The disco lights were splashing their bright colors everywhere. I began to feel tired. Maybe it was the crowded dance floor, or the fact that I’ve been dancing almost non-stop for the past 4 hour.
I stopped by the bar and got myself a drink before heading for a table. On my way, close to the dancing floor, amidst the crowd, that tall, redhead gal winked at me. I returned the smile, found an empty table and collapsed on the chair. I put my face between my hands, and tried to suck some more energy. It was 02:00.
“Hi” she said, or rather yelled to cover the loud music. I raised my head in surprise. There she was, the redhead one, leaning over the table.
“Oh.. hi”, I said, a little embarrassed by how tired I looked before realizing that she was still standing there… waiting.
“Uh… Please, sit down. My name is Pete.”
“Hello Pete. I’m Karen, and although I gladly accept your invitation to sit at your table, I must decline.” she said while waving at her pants.
I had to blink my eyes a few times to fully understand, or is it to appreciate, what I was looking at. She was wearing the tightest pair of blue jeans I have ever seen. No wonder she wouldn’t sit. The seams would have split open. The jeans were tight from the waist to just over the knee, then going straight down to what appeared to be 5 inches pumps.
I had to grab the table to hold myself otherwise I would have slipped on the floor. One drink too many, or just an awesome sight. Nevertheless, she laughed.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes” I answered, “just worn down. I think I should better go home”.
“Yeah” she said “You looked like hell. Where are you from?”
“Clear water district”.
“Wow! That’s almost a 2 hours drive… And you’re in no condition to drive.”
“Well, I’ll take the bus or a cab.”
“Sorry Pete, but it’s two in the morning. The busses are out, and a cab will cost you a fortune anyway. Why don’t you come to my place?”
I shook my head in disbelief.
“What? We just met and you’re inviting me to your place?”
“I’ve been looking at you for most part of the evening, and you seem to be a nice guy. I saw you tried with a few women, and each time you were turned down, you did not come back to harass them, so you seem trustworthy enough for me. And you wouldn’t be able to do much in your present state. And my place is in a very secure building.”
I was not in a state to argue. I agreed to her invitation and followed her. We walked about a block to her apartment building. Needless to say that I was behind her all the time… maybe a little deliberately. Seeing that tight butt rock from side to side in those tight jeans, barely lit with the street lights, her heels clicking on the concrete sidewalk. Boy, was I turned on, but as hard as I tried, that darn thing stayed as wobbly as if it was a stick of jell-o.
When we arrived, the building didn’t look more secure than any other building. When we reached her apartment, on the third floor… third floor. She took the staircases and I had to endure following her, looking at her butt straining those jeans to their breaking point with each and every step taken. I could almost hear the denim screaming to be released of all the tension. She had to lean from one side to the other so she was able to lift her leg enough to reach the other step. My brain was boiling.
Where was I. Oh yes, when we reached the third floor, she led me to her apartment. Once in, she quickly showed me the alarm system, and, although I’ve never seen any, she also told me that there were security cameras. It was not my intention to do anything to her. Right now, I just wanted to relax and go to sleep. I collapsed on the sofa. I was about to fall asleep when she got closer to me, rubbing her hands on her thighs, on her tight denim covered thighs.
“I think you like those, right?” she asked.
I didn’t answer. I slowly dropped on my knees and carefully started rubbing her buns and inside thighs.
“Ah yes. I knew you would fall for those. But we’re both too tired to do nasty things right now. But I do need to get off those, but alone, it’s very difficult. The zipper has this habit of jamming, you see and…”
She handed me a pair of needle nose pliers
“… you will have to help me. Take the pliers and pull the zipper down while I compress the sides.”
With my hands shaking, I pulled on the zipper. At first, it didn’t come, then, almost with a pop, it slid down. Her stomach rushed out, and once done, I sincerely wondered how she got them closed off.
“Thanks a million, darling.” she said, while small steps walking to the bathroom. I heard the shower slightly after that and fell asleep.
The smell of coffee woke me up. It took me a few minutes to realize where I was: Karen’s place. I stretched my arms, and the smells of the night came haunting me. I must have made a funny face, because Karen, who was sitting a few feet away, laughed.
“Good morning,” she said. “Or should I say good afternoon. It’s almost 16:00 (4pm). Wishing to take a shower?”
“First door on your left” she said. “Everything is ready. Your coffee will be waiting for you. What do you put in it?”
“Uh?… Oh, nothing. I take it black. Thank you.”
I stumbled to the shower. Boy, I needed that. I felt fresh and ready. She had provided me with a bathrobe. The first one of that kind I ever saw: it was made of what looked like fluffy denim. It was soft to the touch, and very comfy. My clothes were gone. I walked out. Karen was sitting on a stool, on the other side of the kitchen counter, facing me.
“Wow!” she said “you’re even more beautiful when you’re clean!”
I then noticed that she was wearing the same kind of bathrobe.
“Well… thanks.” I said, a little embarrassed.
“So, I can see the bathrobe is fitting you rather well.”
“Yes, seems to. Strange fabric though.”
“At first glance, I would say yes. What is it?”
“It’s plush denim. One of my inventions. I’m a fashion designer.”
“Really? Cool. But I wouldn’t want to be intrusive. I really thank you for the night, but I think I should go back home now.”
When she rose up from the stool I could see that, underneath her bathrobe, she was wearing some kind of tight catsuit, ending with 4 inches heels mules. The suit also appeared to be made out of denim, but stretchable.
“Not so fast, honey. Your clothes are in the washing machine, so unless you’re willing to go out with my bathrobe, or wearing women’s clothes, you’ll have to wait. And as a matter of fact, I need your help.”
“My help? For what?”
“I told you I was a fashion designer. What I haven’t told you is that I’m a very specific women’s fashion designer. I make everything out of denim, and almost everything with a very tight fitting cut. The bathrobe is within the almost category.” she said pointing at her own robe.
“So, why do you need me for? You just said that you were a women’s fashion designer, and… why me?”
She looked at me straight in the eyes.
“I’ve been looking for you for weeks. I’ve been browsing around dance clubs every Friday and Saturday nights in search of you. I’ve been watching you most of the evening yesterday. Every woman you approached were wearing tight jeans. Some tighter than the other, but nonetheless tight. Some went to dance with you, some didn’t. Every time, you acted like a gentleman, even when you were rather drunk at the end of the evening.”
“So, that gave me the indication that you do like women in tight jeans, and you’re not the kind to try to take advantage of those same women if they become… let’s say… vulnerable.”
“I…. I assume all this is a very nice compliment, but I don’t quite get it.”
“By the end of the day, you’ll do. Now, I trust you. All you have to do is trust me. I need a man strength and opinion. Don’t worry, you’ll get paid. All this for a few hours a week.”
“This is all rather strange and I don’t quite understand what’s going on. Perhaps some leftovers from yesterday. But as I stand here, in a bathrobe, not able to go out for the moment, I’d say, okay, let’s give it a try.”
She smiled widely. “You won’t regret it. Give me two minutes to prepare everything, and then come join me in the workroom.”
With that, she left to a door at the far right corner of her apartment. I heard some shuffling, things being moved, and finally, she called me. When I opened the door, the sight was stunningly strange. Denim was everywhere. Pieces here and there, hanging on the wall, racks of denim clothes including jackets, pants, jumpsuits, hats, some huge cutting and sewing machines in one corner, and Karen, standing close to a large couch in the opposite corner. She had laid out on the couch a few items. A pair of 7 inches heels platform shoes, a denim jumpsuit and something that looked like a denim hood. Apart from the (denim) underwear she was wearing, she was naked, and in the process of putting on elbow length denim gloves. She was struggling to get the fingers on. The room was quite cool and I shivered.
“Hi… I should have made them with stretch denim instead, they’re hard to pull… There. Now, this is where I’m going to need your help. Don’t worry about the cold. In a few minutes you’ll forget all about it.” she said while picking the jumpsuit.
It had a back zipper, and I started to understand the help needed thing when she started to put it on.
“You’ll never get this thing on” I said. “It’s much too small.”
“You’re wrong. I know I can. I just need a little help. Here. Come grab the suit and pull it up.”
I executed, and she squirmed like a worm, getting the legs on, centimeter by centimeter, while I pulled on it, almost lifting her off the ground. After close to 10 minutes of that strange dance, the crotch seam was as high as it would go. By then, I was glad the room was so cool. Karen too had been sweating a little, so I followed her instructions and applied a small amount of baby powder to her upper body.
She straightened her denim covered hands on her sides, slightly upward, and I started to feed in the sleeves of the suit. It was going to be a tough job. Again, centimeter by centimeter I pulled from the back, while she pushed as hard as she could. Once the shoulders reached their upper point, she let her arms down, panting.
“you’re crazy, you know that?” I said. “You’re never going to fit in that suit.
There’s almost a 3 inches gap at the back. How do you expect the two ends of the zipper will meet.”
With her arms and legs stiffed by the tight denim, she made a few steps to a table where she retrieved a strange looking device. It looked like a medieval torture device. It was a giant pair of pliers, with a plate on each end, at a right angle with the arms, covered with small pins. She put one plate on each side of her waist, facing the tool.
“You place this thing like that, of course, from the back side. The pins on the plates pinch the denim. Don’t worry, the body of the suit is double thickness in case you haven’t noticed. When you pull the handle, it brings along the two sides, getting them closer, The handle has a ratchet, so just a few clicks at a time are needed, and once done, it won’t loosen unless you push the release button. You’ll start at the bottom and get the zipper up.”
She undid the device and handed it to me.
“Now?” I asked?
“Well, I do not intend to wander around half dressed, mind you.”
I applied the device starting at the bottom of the zipper, just below her waistline. I slowly cranked the ratchet, and the two sides of the zipper came closer and closer. Karen was squirming to put everything in place while the compression pas taking place. I was able to move the zipper about 3 centimeters up at a time.
It took close to half an hour to get it fully up. When I reached her shoulders blade, she had me stop and picked up the hood. It had only small eyeholes, covered with dark lenses, and a slit for the mouth. The face looked like it had been molded, and I mentioned it to her.
“Yes, it’s molded,” she said. Another thing I invented, like the breast cups of the jumpsuit.
She instructed me to put the hood on her head, and close the zipper. There was a little amount of stretch denim in the fabric, so it would cling to her face. And it did. I pulled down the zipper, but when I reached the end, the handle stayed in my hand. I showed it to her, panicked.
“Don’t worry” she said “It’s made that way. I don’t want two bulky zippers resting on the back of my head. The suit zipper will do the same. The zipper won’t undo, it got a locking device on the last tooth.”
“Another one of your inventions?”
She smiled. I mean, I think she smiled, from what I was able to see through the hood.
Back to the suit, I pulled up the last few centimeters and, as she said, the zipper handle came off. She let out a sigh of relief. She walked around, moving her arms, lifting her legs, bending and twisting her waist and hips, turning her head in every direction. It was a stunning sight, and I quickly had a hard on… much quicker than the night before. She looked like a blue mannequin that you see in display windows. The only thing she said was “Wow! Even better than I imagined.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Better? You find this actually comfortable?”
“Oh yes” she said “and every step is a stimulation. The only thing missing is.. Ah, there they are. Would you?…” she said pointing at the platform high heels. “I definitely cannot bend to put them on, so a little help would be welcome.”
I grabbed the shoes, and while she steadied herself on a column with her hand, she raised her feet to slide it within the straps. She was barely able to move her leg high enough to do it. I secured the ankle T strap of one shoe before proceeding to the next. When I began to raise back upright, I couldn’t resist rubbing my hand at the back of her thigh.
“Oh, god!” she said, while throwing her head back. I removed my hand.
“Sorry” I said. ” I didn’t..”
“Don’t stop, you fool. Continue!”
I startled for a few seconds, and went back to my hand. I slowly raised it, starting from just over the knee, sliding up slowly, going back and forth around the back of her thigh. I could feel the tight denim, almost vibrating from the extreme tension it was enduring, and from the throbbing of Karen.
When I reached her waist, which was now very tiny, and highly compressed, I put myself in front of her, and put one hand on each side of this now stiff and compressed body. I could feel the boning inserted between the double layers of denim, making it a built-in corset while slowly sliding my hands up. She had her arms up in the air, leaning back to the column. When I reached her breasts, I took care not to go over them, but she grabbed my hands and put them directly on them.
“Ah… come… come oooonnn. You know whaaaaat to do… Don’t be… so.. pruuuude.”
I rubbed her breasts, went to her shoulders, slowly rubbed her cheeks, before going behind her, and slowly making my way down, placing one hand on each legs, sliding them slowly all the way down to her high heeled feet.
She was panting heavily. The way her torso was compressed, it was highly understandable.
“You’re okay?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m fine” she managed to say between two breathes. “I trained to be able to do that… Wow. That suit feels wonderful!” She said while making a few tentative steps.
She had to learn to walk again. The denim was so tight, and rendered her so stiff, that when she moved one leg forward, the whole side of the body was following, and she almost had to rock from one side to the other like a robot to make tiny steps.
“It does not appear to be very comfortable… although it’s an awesome sight.” I said.
“Everything is comfortable when you draw pleasure from it.” she said while turning around to face me. “Every step, every move I make stimulates me, but not only at the crotch or the breasts, but e-v-e-r-y part of the body. It’s like having a continuous total body orgasm. I wonder how it would feel with dildos… Maybe next time” she said with a wink. “Anyhoo, you better get ready, we’re going out tonight.”
“Huh? What? When? Where?”
“We’re going out to the dance club, tonight, at 20:30 (8:30pm), so in about 3 hours.”
I was confused. I was not expecting that. Come to think of it, I was not expecting anything specific.
“Okay… I guess. You want me to help you get out of it?” I said, pointing the suit.
“What? Are you nuts? I’ve planned this evening for weeks, and you suggest I would back-off? No way. I’m gonna spend the night in this. It’s going to be hell on earth, but I think I can manage.”
“You’re willing to go in this suit for 4 to 6 hours? I do hope you went to the bathroom first, because it’s gonna be really hellish if you have to go once at the club.”
“Don’t worry for me. I took a special pill that will control my body fluids for the next 8 hours, so I have plenty of time. Now, come with me. I have to get you dressed-up. You’re surely not going to wear that ugly thing you had last night.”
She led me to her bedroom. I made sure she was leading. Watching her tight body squirmed just to get forward turned me on more than I could imagine. As expected, everything was made of denim. From the bed sheets to the window drapes. She had laid on the bed a denim ensemble. A pair of jeans, denim shirt and denim jacket.
“They should fit you” she said “I made them while you were sleeping.”
The jeans were snug fitting, but stretchy. She said that she couldn’t risk making them too tight, so I wouldn’t be able to help her if she needed help. I needed my mobility. I was glad about that. If they would not have been stretched, my dick would have had no place to expand… and I wanted to enjoy the evening as much as possible.
The denim shirt was pretty classic, buttons at the front, long sleeves, chest pocket but It was made of very fine denim that almost felt like silk. The denim jacket was looking like an off the rack item.
“Yeah, I admit I copied the design of this one.”
Once dressed, she suggested I grabbed a bite, since I haven’t eaten anything for close to 24 hours. She had eaten low waste diet bars because she needed her stomach as empty as possible for obvious reasons. I fixed myself a nice dinner with steak and potatoes, then we were ready to go. I looked for her, and called her name.
“Here, in the bedroom. I need a hand.”
I came in. She was laying on her back, on the bed, not able to get up.
“I wanted to take a nap. Letting myself fall on the bed was easy. Getting up is another matter. Do you mind?..”
I leaned over her and grabbed her waist while she crossed her hands behind my neck and I pulled her upright. I would have lifted a piece of wood, it wouldn’t have made a difference. She was just as stiff. We were ready to go.
When we got out of the apartment, she gulped. We had three flights of stairs to walk down.
“Isn’t there an elevator?”
“Yeah” she sighed, “It’s been broken for a week. Well, let’s go…”
She took hold of the hand rail with her left hand and to me with her right one. She was barely able to split the legs enough to reach the next stairs, and the stiffness of the torso put her a little unbalanced.
“Maybe it would be easier if I carried you in my arms” I said when we reached the half-point of the first story. She thought for a minute.
“Maybe you’re right. Let’s try it.”
I tried to pick her up the gentleman’s way, one arm at her waist, the other at the knees, but she was so stiff, I would have picked up a log that it wouldn’t have made any difference, and all stretched out like that, she was too wide for the staircase. So I changed to the potato pouch method. She put her hands over my right shoulder, I picked her up just below the butt and lifted her a few centimeters off the ground. She bent her knees to get her feet out of the way.
So, I walked down 2 and a half stories of stairs, holding her tightly compressed denim covered butt in my arms, and feeling her corseted waist over my chest, looking at her high heels bounce up and down with each step. She was moaning. When I put her down at the ground floor I asked her if she was alright.
“Alright? Gee. I expected that suit to stimulate me, but not at that point. I had three orgasms on the way down… I look forward to the rest of the night… and after that” she said putting her denim covered hand over my hard dick.
We walked the distance to the dance club. I would have like to follow her, but she preferred to have me on her side, in case she was to collapse… which she almost did twice. Yeah, two more orgasms. I was beginning to feel left out.
We entered the dance club. Everybody looked at us. Men were pleased, and women were shocked. The question I was asked most often is how do you got her to wear this? They were surprised when I answered that she’s the one that actually asked for my help to wear it. They were giving me pats on the back, calling me lucky. Well, so far, my luck had been only to watch, and I desperately needed relief.
She dragged me on the dance floor, and we started to dance. She rubbed her body against mine, and couldn’t resist to rub my hands on her tight denim back and buns. Since she was unable to sit, we had to use a high stool so she could be almost standing up, but resting against it. I didn’t drink that much that evening. I wanted to remember everything. Vividly. A few times I went to the bathroom and almost started to satisfy myself, but I held it, hoping that I would have my chance with her.
Finally, by 01:00, she had enough, and I was ready to explode. I accompanied her back to her apartment. This time, she wanted to walk the stairs, and she did. I was ready to bang my head to the walls.
Once in her apartment, she invited me to her bedroom and asked me to help her remove the hood. She showed how to put the zipper handle back in place, and I undid the hood, releasing her red hair. She looked at me straight in the eyes.
“You’ve been very kind to me, Pete. I know I put you in many uncomfortable situations, but you always held it. You never tried to take advantage of me, and I was in a situation where you could have done anything. Now, I open the door. Is there anything I can do?
Without thinking twice, I pushed her on the bed, undid my jeans, laid down on her, rubbing my dick on her tight crotch. It took 6 strokes, and I was spewing the white goo everywhere, then I collapsed beside her.
“Oookay” she said “I guess I made you wait a wee bit too long, haven’t I.”
“I’ll make up for that.”
Whatever I thought. The wait was long, but worthed.
I helped her get out of the suit, which was a tough job. The seams were heavily imprinted on her skin, and her perspiration over the last 8 hours made the denim clung to her body.
We slept on the same bed, but no sexual intercourse was attempted. The next morning, after breakfast, she handed my original clothes, washed and ready.
When it was time for me to leave, she gave me a long, wet and juicy kiss and simply said: “You can come back anytime. But, bring some protection”. And she winked before closing the door.
Half an hour later I was back at her door with a big smile… and a box of condoms.
© Pete / monsterp63, June 2000.
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