“What are you doing this weekend, Karen?” asked Lynda, a co-worker and a very good friend, as they were taking the elevator down the building, at the end of another week of work in the office.
“I have to go see my aunt again. She’s still not feeling too well.”
“Gee, you’ve been doing that for what, over a month now, going to see her every week-end? She must be very special to you. You should introduce us one day.” Said Lynda, while getting off the elevator and heading for the street.
“Good week-end anyway, Karen.” Said Lynda as she waved goodbye, walking fast to catch her bus.
Karen stayed there, looking at Lynda walking away. She looked at her butt, tightly encased in extremely tight stretch jeans, her high heels shoes clicking away. She bit her lower lip, looking at her reflection in the large entrance door of the building: long to the ankle dress, very puffy, and an equally puffy sweater. She was hiding her body shape under this entire almost hippie-looking outfit.
Oh yes, she had a great body, but was simply too shy to show it. It just wasn’t her.
She took the bus to her apartment. Buster, her cat, welcomed her with loud purrs. She carefully locked the door and removed her shoes. She pulled down all the blinds, and dimmed down the lights, and finally unplugged the phone. Officially, she was not home, but at her sick aunt’s place, a hundred miles away.
She walked to the bedroom, and to the closet. She opened the door and retrieved, way back, hidden behind more long dresses, a cardboard box she took to the bed. She opened it, shivering with anticipation.
She carefully took out a pair of high heels platform sandals with a six inches heel and a 2 inches platform and put them on the bed. Then she pulled out a pair of faded blue Guess jeans, and finally, a dark blue spandex leotard with long sleeves.
She put the box on the floor, and started to undress, getting rid of her ample dress and sweater, revealing a curvy body with well rounded and firm butt, ample and firm breasts, a wasp thin waist, and long slim legs. She looked like a goddess in her black silk underwear.
Grabbing delicately the spandex leotard, she slipped onto it gracefully, pulling the thick and tight fabric up to cover her slim body. The shine of the spandex created wonderful waves in the soft dim lighting of the room. She pulled her arms through the tight sleeves, slowly rubbing them to remove any wrinkles.
Once seated on the side of the bed, she took the jeans and unfolded them, threading them up her legs. Then, she took the shoes and put them on, fastening the delicate straps around her thin ankles. Then, she laid down on the bed, on her back, and started to pull on the jeans getting them higher up her legs. It was a tight fit and she had to pull hard and to wiggle her body for the tight denim to rise. Contrary to Lynda’s, these were not stretched, but the classic denim.
Her breath shaking, she pulled more and more until the seam pushed on her crotch, where it ought to be. She relaxed, for a few moments, before emptying her lungs, holding her breath and starting the dreadful work of fastening them.
It was long and painful, having to pull on the sides of the jeans and work the zipper at the same time, but she was so good, she had elevated the procedure to an art. Slowly, tooth by tooth, the zipper went up, squeezing her hips. She was feeling the tightness engulfing her. She closed her eyes as the last pull was made before fastening the waist button then let out a long sigh.
Slowly raising her hips up and down, she rubbed her hands along her upper thighs, hips and her crotch. She moaned softly as waves of pleasure were transmitted from her tingling fingers, through the tight denim, to her aroused crotch.
It wasn’t long before she had an orgasm. It was so good. She stayed there for long moments, relaxing, and enjoying the pleasure.
Finally, she got up. It was not exactly sexy to watch, but she managed to get on her feet. She steadied herself on her high heels and had a long look at the mirror, admiring her incredible figure, and the incredible tightness of the jeans, moulding her body.
She walked to the kitchen in the dimmed light. She fixed herself a light salad. She couldn’t eat much anyway; the jeans were crushing her stomach.
She walked in circles in the small apartment, feeling the way she had to rock her hips to walk, and dreamed of one day, be able to take a long walk outside in her jeans and high heels. Oh, yes, she could simply get rid of her dress and walk out in the open, but what the others would think? She would be some kind of freak. No, she preferred to keep her granola girl image. That was more down to earth.
She spent the whole weekend in her tight jeans and high heels, not getting out, hiding from the outside world. On Monday morning, she was back to work, with Lynda, which was again wearing one of her tight jeans. These ones were not stretched, and Karen had fantasies about spending a day at work with her tight jeans. An idea was starting to form.
Once home, at the end of the day, she had a go at it. She put on her tight jeans then her dress. Would it show? Would someone discover that she was wearing jeans under her dress?
Adrenaline pumping, heart beating, she decided to have a try. The legs were too long to wear with her usual flats, and the high heels would show under the dress, so she rolled up the jeans. She walked outside, and had a walk downtown. It was a blast. She loved every minute of it, every step, the fact that she could walk for long stretches of sidewalk instead of the few steps allowed in her small apartment. She had enough time to feel the tightness, to get a good massage. She was plain hot and horny when she got back home, and the dress flew away pretty quick as she laid on her bed and let her fingers play along.
Maybe she could wear them to work. It would probably go unnoticed.
It took her a week to have enough guts to try it. So, on that Monday morning, she was feeling somewhat distracted as she rode up the elevator. She was feeling her tight jeans massaging her thighs. Was it showing? Apparently, Lynda didn’t see anything, and went on like usual. That day, she had a pair of extremely tight stretch Miss Sixty jeans.
It’s when Karen sat at her workplace she suddenly realized she would have a problem: she could barely sit. She was more leaning on the chair than sitting straight, and that she was sure, was showing. She was somewhat safe behind her desk, as only someone coming besides her would notice it.
By the end of the day, her hips were hurting. These jeans were not made for long sitting sessions. She would have to find something else. Stretch jeans were the answer.
The next day, she rushed to the jeans store and bought a pair for herself. She chose the Miss Sixty brand, and took about 3 sizes too small. They were stretched almost to the breaking point, but gave her the desired tightness, and allowed her to sit somewhat normally, and she would be able to sit all day. Which she did.
That’s how it started. Every day, she would wear her stretch tight jeans under her long dress, and she would enjoy every minute of it, but it was still absolutely out of the question that she would go out in public in them.
She had taken the habit of taking a walk in her non-stretch tight jeans almost every evening. The only thing missing was the high heels. She couldn’t raise herself suddenly by 6 inches and having nobody noticed. She had to find a way, an excuse.
That potential excuse came the next time she went out to buy a new dress. She took a particular design that would make it practically impossible to shorten, but took it 6 inches too long.
She then went to a nearby shoe store and bought wedge platform shoes with a 6 inches sole, but not “high heeled”, and another pair that was high-heeled. She smiled at the stunt she was about to make.
The following day, she put on her dress and the regular platform shoes. Of course, everybody noticed how tall she suddenly was. She showed the dress, lied about the fact that it was the last one on the shelf, that she really wanted to have it, and it was impossible to shorten. Then, she showed the platform shoes she wore to compensate. Everyone, although were finding the story weird, found the idea clever.
A few days later, she was again with her too-long dress, but this time, she had switched for her high-heeled wedge platforms hoes. Nobody saw it. Of course, the next time, she finally added her extra-tight stretch jeans along. She was fooling everybody, and was having the time of her life. Well almost.
The real time of her life, she was having it every evening, wearing that extra-long dress with her non-stretch tight jeans and her spiky platform shoes. That was a blast. But would she go even bolder? There was a window of opportunity the following Saturday, a few days ahead, and she planned it carefully. She thought.
Everybody knew that she was not the one to go swim in some pool. She was rather the kind to stay by the poolside, dressed in her long dress. It was the perfect setup.
With her heart pumping, she decided to go all the way. That morning, she put on her non-stretch jeans and her spiky platform shoes under her long dress. She would simply stay up, or use one of the stools to rest. The party was starting in the afternoon, with a BBQ dinner, and some fun in the evening.
Most of the employees were there with their wife, about 40 people in all. It was held at Phil’s place. She once had a crush on him, but he didn’t seem interested. As a matter of fact, her granola look wasn’t exactly appealing. So, she got there in the afternoon. Everybody was somewhat surprised to see her, again, in her long dress.
“What? No swimsuit?” asked Lynda.
“No, I’m not a good swimmer.” She said.
She was rapidly outcast from the party, which suited her. She didn’t want to have her secret life discovered. She was to spend most of the day squeezed in her extremely tight jeans, wearing her spiky heels shoes, outside, and that was enough.
Dinner time. Everybody got closer to the BBQ to have their dose of hamburgers and hot-dogs. Everything was going well, and Karen was going unnoticed, until the incident:
Someone, having one drink too many, hit a table, making it almost flip over. That tipped a glass of liquor that spilled on Karen’s dress. Then the ashtray that was near the edge of the table fell to the floor, a lit cigarette creating a spark that ignited the alcohol.
Immediately, Karen’s dress took fire. In the panic of the moment, before she could react, someone had taken her by the waist and was dragging her to the pool as another one pulled hard on her dress to take it off, and she ended up splashing in the pool, with everybody coming by the side to offer her assistance.
“Karen!” yelled a concerned Phil. “Are you o….kay… What the heck are you wearing?” he asked, trying to distinguish through the fuzzy moving water.
Karen didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. There it was, in the open, her tight jeans and high heels fetish. She had no way out. She could run, but with what use? She would all see them the next Monday at the office.
“Oh my god! Karen? I didn’t know you were like that.” Said a surprised Lynda. “Do… do you do that often?” she asked, looking at the dripping wet jeans as she was pulled out of the pool.
“Boy, they’re really, and I mean, really tight. And about those high heels shoes. Why…”
Karen blushed. It was suddenly very quiet. Everybody was looking at her, and she was looking at her feet. What to do? What to say? She looked up.
“Okay, yes! I’m a tight jeans and a high heels fetishist. I like wearing them. In fact I wear them every day, and even at work under my dress.”
“But… why hiding it? There’s nothing wrong about it.”
“I… I don’t know… I was… shy to show it.”
Lynda took her apart.
“There’s nothing to be shy of. Look at me. I do it all the time. Honestly, you looked more like a weirdo with your long dresses than with that… although wet like that, I’m not so sure.”
That broke out a laugh, and relaxed Karen.
“Come on. Let’s join the others.”
“But I’m all wet?”
“So we are, only we are wearing swimsuits… And,” she said, lowering her voice “with that sun still shining, your jeans will dry… and shrink.” She said with a wink.
Karen answered with a nervous smile and finally followed Lynda to meet back the crowd. She was welcomed with reserve, but she felt good. The bubble she had been keeping herself in for the past months was now gone. And suddenly, Phil seemed interested in her, approaching with a towel.
“Want me to help you dry out?” he said, applying the towel to the tightly encased legs. She felt him squeeze his hands on her thighs. It made her shiver. He smiled at her.
“I think I’ll never understand why you kept such a so wonderful body hidden under those bulky dresses.” He said, “You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.”
She didn’t know what to think. Suddenly she realized that most of the men were looking at her with those wolf eyes she saw so often when they were looking at Lynda’s tight butt.
The rest of the evening went on without any other incident, except the fact that Phil was always nearby her and that by sundown, they had shrunk to an incredibly tight size, so much that her blood was almost cut off. She couldn’t be more pleased.
Monday. Back to work. Hum… She hesitated a moment, but finally went on with it. She put on her overly tight stretch jeans, put on her wedge high heels shoes and went. At the office, she was greeted more cheerfully than usual. By the end of the day, Phil came to her.
“Doing anything special Friday night?” he asked her.
“I guess I will.” She answered with a smile.
A few moments later, she went to see Lynda.
“I think I have some shopping to do. Care to come with me? I think I need advice?”
© Pete / monsterp63, November 2004
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