Continue feeding

Without hesitation Margarete's face made a second encounter with her shoe. "What the?! Get off of me!", she muttered while having a hard time keeping her mouth free. The ghostly weren't exactly keen on the idea of stopping and increased their force on the right leg pushing the shoe even harder in Margarete's face. This however gave her an opening to break free by suddenly grabbing the right leg, throwing it aside and redirecting the push and the ghostly legs came to a fall beneath the sink. She imidiately ran up to the door grabbed the key from the inside and ran out, where she shut the door, closed it and snapped the key. You could hear the legs kick against the closing door as it shut. "What am I going to do now? Call the cops?", Margarete rambled infront of her open shoe closet. Some of them fell out, this wasn't making her any happier. "Well if they hear this story no matter what, I am somewhere else at the end of the day", she concluded. There was still noise emitting from the bathroom. "Is it mad? Are they? Whatever," Margarete asked herself. How would someone react in this situation, confronted by a ghostly face stepper. Margarete continued sorting in her precious shoes. Her dire situation didn't change her obsession. "But it didn't felt that bad.. just weird", Margarete added. Conflicted with a thought locking in 2 of her favourite things in the world, tights and shoes, obviously in for some playtime like she used to do to some clueless men.

Before she could finish her debate however, the bathroom door magically unlocked itself and slammed open. In the door frame stood the tights, all wet. They must have tried out the bathtub. Also several bottles of nail polish, lipstick and other makeup items rolled out of the bathroom into the room. The lights inside were out, so Margarete got at least spared burden of seeing the display of the mess, the magical clothing left her behind. The tights stepped out menacingly. Margarete, dropped a pair of red mary janes, started to backaway. This sherade went on for 2 minutes until Margarete found herself backed up against her desk. The ghostly legs stood 9 feet in front of her and slowly begann closing the distance, with a cat walk. Margarete tried to think of a fast to escape them, but when she eventually came up with the solution she felt numb in her feet and frozen in place, her own legs wouldn't cooperate anymore. While all of this was happening a bottle of black nail polished rolled up to the desk started to paint her toenails. The tights stopped their approach as they watched the nail polish finishing their work on thetoenails. She didn't know what to make out of it. Margarete's legs forced her to knee down. With one shoe removed the ghostly left leg was pushed in her face. Margarete was clearly overwhelmed by the situation. She couldn't decide if she enjoyed the smell of wet and sweaty tights or if she should be disgusted. When the tights were finished with their "feeding" they pressed Margarete on the floor with some force. She caught the fall with her hands, but exactly there she realised her mistake, when the bottle of nail polish started to paint her right hand. There was no point in ressisting any further.