The snow was softly falling, covering everything of a pure white carpet, reflecting the multicoloured lights of the street.
Karen was in her apartment, preparing to spend another joyful and romantic Christmas with her boyfriend, Phil.
It was almost midnight. Phil had already called it the night, having worked hard during the day, as a truck driver. Karen was setting up the last gifts under the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, sparkling with lights and coloured decorations.
She had a glimpse of herself in the long decorative wall mirror. Tall and slim, she had round buns and firm, ample breasts. She was wearing green tight jeans, a white blouse under a red jacket, along with white spiky heels platform sandals. She called it her Christmas outfit.
She loved tight jeans, and Phil too. Her goal was to achieve the tightest possible jeans, but so far, she did not succeed. Right now, those green tight jeans were slightly stretching to conform to her voluptuous curves. So, yes, they fit her like a second skin, but being stretchable, they were not tight enough, to her taste anyway.
She had tried all different kinds, brands, even had a few custom made pairs, but there was always something wrong: not evenly tight, not tight enough, pinching at one place, loose at the other. She had tried extremely tight ones, and tried to fabricate the exotic tools used by some tight jeans fetish stories writers, but either the tools didn’t work, or the jeans simply ripped apart.
She crouched down to put in place the last of the carefully wrapped boxes when she grinned, feeling her crotch getting pinched. With a sigh, she got up and walked to the sofa, and installed herself comfortably, watching the last part of one of those Christmas movies. In about half an hour, she would be joining Phil into bed.
As she watched the movie, and seeing someone’s wish being granted, she had a thought.
“Ah, if only Santa was true. I would wish to have the perfect pair of tight jeans, very tight, everywhere, not pinching and easy to put on. I know I’m asking the impossible, but, well, if it weren’t for fantasy, we wouldn’t have much to dream of.” She said, as she slowly drifted to sleep, still on the sofa.
It sounded like leather creaking. Was it Phil trying to have a peek at the gifts? She slightly opened her eyes, faking to still be asleep, but it wasn’t Phil.
It was definitely a woman, wearing a red and white leather outfit. Karen fired into action.
“Hey! Who are you? How did you get in here?” She said, getting up. The woman, who was crouched down, seemingly putting a box under the tree, got up with a loud leather creaking, and put a finger of her white leather covered hand to her mouth.
She was wearing very tight red leather jeans, thigh high black leather high heels boots and a red also tight fitting leather jacket with wide white fur cuffs and trimmings at waist level and at the collar.
“Shhh. Please, don’t wake up Phil.” She said, “You were not supposed to wake up either. I guess I didn’t go strong enough on you.” Said the leather clad woman, raising a hand, as if to cast a spell.
Karen was ready to jump on her. She lowered her arm.
“Who the hell are you?” said Karen.
“Wait, calm down.” She said, lowering her voice. “I’m Santa’s daughter, and I’m here for the wish you made.”
Karen opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was obviously having some kind of weird dream.
“I’m Santa’s daughter. I heard you wishing for a perfect pair of tight jeans, so here I am. I’ve looked at your file, and you’ve always been a good girl, so your wish is granted. And as you can see, I’m a tight jeans fan myself.” She said, turning on herself making a complete turn.
Karen could see how tight the leather jeans were, contouring her buns with perfection, the crotch seam going high up in the butt crack.
She could see that her thin waist was tightly constricted under the jacket, perhaps by some corset.
Those moves created more creaking noise as well as awaken the wonderful musk scent of the leather.
“No, wait. Santa doesn’t have a daughter, and wait, Santa doesn’t even exist.”
The leather-clad woman laughed.
“Well, surprise, all this is true. Well, partly. My father doesn’t go all around the world to distribute gifts, of course. But we do give many every year, to people who really deserved them, and who have asked something impossible to find or create without magic.”
“Ah.” Said Karen, not really sure to believe it or not.
“Well, I better be going.” She said, walking toward Karen, her leather creaking and her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. “I think you should go back to sleep also.” She said, waiving a hand at Karen’s face, sparkling little particles floating in the air.
Karen closed her eyes and, suspended in mid-air, she was carried back to the sofa, where she fell asleep.
Santa’s daughter twisted her finger over her own head, making more sparkling particles, and disappeared.
Karen opened her eyes. The television screen showed nothing but noise. The movie she was watching has ended, and the broadcast had been shut down for the night. Dizzy, she realized that she had fallen asleep on the sofa, and slowly headed to the bedroom where she fell asleep on the bed, still all dressed up, alongside Phil.
Someone was shaking her.
“Hello? Anybody home?” asked Phil.
Karen opened her eyes and blinked in the bright daylight.
“What time is it?” she asked, still sleepy.
“It’s almost 10. Gee, you did sleep hard last night. You realize that you’re still dressed?”
Karen rolled on her side. She didn’t need to look she could feel it, still feeling the tight jeans compressing her legs, the tight jacket and her feet on the high heels sandals.
“I… I was so sleepy last night, I don’t even remember going from the living room to the bedroom.”
“Well, looks like the movie was boring after all. I’ll go make some coffee.” Said Phil, kissing her on the forehead and heading for the kitchen.
Karen headed for the bathroom and took a long shower. She came out a while later wearing a bathrobe and 4 inches slippers. She was so used to wearing high heels that she couldn’t lay her feet flat on the ground anymore.
Her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, she joined Phil in the kitchen, who had already prepared a nice breakfast.
“Ready to see what Santa gave us this year?” said Phil, joyfully as a kid, once they were done with the breakfast.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” Said Karen, equally joyfully.
They headed for the living room, and crouched down at the tree. They exchanged their gifts, then, at the end, Phil noticed another box, rather large, behind the tree.
“Oops, looks like someone forgot a gift here.”
“Never saw that box before.” Said Karen.
“It’s for you.” Said Phil, looking at the label.
“Well, thank you, Phil.” Said Karen.
“It… it’s not from me, I never bought that.” He said.
“It’s from… Santa?” said Karen, reading the label. Oh, come on. Don’t tell me it’s not from you.
“I swear. I put all the boxes there myself, and I never saw that one. The wrapping is also completely different from what we used.”
Perplexed, Karen opened it. It was a pair of jeans. Although the denim appeared normal, it felt strange.
“Well, I definitely did not buy myself a pair of jeans for Christmas.”
“Whoever gave it to you wanted to remain anonymous. Why don’t you give them a try?” said Phil.
Karen unfolded the jeans. They were faded blue with a bleached pattern on the front thighs. She slipped them on. The length appeared perfect to wear with 5 inches heels! They felt snug, but not exactly tight, and the zipper was easy to pull up. She had a thought about her perfect tight jeans, and was disappointed with the fit. That was until she fastened the waist button.
All of a sudden, the jeans appeared to have a life of their own. They started to tighten, getting tighter and tighter, compressing her waist, hips and thighs, more and more.
Karen didn’t know what to do. She was afraid, and at the same time, she liked it, it was getting very tight, as tight as she would have liked them, then it stopped. She stayed there, not moving, afraid to break the moment.
Phil, still kneeling on the floor, had wide eyes. He saw the jeans shrink along Karen’s legs, moulding her to perfection.
“What the hell was that?” he asked with a low almost shaky voice.
“Beats me, but I like it. These are just perfect. They’re my dream jeans.” She said, rubbing her hands along her tightly compressed thighs and hips, feeling the tensed denim.
She moved around. It was so tight, her buns had a hard time finding a place to move, but to her, the feeling was simply awesome. No pinching, no bulging. Equal pressure everywhere. Nothing hurts.
“They’re really nice. Now, can you get them off?” asked Phil, curious.
Karen undid the waist button, and the denim relaxed. She refastened it, and the jeans got tight again.
“They’re like… magical or something. Weird.”
“Where do they come from?” asked Phil, looking at the box from every possible angle. There was only Santa printed everywhere.
Karen removed the jeans and checked for the manufacturer tag. She found it, and went wide eyes.
“It says: Size: Tight. Manufactured by Santa’s Clothing Company.”
“What the hell is that?”
“I don’t know, but I’m keeping them.” She said, putting the jeans back on, then went to her closet to put the much needed 5 inches heels shoes so she would not walk on the jeans and some t-shirt.
She was walking back and forth in her apartment. She reached the window giving a view up front. From the third floor, where she was, she could see someone on the sidewalk. It was a woman wearing what appeared to be tight red leather jeans and jacket with white fur trimmings and thigh high black high heels boots. She winked and waved at Karen and, in a puff of snowflakes, disappeared.
Karen blinked and stared where the woman was a few seconds earlier. Phil came to her.
“Nothing. It’s just that I think I believe in Santa again.”
© Pete / monsterp63, December 2004
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