Only the lights in one small lab, on the third floor of the Textile Research Institute were lit. No one else would stay that late, especially a stormy night like that. Lightning was striking in the horizon, and more than once, the lights flickered.
In the room, Karen was working hard, mixing different chemicals and testing it by dipping a piece of textile in it. The sounds of the room were a mix of boiling solutions, oven fans, and the almost constant tapping of her high-heeled shoes. A beeping was heard, and she swiftly turned around, revealing under her white lab coat, a tight fitting denim catsuit. The suit had been cut to measure to encase her large breast, embrace her small waist, and hug tightly her hips and legs.
She smiled, and rushed to the device that announced that the time was up. She wiggled her way, taking small steps on her white platform shoes. She opened the door of the boxy device and retrieved a piece of denim tube, roughly 12 centimeters circumference and 4cm long. She slid it over her first two fingers and waited. After less than a minute, the tubing began to contract and tightly enveloped her two fingers. She smiled even wider. She flexed her fingers, and her eyes rolled over. She had succeeded! She had managed to make denim that was, once on the body, conforming to every body curve, tightening to a certain pressure, but allowing movement by keeping that same pressure, no more, no less. If the bending asked for more room the denim would stretch, but keeping the pressure equal.
She quickly went to a plastic bag, and got out a complete denim jumpsuit with attached gloves. She went to one of the big containers, the one marked KSS47 for Karen Special Solution number 47, and dipped the denim suit, except from below the knee to the bottom of the flared legs. For this portion of the legs, there was an inner sleeve that was meant to be tight fitting. For the moment, it was fed upward in the leg, and was dipping in the solution.
After it had been thoroughly soaked, she took it out, removed the excess of solution, and put it in the same box where she had taken the small denim tube. She set the timer to 7 hours and pushed the start button. Inside the box, the solution soaked garment was subjected to different doses of x-rays, UV-rays, infrared and microwaves rays, in a specific order, and specific strength. Karen let out a sight, removed her lab coat, revealing the extent of the tightness of her current jumpsuit: the seam in the middle of her back was almost bursting open. When she walked, a single crease line was visible just below her buns. Her hips were rocking back and forth with each step. The small waist incorporated some boning, suggesting a built-in corset. The upper torso was snug and tight up to the armpit where the tight sleeves were going down the arms, encasing them with enough tightness to reduce the easiness of movements. The front zipper stopped just over her compressed breast, leaving a generous cleavage to be seen. The collar of the suit was worn up, Elvis style.
With an appreciative smile, she looked again at the humming box, and turned off the light. It was 02:00. A good night’s sleep, and tomorrow will be the BIG test.
She hardly found any sleep at all.
The next morning, at 08:00 she was there, waiting, although the garment had to stay in the box for another hour. Her assistant was also quite excited.
“I just can’t wait to see that,” she said nervously.
“I know, Lynda” answered Karen. “I can’t wait to try it.”
Lynda brushed her long curly red hair with her hand, nervously. She sat on a lab stool. Her tightly enclosed bun stayed round, as the denim held it perfectly in place. She was bending mostly at the waist, over the waistband of her tight jeans. Her dark green velvet shirt was completing her outfit, along with 5 inches red pumps on her tiny feet. Karen was simply wearing her lab coat. She was ready to try on the new jumpsuit.
Finally, the timer beeped, and the door unlocked. Karen quickly retrieved the suit and looked at it.
“Nothing is showing. The color is the same, the feel is the same, and the weight is the same. Let’s try it on.”
She let her lab coat down, revealing her minimum underwear made of stretch denim. She put on the suit that was rather loose fitting. She fed her feet into the suit’s legs and into the lower inner sleeve, got the suit over her shoulders, put her hands in the gloved sleeves, and finally pulled up the zipper.
“Quick,” she said to Lynda “my shoes!” she said while lifting her feet, so Lynda could slip the 2 inches platform shoes with a net heel height of 5 inches.
She buckled the ankle strap and rose up, just in time to see the suit starting to slowly contract. Karen moved slowly, allowing the suit to take its place. In a few minutes, her body was molded like a second skin, except for the flared legs, which were still intact, covering the sight on her high heel shoes, giving her the appearance of extremely long legs. Karen could very well feel the inner sleeve of the lower leg compressing, unseen under the flared legs. Once her body had been perfectly molded, the tightening process began. The pressure increased equally everywhere. Her tummy being the softer part got squeezed even more, giving the effect of a corset, although the pressure was still equal. The suit grew tighter, and tighter, and tighter. Karen’s eyes widened. She was starting to feel much too compressed compared to her estimates. She was getting ready to unzip the suit and get it off when the compressing stopped. She stayed there, not moving. She calmed herself down.
“I think it’s a little too high on the UV, Lynda. Make a note to try a lower setting, next time.”
She slowly moved her arms. The feeling was awesome. She could move them in any direction, the suit was stretching to allow all movements, but at the same time, the denim was staying skin tight, and always with the same pressure. She made a few tentative steps, and it wasn’t long before she had to steady herself on a table.
“Something wrong” asked Lynda, worried.
“Wrong? Noooo. Well, not exactly… One more step and I’m having an orgasm.”
Lynda gave her a large smile. “Can’t wait to try it,” she said, quickly.
Karen continued her tests, sitting, walking stairs, the results were all the same: perfect.
“Well, I have to cut this test short, I have to go to the bathroom. Time to test the removal.”
She undid the zipper, and within a few minutes, the denim that was not touching her relaxed and reverted back to its original size. Removing the arms and legs proved to be difficult. She had to pull her hand out slowly, the denim changing shape to accommodate the hand as it slid out.
“Good thing I was not in a hurry” said Karen “otherwise, I would not have made it. We have to find a solution.”
“How about adding a crotch zipper”.
“Good idea. Start on that while I go relieve myself.” She said, walking in her underwear to the lab’s toilet.
Lynda quickly modified the suit and added a seldom hidden crotch zipper. The day was almost over when she was through. The zipper was impossible to see, unless someone was specifically looking at that, at that place. It was invisible.
“Very good job” said Karen, impressed. “Let’s see if it has changed the properties of the suit,” she said while quickly putting it back on. The same process was repeated, and the same results obtained.
“Fantastic” said Lynda.
“Yes! I wonder if the solution would render the suit hotter in the sun. Want to join me in the park?”
Lynda followed her down the stairs, and to the lab small park. There she walked around, sat on the bench, took much too many compliments from her fellow workers, and, according to Lynda, tested the mobility of the suit in different situations. So far, it was perfect, and quite arousing.
“I can’t wait to have mine,” said Lynda on her way back to the lab.
“I bet you do.” said Lynda “But a few more days of testing are needed, just to be sure that no rashes are developed on the skin by the chemical solution.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“Well, time to try your little zipper, I have to go again.”
When Karen walked back in the lab, she had a strange look on her face.
“Something wrong with my zipper?”
“No, actually, your zipper works fine. It’s the other one.” she said, while trying to pull down the front suit zipper. It wouldn’t budge.
“Maybe it’s just stuck. Let me try” said Lynda.
She grabbed the zipper, and tried all she could: pulling, pushing, twisting, there was nothing to do, it wouldn’t move.
“Well, too bad for the zipper. Try with pliers.” Suggested Karen.
But again, the zipper resisted. Karen put her hands in her collar, and pulled in opposite directions as hard as she could, trying to rip the zipper, or the suit, apart. Nothing happened. She looked at Lynda, not knowing what to say. Lynda approached with a scalpel, and carefully tried to cut the suit. Not a single dent was left on the suit.
“What the hell is going on here?” said Karen. “This was not supposed to happen.” She quickly grabbed the small sample tube, and with some force, split it open.
“Why would the suit behave like this, when the sample, which had been through the same process, would retain its normal properties.”
“I don’t kno… Yes, there’s a difference. You went under the sun.”
“So what, the sun is light, and there’s light in the room, even from the sun…”
“Yes but think for an instant. The sun radiates ALL the wavelengths. The windows of the lab block most of them, but outside, the suit was exposed to ALL the radiation of the sun. One or more may have influenced its properties.”
Karen harshly took the sample and quickly walked outside. The sun was still high. She placed the sample directly under the sun for roughly the same amount of time she had been, then re-tried to rip it in two. It was indestructible.
“You know what that means, Lynda?”
“Yes. Unless we find a way to reverse the process, you’ll be stuck in that suit for a long time.”
They stayed in late that night, trying a variety of solutions to get the denim act normally again, but to no avail. The denim sample resisted even acid baths. At close to 03:00, they returned home, hoping some sleep would bring the solution.
Karen had to sleep in her tight denim catsuit. She was used to wear a stretch denim catsuit, but not that tight. It felt like she had on four layers of standard stretch denim, all 3 sizes too small. She was so exhausted, she finally fell asleep.
She woke up close to noon. When she lifted her arm, she smelled the 24 hours she had been in the suit. Having nothing to lose, she showered in it. Much to her surprises, the stains disappeared easily, and the anti-perspirant she pushed under her arms seemed to work. She put a hint of perfume, put, again, her platform shoes on, since she couldn’t wear anything else, the legs of the suit being too long for anything else, and impossible to cut, and walked out. The sun was high and hot. She took the top of her convertible off and drove away. She was driving her red Mustang right through the heavy mid-day traffic. Although the sun was hot, she felt comfortable in her tight denim suit. For the first hour anyway. The drive to the lab which usually takes less than an hour was now looking to take close to two. She was stuck in the middle of the traffic, jammed by some big truck that had lost its load of glass marbles. She began to feel uncomfortably tight, and the only way she could relieve the tension was to lower the back of her seat, to get more into a lying position. At one point, she reached for her purse, and found the suit surprisingly hard to move. She realized that she had been exposing the suit to direct sunlight for all that time, and was starting to get scared that the suit would change properties once more. She couldn’t get out of her car. She hurried to put the soft-top back on, but the damage was done. When she finally arrived at the office, she stiffly walked to an amazed looking Lynda.
“What the heck happened?”
Karen explained the situation and her fear that the denim was getting stiffer or even shrinking slowly. They began to test the fabric. After two hours of testing, the results were out: the fabric had totally lost its equal pressure properties and was behaving like normal denim, which was leaving Karen in an unyielding cocoon of tight, indestructible denim.
They were quick to put the sample under the sun again
“For now on” said Lynda” you should avoid any direct exposure to the sun. We know that through the window, there’s no effect, so you’ll be safe here, or at home. But you will have to travel by night only.”
Karen agreed. What else could she do?
The sample was exposed to the sun for two weeks, and each day tested for modified properties. The only thing that was observed is that, after three consecutive days of exposure, it shrank 1%. That’s all that happened within two weeks. Karen and Lynda felt safe that, if they continue monitoring the sample, they will get a two weeks advance warning of what is going to happen, and could prepare, or keep Karen out of sunlight.
Karen believed that she would be able to cope with the added shrinking, and she went on, back under the sun. She had to face it; it would be her confinement for, perhaps, the rest of her life.
Two years had passed. Karen had become quite accustomed to her situation, and managed to live an almost normal life, although the mobility restrictions of the tight suit were giving her a hard time, sometimes. She was now used to the appraisal look of men, turning around and looking at her tightly encased butt, wiggling to walk, and the disapproving look of women who find that way of dressing inappropriate.
It was Friday, and Karen and Lynda were preparing to go on vacation.
“Why don’t you come with us? It will be fun, and you will be able to take your mind out of that suit. We’ve been researching a solution for two years, time to take a break. Come to the beach with us. I’m sure that Brad will be more than happy to see you in that suit, wet.”
“Because you expect me to take a dip while wearing it?”
“Why not? Afraid of ruining it? Acid didn’t do anything, what can salt water do?”
And so they were off. Although Brad, Lynda’s boyfriend, was used to seeing her in tight jeans, there was nothing like the sight of Karen’s suit. At every occasion on the trip to the ocean, he managed to take a good look at her, and Karen played along. She was the one who got up to the counter to ask for ketchup at that small dinner, so that Brad, and every drooling male in the place, could have a look at her, resting a foot on the base of a stool, leaning over the counter and asking for the ketchup. When they walked out, Brad deliberately led them in the opposite direction that he was parked (he said he forgot) so they would pass in front of the dinner windows twice. Surprisingly, Brad was leading them, but was walking behind…
Once at the beach, Karen attracted much attention, being the only one fully clothed, while the rest were wearing swimsuits. Brad teased her to come to the water, but she said that she was drawing enough attention as it was, without having to walk around dripping wet. By the end of the afternoon, the beach was beginning to get empty. Brad and Lynda took Karen by surprise, and helped by the fact that she could not move as easily as them, they lifted her and carried her to the water, where they threw her on an incoming wave, before running back to the hot sand, getting away from any possible revenge from Karen.
She laid sitting in 60cm of water for a few minutes, laughing, and enjoying the feeling of the seawater on her. She still had her platform shoes on! She got up, and started to walk as best as she could toward the laughing Brad and Lynda when there was a sudden pain in her stomach, followed by a strange sensation all over her body. She dropped on her knees, and put her hands down. Brad and Lynda rushed in. Karen was panting.
“I don’t know. I feel so strange…”
Lynda grabbed her by the arm.
“Try to get up. Let me help y… Wait a minute. Karen! Your suit. It’s stretching!”
Karen started pulling at the suit, and, in fact, the denim was stretchable, as easy as if it was a thin layer of spandex. Nervously, hand shaking, she reached for the zipper, who glided down, effortlessly. She let herself down, sitting in the shallow water.
“Sea water… I don’t get it. It resists acid, but reverts with sea water!” was saying Karen, rocking her hips from side to side, in disbelief.
“Are you okay?” asked Lynda.
“I feel strange. I got so used to the fact that I was tightly held all over, and now I… I miss it.”
Lynda and Brad helped her back on her feet. Since she had nothing else on than her underwear, she kept the suit back to her hotel room. She removed it, and collapsed on the bed. For the first time in two years, her skin was directly exposed to the air. She felt tinglings all over her body.
She borrowed one of Lynda’s metallic Lycra dresses for dinner and evening. The next morning, she rushed to the store, and bought normal denim jeans, of course, they were tight, and she was not going to wear anything else. She just loved tight jeans. They spent the rest of the week at the beach, having fun at evening parties. Karen would always attract attention with her tighter than average jeans, dancing, high heels flying, and her butt twisting with each step.
Finally, the week was over. On the morning of their departure, she was sitting on the footbed, looking at the denim catsuit, lying on the chair. She was missing the tight, overall hugging of the suit, and was wondering if the properties were still active. She put it on. Within minutes, the suit shrank to the tightness she was now used to. She was able to move the zipper, and could feel the equal pressure properties in action.
“Well” she said to the incoming Lynda “everything is back to normal. A full day under the sun, and everything will be as before.”
“What? You want to get back at being a prisoner of that suit again? You’ll have to carry a lot of seawater to be able to take it off at night, every night, unless you plan to move here. We live in the middle of the continent, remember?”
“Who said I wanted to take it off every night? One week at the beach every year is relief enough…”
© Pete / monsterp63, August 10, 2000
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