Wrapped up in misfortune? Spin it all away!

The results of removing the weight of calamity

Anon #806 was, for lack of kinder terms, having an absolutely miserable day. What had been a normal week had piled up with calamity after calamity that piled up into an unbearable weight upon his mind. Now, he found himself walking the woods in a stupor and trying in vain to clear his mind of the dark cloud that hung above him, threatening to drop even more misfortune on his head like a guillotine. The day reflected the turmoil within; sky blackened with a dour thunderhead that grumbled with a building storm and ripped through the canopy of tress with violent gusts that screamed with unmitigated fury. Fall had come, and the weather did little to alleviate Anon's mood.

Anon buried his face into the high collar of his coat, hoping to shield his face from the harsh wind. Maybe wandering the forest in a gale wasn't the smartest mood, but it was better than stewing in his room. Mottled leaves scattered past him as he walked down the path, each step leading down a route that became more and more untrodden. The forest crowded in as he went, and shadows grew darker. However, the storm above became more and more muffled the deeper he went, the canopy too thick for it to penetrate, and he found the increasing calm a shelter. The path by now was little more than a dirt trail that petered out to a small round clearing. On a particularly gnarled tree before him, Anon found two paper dolls sitting atop a burl on the tree. That darkness here felt deeper and more threatening, and what was once a sanctuary began to disturb him. He went to turn away and head back down the path, but turning he saw that what he had followed was no longer there.

Anon froze, panic setting in as his mind retraced the no-longer existent path here. It was impossible. Completely impossible. Shakily, he took a step toward where he thought he came from, hoping that somehow he'd find the path again, but his left foot didn't follow his right that had stepped forward. In fact, he nearly tripped as his boot caught on what he thought was a root. It wasn't until he looked down that he found this wasn't the case.

What was wrapped around his foot was a ribbon, red and thick and bordered with white frills and most importantly wrapped around his foot and snaking under a matting of dead leaves to some length unfathomably far away. Anon tugged and it gave slightly before it tugged back. He yelped out in shock, his leg firmly pulled back to the forest floor. His tongue sparked with pain as he realized he bit it when the surprise hit and he screwed his eyes shut; another result of his bad luck. A sensation of tightening about his calf called his attention downward once more, watching in horror as the ribbon coiled up his leg at a glacial pace, slowly but surely making its way to his thigh. Anon made to undo it, reaching down to try to pry it off and moving his other foot for better balance. At least, that was his intention.

His other leg stayed firmly planted despite his second attempt to raise it and he found that the calamity that befell him occurred again. Another ribbon, or perhaps the same one, wrapped up his leg even further than the first. Anon's attention flipped from one issue to the other before instinct over-came indecision and he went to rip it off. However, the ribbons had another idea. In a display or supernatural strength, Anon was spun around by the cloth that ensnared him, arms flailing wildly in a desperate attempt to keep upright. However, their movements were soon arrested and the horrifying sensation of constricting became known around his wrists. Anon realized he was now facing the paper dolls and ,more concerningly, more ribbons coiled around the boughs of trees restrained his arms and forced him to keep them spread. He struggled, twisting this way and that as they continued their slithering across his body, only to find his feet roughly bound tightly together in a sudden movement.

Now struggle was almost impossible from the waist down, which was unfortunate considering that his restraints were now quickly wrapping his mid-section up in their tight embrace. The ones on his arms were already to his shoulders, though they seemed content to let the ribbons from the floor the kill. By now, Anon had the morbid thought that he looked like some serial killer's art project. Destined to die by suffocation in impossible circumstances, such was his luck. A heavy, dark feeling settled in his chest as the ribbons covered it in their frills, worming their way up at an increasing pace in anticipation of the kill.

He tried shouting and crying out for help; hoping beyond hope for somebody to come help. The despair growing in his chest, however, knew the truth as the sentient cloth wrapped around his throat. He began to feel the fabric caressing his cheek and he screamed out in a last ditch effort only to be silenced as it covered his head completely. Now Anon was little more than a morbid present held up in the heart of a forest. The ribbons squeezed and constricted his body uncomfortably in ways that made him squirm. Notably, the effort around his waist was particularly forceful, and he was forced to expel air violently every tighter contraction. It seemed content to kill him slow, but he couldn't even struggle enough to rustle the leaves beneath him. The darkness in his heart grew larger, budding with a resignation to fate. Disturbingly, the squeezing around his thighs felt... good. The horrible mix of doom and pleasure made Anon sickened with himself.

His throat was being massaged in much the same way as his thighs, and his groans against the cloth covering his mouth became higher and higher pitched with each squeeze. Surely a result of the continuing deprivation of air. Though, by now it was taking an awfully long time to actually snuff Anon out. The ribbons around his hips and thighs felt tighter and tighter, and he found it hard to deny the idea that the ones working upon his behind felt particularly arousing. A sort of frustration built up, and he wished it'd either be done or let him go. Both options would allow him to escape the strange humiliation. The dark in his chest started changing, a center with the shadow lightening to a more grumbly gray like the thunderhead far above. Something about the situation didn't seem so grave considering he wasn't dead yet. The feeling, however, also welled. His chest tightening with the feeling of change (both emotional and physical).

It could also be that the ribbons around his chest started feeling tighter in much the same way as the one around (his now shapely) legs felt, beginning to dig into the softening flesh. A regained hope blossoming in his blossoming bosom urged him to struggle. To twist this way and that to escape this misfortune. To... spin. Counter-clockwise, even. The sudden thought's strangeness nearly took him out of the situation entirely, but the mind reasoned it as some form of intuition. The ribbons had coiled around anon in a particular way, hadn't they? Clockwise in a spiral. Even now, he could imagine himself as he appeared from the outside; wrapped up in a spiral like a Morning Glory right before bloom. Not even the itching of the frills against the sides of his face and neck (in reality it was his lengthening hair) could distract him from the thought. Of course, his mind, as unaware as it was, couldn't imagine the way his now wide waist tapered down to his bound together slender legs like a spinning top. The lighter feeling, that growing and brightening hope, pushed the misfortune-laden despair in his chest outwards despite the increasing feeling of the cloth digging into his skin. It felt.. good; great even.

Anon let out a squeak from beneath his bondage in pleasure. He interpreted the feeling as the growing sensation of positivity, of luck, flowering in his chest. In reality, it was the groping of the constricting ribbons massaging his bound cleavage that, had it not been wrapped tight, would reflect the profoundly large feeling of hope that dwelled within. The sounds of struggle resumed, his panting (surely only out of effort) sounding out as he tried to spin. The ribbons around his arms strained against his movements, but felt looser than before. The newfound slenderness of his limbs probably helped his escape too. This (and other sensations) elicited a breathy exhale of joy and he twisted his body more and more. Against the ribbons, against the spiral of curses that befell Anon. Even now, the ribbons on his waist and chest started to loosen (though more so due to their inability to contain Anon's now prestigious curves). The feeling in his chest was now nearly bursting out from it; mimicking the way his huge breasts were now nearly bursting out of his shirt-turned-blouse.

The feeling spread, the misfortune pushed to the corners of his body as the rest filled with that giddiness that comes from surviving an existential crisis. The ribbons strained, some tearing and snapping while others loosened and fell limp to the ground. Just one more tug! The feeling of hope was so overwhelming it clouded the mind in a high stronger than any drug. Just one more twist and she'd be free! Just one more spin and Hina would...! The remaining ribbons sundered in thunderous snapping, louder than anything the storm could produce as branches and cloth snapped and misfortune was spun out into the surroundings of the newly blossomed woman.

Kagiyama Hina stumbled over herself before steadying. Lucky that she didn't trip considering how dark it was in the forest, and at least it was merely a root she caught her boot on instead of something like a man-eating Mandragora. She readjusted he ribbons and sighed with satisfaction. Something about today was incredibly pleasant, and she couldn't help but smile. The weather was perfect for a Summer day; not too hot and a gentle breeze reached even here to this deep part of the forest. A smile had graced Hina's face the entire day, and she had decided it was the perfect day to look for Nagashi-bina dolls. Plus, it'd be nice to stop by the river. However, a strange sight stopped her in her tracks.

Two paper dolls sitting on the burl of a particularly gnarled tree. Bizarre, but perhaps it was merely a portent of good luck? Hina wouldn't complain either way, and snagged the dolls without questioning it. The misfortune goddess continued on her way, the glory of a great day swelling in her heart and humming a song.

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Pub: 05 Mar 2024 07:56 UTC
Views: 825