for a light,and found a small cord overhead. She pulled the cord, looked around, and gasped.

The room was indeed filled with stockings and pantyhose, attached to small hangers or just dangling from wall hooks. There were all different shapes and sizes, from black fishnet tights to sheer red nylon bodysuits. But it wasn't the styles that made Christi gasp. It was the fact that in each pair of nylon wear, there was the imprint of a woman's face, eyes blinking, and lips moving, mouthing the words "join us."

As Christi tried to back away from the lingerie, it started to change. Some of the stockings formed hands inside that stroked Christi's breast with a nylon smooth touch. Other hosiery formed a foot at their base, and reached out to Christi's nylon sheathed behind to give a quick rub.

Christi soon realized that these nylons did not belong to earlier victims - these nylons WERE the earlier victims. She quickly found the door, opened it, and ran into the regular closet - and right into the arms of the swamp witch!

The model screamed and struggled, but the old hag held on tight. "I see you've been visiting some of my nylon children? And they seem to like you, my dear. Well, I don't like to disappoint my lingerie. . ." Holding Christi firmly with one hand, the witch unfastened the snaps on the front of her black cloak. "In you go, my lovely," the old woman cackled, and pulled the pantyhosed brunette inside her cloak. First the girl's head and chest went inside, then her waist and thighs. Soon, most of Christi was covered by the black cloak, and finally the young model's kicking nyloned feet disappeared inside as well. The old witch cackled and laughed, and the large lump that was Christi fought and struggled to free herself from her black prison. But something was happening to the girl. Her fighting diminished, and did her size. The large wiggling lump became smaller and smaller, fainter and fainter, until there was no lump, and no more struggling.

The witch opened her cloak, and this time whe pulled out a pair of tan pantyhose, the same shade that Christi had been wearing. But now, the pantyhose was wearing Christi. The witch held up the sheer, free flowing garment, and saw the imprint of Christi's face just above the gusset of the pantyhose.

"Lovely, just lovely," the swamp witch commented. She carried her newest acquisition into the small inner closet, and hung Christi carefully on a small plastic hanger. As the witch turned off the light and walked out of the inner sanctum, she smiled as she heard the hosiery's chant change from "join us" "join us" to "Welcome. Welcome."

"Three down," said the witch, "and three to go."

-To be continued.

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