Mason - Chapter 26 (Patreon)

On the journey towards Mikayla’s bedroom, Mason passed by the laundry room, and remembered that he had a load of clothes he had to move from his mini washer to his mini dryer. A pile of someone’s clothes was on the floor—Mason couldn’t tell if they were dirty or clean—and unfortunately, seemed to be blocking the platform where his tiny laundry machines were. That was exactly why Nicole had installed a platform for the machines a few years ago: to prevent giant clothes from blocking the washer and dryer (and to make it easier not to accidentally step on), but evidently it hadn’t been enough.

Staring with furrowed eyebrows at the heap obstructive heap, he approached the pile, determined to do his laundry anyway, when suddenly he heard a squelching noise from something he stepped in. In his surprised confusion, he flinched, instinctively trying to take a step back and see what he walked in, but his foot was stuck to the floor. Unable to help his physical reaction, he lost his balance and fell forward. He yelped in alarm, toppling onto his hands and partially landing in more of the sticky residue. With his face close to the floor, he could smell the synthetically sweet aroma of laundry detergent, and realized a few drops must’ve dried on the floor, too clear to notice but big enough to cause him to trip. “Shit,” he muttered, half of his body now stuck to the floor. Luckily, one of his hands had landed outside of the sticky stuff, so he used that to his advantage as he tried pushing himself off the tacky soap scum. It took him a few tries, but he was eventually able to escape, although his clothes (and some of his skin) were now covered with dried-up, gummy detergent. Why can’t I just have one day where nothing goes wrong? he thought, taking off his socks so he could even be able to keep walking. His shirt and pants came off too, as he decided he’d just throw it all in the wash after transferring his clean clothes to the dryer.

The platform with his laundry machines had a wide staircase built into the side, so he could easily carry baskets of clothes up and down. And it was mostly clear (other than an outstretched sleeve that didn’t pose much of an obstacle), but the strap of someone’s bra was laying across the middle of the staircase. Mason couldn’t tell who in the household the lingerie belonged to, but he figured it was either Mikayla or Skye, since Nicole was the most mindful of accommodating him. “It’s like they don’t even care about me,” he moodily grumbled to himself, glaring at the strap blocking his way, thicker than a ship’s rope from his perspective, and just as heavy. With his clothes under one of his arms, he used the other to angrily lash out at the strap in an effort to swat it out of the way. But part of his forearm was still sticky with residue, and although Mason was successful in shoving the bra strap side, he accidentally got his arm stuck to it, pulling him with it as it careened over the edge. “Oh, FUU—”

~

Elsewhere in the house, Mikayla was standing in the middle of her bedroom, her hands on her hips as she bit on her lips, perusing all the clothes in her closet. Getting rid of them was harder than she expected. She expected there would be more things that she hadn’t worn in a long time, but almost everything there was something she still liked to wear. Her closet only had so much space though, and if she was going to keep buying new things every once in awhile—which she absolutely had no plans of letting up on—then she’d have to say goodbye to more than just the jeans she’d ripped at work.

Maybe Mason can help, she thought, putting off the decision-making for a few minutes more. FaceTiming one of her friends would probably give her better answers, but most of them were probably at work or in class. And she was trying to spend more time with Mason anyways, still partially jealous of his connection with Skye despite their kerfuffle from the day before.

“Hey Mason, I need you for something!” She went back to the kitchen to see if he was still eating lunch, but the table was empty, so she looked around the dining room and living room instead. “Hey, where are you?” she repeated, freezing after every new call to see if she could hear his tiny voice. She checked the bathroom, his bedroom, inside his house, and all along the floors, but still no signs. She hated how often this happened, that she couldn’t find him; it was like losing her phone, if her phone was a tenth of its size, and could walk away from where she last left it, and also sometimes was out of the house without her even realizing. The last room she checked in was the laundry room, even going so far as to check inside the washer and dryer just for shits and giggles. “Where the hell are you, you freakin’ pip squeak?” she whispered.

~

Fortunately for Mason, his fall from the staircase was more of a nuisance than a real danger. Relative to his 3-inch height, the boy only fell a few feet, the bra straps hurtling him right into the middle of the massive cup. He landed on his back, positioned at a sort of 45 degree angle because of the way the bra was sitting on the floor. He was lucky not to have the wind knocked out of him, but the force of the fall had caused him to get restuck to the inside of the soft garment. Like someone slapping a sticky surface instead of merely touching it, the impact had negated any chance for air bubbles, which meant the surface area of bra-to-skin contact was maximized. His right hand and left forearm were stuck, along with the sides of his calves and knees which had twisted on their sides. Every limb was compromised. It was incredibly humiliating.

Unsticking himself from the floor had been possible because the ground had obviously been immovable. By contrast, the surface of the bra he was on wasn’t the same. The bra was multi-layered, with the inner lining made of a separate, softer material than the outer shell. So even though the lingerie as a whole wouldn’t move when he tried pulling his limbs away, the stretchy inside material clung to him, and he couldn’t reach far enough away to break free. It was like pulling up on a carpet; the floor itself doesn’t move, just the carpeting, but the carpeting is attached to the floor around the edges of the room. A normal sized person could pull the tensile inner material several inches away from the cupping before something broke away, but since several inches was the whole length of Mason’s attached body, he simply couldn’t create the distance needed to break free. If his unsticky hand was free, he could hold the fabric down while pulling his limbs away, but without some sort of counter weight, he was like a bug stuck in a spider’s web.

That being said, Mason was too stubborn to give up and admit defeat. Falling into a giant person’s undergarments was enormously embarrassing on its own, but not even being able to escape from it would make things ten times worse. So when he heard Mikayla start to call his name, he refrained from calling back, since he didn’t want her to find him in such a ridiculously compromised state.

Please, please please please don’t find me, he internally begged, hearing every single footstep, each of which raised the hairs on his arms and legs. It was times like this he told himself that 3 inches was actually the worst size a person could be, if there were a world where peoples’ heights varied more than Big and Small. If he were a foot tall, he never would’ve gotten into a stupidly humiliating debacle like this. And if he were an inch, then Mikayla might not even notice him if she did venture into the laundry room. But instead, he was the worst and most inconveniencing size to be, and his heart only raced faster as the minutes wore on, and Mikayla’s footsteps thundered gradually louder and shook his lingerie prison more and more. He thought of the scene in Jurassic Park where the kids hid from the T-Rex, the vibrations increasing to the point where they rattled the whole car (or in Mason’s case, the whole bra). Except instead of a dinosaur threatening to discover the children and eat them alive, it was an even bigger creature: a bratty and busty 22 year old girl who would undoubtedly laugh so hard that she couldn’t breathe, and would make sure to remind him about the time he got stuck in a bra for at least the next decade.

At last, the footfalls found their way outside the laundry room door, and Mason’s heart skipped a beat when he finally saw her. He silently, anxiously, watched as she took two steps forward, standing directly over him with her feet on either side of the pile, seemingly unbothered by the bundle of clothes. As she mumbled to herself, Mason’s eyes traveled up Mikayla’s legs, which were now dressed in a pair of white sweat shorts instead of her torn up jeans. Even from below, her thighs seemed so huge that he imagined himself popping like a grape between them, and their size made her ass even more impressive since the underside of her butt was pretty clearly visible from his voyeuristic perspective. Even her underwear was visible, the same familiar red thong from twenty minutes ago, and his eyes were as stuck to it as his body was to the bra.

Suddenly, Mikayla took a step back, figuring she should take care of her pile of clothes on the floor. And within a second, her eyes locked onto Mason’s, who lay sprawled out without any clothes on in the middle of her bra. She was genuinely speechless at first, and they both gawked at each other. “What are you doing?” she finally asked, “And why are you in your underwear?”

Mason knew how bad this looked, and his face was beet red (almost as red as the  underwear that Mikayla almost caught him looking at). “There was, uh… I tripped over a, um, a thing of detergent, I think. Or something sticky. So then it got my clothes dirty, like they were sticky too, so I took them off so I could wash them.”

He couldn’t read Mikayla’s face, but he could tell she was trying to judge how honest he was being. “Uh-huh. And now you’re in my bra because…”

“Cuz the strap was blocking my stairs! So when I pushed it out of the way, my arm got stuck to it and it made me fall over. You can’t just leave your clothes all on the floor like this!”

Hearing him get mad at her made it seem more clear that he was telling the truth, so she started laughing as she realized how long he must’ve been stuck there. “Are you really stuck?” she giggled, squatting down and pinching his body to test it out. When she pulled up, she watched the inside lining pull up with him, and even the cup that he was stuck in started to lift up beneath him. Seeing how screwed he was caused Mikayla to break into laughter again, and she dropped him back to the floor as she fell back on her butt, unable to stay balanced from how hard she was cackling. He tried protesting, but she couldn’t heard him over her aggressive giggling and high pitched commotion. By the time her laughter finally started to die down, she had tears in her eyes, which she wiped away as she toyed with his helpless body. “Ugh, how are you always this funny?” she sighed with a mischievous smile. “What if I hadn’t found you? Would you really just have been stuck here til someone else came home? What if nobody found you til it was time for dinner? You’d just be stuck in my bra for the entire day, huh?” Mason rolled his eyes, but didn’t have much ground to argue with her.

She scrambled to her feet, still giggling at Mason’s predicament, and hurried off to her room to grab her phone. As soon as she came back, the camera was in his face, as she took pic after pic like she was scared the opportunity would only last a moment. But of course, Mason wasn’t going anywhere. Not til someone else helped him out.

“This is gonna be the best thing on my story in months,” she excitedly announced, taking pictures of the trapped boy from every angle with every lens on her phone.

“Seriously?!” Mason exclaimed. He knew she had close to a thousand followers on Instagram, and even if he didn’t know the vast majority of them, he wasn’t keen on his predicament being shared for hundreds of people to laugh at. “This is your fault. I got stuck here because you didn’t clean up after yourself. Don’t be an asshole and share this with people!”

Mikayla had switched over to video now, since she thought his complaints would make the whole thing extra entertaining. “If I was an asshole, I’d share this on TikTok, cuz it’d definitely go viral. Like at least a million views.” The idea made Mason’s throat dry, imagining a million people seeing him trapped in someone's bra. That was like 20 stadiums worth of people, every single one of them looking straight at him and laughing at what happened. Even if 1% of them called him a pervert in the comments, that’d still be ten thousand strangers leering at how pathetic his situation was.

“No no no no no,” he begged, “please don’t. I’m serious Mikayla. This is so unfair.” Starting to cry, he viciously shook his body to try and escape, but nothing he could do would help, and it only made Mikayla laugh harder, since she was getting it all on video. “Do you want me to hate you more than I hate Skye?”

Mikayla was suddenly quiet, and she stopped recording, upset that Mason’s threat had gotten to her so easily. “I literally said I’m not gonna share it on TikTok, you don’t need to be a dick.”

“Well I don’t want you sharing it on your story either! I don’t want you showing anyone, they’re gonna think I’m being a creep.”

“Are you being a creep?” she asked with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes, “Fuck you.”

She sighed and put the phone down, crossing her arms as she looked down at his body, subconsciously trying to put on a domineering stature. “Tell you what. If you help me out with something, no questions asked, then… I’ll only share it on my Close Friends. Which is like, maybe 20 people.”

He didn’t respond at first, trying to think of what she might have in mind. “Why don’t you just tell me what it is?”

“Cuz it’s a surprise!” she groaned, exasperated over how fussy he always was. “Don’t worry, it’s not gonna be anything inappropriate, you weirdo.”

Glaring up at her, he felt disinclined to keep arguing, since he knew that ultimately, Nicole was the head of the house, and would have his back if he needed it. I can always just tell her that Mikayla blackmailed me if I really need to. “Okay fine. Now help me out of here.”

“No problemo!” she cheerfully answered, and held her thumb and pointer finger around his body as she grabbed his torso with her other hand. Holding the bra down, she plucked him off of it in barely a second, not even giving him a warning.

“Ow, fuck! You could’ve ripped my skin off.”

Mikayla chuckled at how such a tiny person could be such a big baby. “No I couldn’t, calm down. You said it was laundry detergent, not gorilla glue.” Carrying him over to the sink, she got the tips of her fingers wet and used them to stroke his arms and legs, washing the sticky soap off without getting his whole body soaked. At one point, she held onto him via his hips instead of his torso, so that she could rub his chest and back clean too. She knew he wouldn’t be sticky there, but with her thumb pad squarely positioned over his underwear, she was hoping to feel if he had an erection or not. Not very easy when his dick was literally millimeters in length though.

“Did I get it all?” she asked, setting him down and letting him dry himself on the counter as she found his little clothes that he’d dropped.

“I think so,” the boy muttered, wishing she could’ve just let him take a shower instead. Her head popped back up after a few moments, and she held her hand out again for him to climb on. “Can I get changed now?”

“Aww, I thought you said you were gonna wash your clothes since they had residue on them,” she grimaced, pivoting around to take him to her bedroom. “I put them in the washer while you were drying off.”

“Yeah I did, but I can still—”

“Okay then cool!” she cut him off, purposefully keeping him from getting a change of clothes in his room. “I’ll set a timer on my phone as a reminder for when to switch them to the dryer.”

“Thanks, but I’m still cold cuz oh hey, look at that, I’m not wearing any clothes,” he sassily bit back.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I have enough blankets for you to drown in.”

Arriving at her room, she set him down on her bed, grabbing one of her blankets to nestle him into. “Why are you so determined to not let me wear any clothes?” he challenged her.

Without even taking a beat, she immediately replied, “Why are you so scared of me seeing you in your underwear? I walk around without pants on all the time. Cuz this is my home, and that’s what people do in their homes.” Mason stared at her, realizing that even logic and pseudo-shaming Mikayla wouldn’t work against her. “You’re not going anywhere til you help me like you said you would,” she continued. “Anyways. Like I said when I got home, I’m trying to do some spring cleaning and get rid of some clothes. But I kinda like most everything I have, so I need a second opinion.” Grabbing some examples from her bed, she held up a skimpy looking crop top and a pair of ripped jean short shorts, a preview of what was to come. “So I’m gonna try some stuff on for you, and I want you to tell me what looks good or not.”