Author’s note: I had a long day at work today. Maybe I simply breathe too much solvent fumes, but here’s what came up with: Cinderella in tight jeans.
Karen had lost her beloved parents in a strange but dreadful car accident; they had apparently driven on a telephone pole at about 30km/h and… died.
Anyhoo, Karen was now forced to live with her disgusting aunt Carla and her two cousins, Elda and Ilda. They were always on her, hitting her, bullying her. She was not welcomed, and was not appreciated. Carla would buy brand new clothes for her daughters, but left the poor Karen do what she could with the little money she was giving her as an employee of her small greasy snack bar.
Carla was stating high and loud that Karen was not a member of her family, and any passerby would be sure of that. As Elda and Ilda were rather short, fat at the wrong places and ugly, always wearing the most bizarre and disgusting fashions like their mother, while Karen was dressed in a more conventional manner. Of course she couldn’t afford the expensive, yet ugly, dresses her cousins were wearing, so she was sticking to jeans and t-shirts.
Then, the son of a rich businessman came to town. Rumours said that he was looking for a mate, someone with whom he would spend the rest of his life with. He was coming to this small town because he was unknown there, and although he had a huge fortune, he had no reputation, except of being rich and handsome… or was it handsomely rich…
As the night of the big dance he had organized approached, official invitations were giving away to every woman desiring to come. Of course, Karen didn’t have an invitation. Well, she had one, but Aunt Carla quickly took it away.
“Don’t dream. You’re not good enough for him, and you’ll be working at the snack bar that night.” She had said.
That day, she was alone at the snack bar. Nobody was coming as they were all preparing for the dance. Karen was sitting in the corner, sobbing.
“Hello? Anybody in there?”
Karen got up and quickly dried her tears. She approached the counter. There stood a young man, definitely not from the village.
“Hi.” Said Karen, trying to put on her most beautiful smile. “Sorry, it’s been kinda slow tonight, I had dozed off. How may I help you?”
“I would like a coffee, please.” He said, “So, it’s been quiet, right? I guess everybody is at that dance where the rich guy would choose his bride. How come you’re not going?” he asked. “You look like you should be there.”
“Well, I have to work, and honestly, would someone as rich and as beautiful as this gentleman would want someone all stinky and greasy as me?” she said, taking back a sob. “And even if I wanted to go, I don’t have an invitation. My aunt took it away from me before I could read it.”
“Well, I would say too bad for the rich guy, you seem like a nice girl. Thanks for the coffee.” He said, putting money on the counter and leaving.
Karen took the money, and was surprised to find a ticket for the dance!
“Sir! You forgot your ticket for the dance!” she yelled at him, who was slowly walking away.
“Ticket? I don’t need any ticket to enter.” He yelled back. “I AM the rich guy.” He said with a wink. “See you later!”
Karen, amazed, looked at the ticket.
You’re invited for a one of a kind party. The party where Phil will choose his mate. But Phil has really picky tastes, and won’t transgress any of his rules. All women attending his dance must wear the tightest pair of jeans she could put on, as well as shoes with a heel of a minimum of five inches, and a very tight fitting shirt with long sleeves under an also tight fitting leather jacket along with leather gloves.
If you got what it takes, you’re welcome. Oh, wear a mask over your eyes.
Karen read the invitation twice.
“Is this kind of a joke?” she asked herself. At that same moment, her aunt Carla was passing by with her two daughters on the way to the dance. It was a detour for her to go in front of the snack bar, but it was to make sure Karen was working.
Karen waved them hello, but worked hard not to laugh. Apparently, the invitation was genuine, as Carla had stuffed her two daughters in the tightest pair of jeans she could find. Problem is, the fit was…awful. The two sisters were to start from, fatty, and their huge fat belly was pouring out of the tight jeans like undercooked doe. The leather jacket was too small for their arms and was pulling on all the wrong places, and they were tumbling on top of their three inches heels. Just trying to stay upright was a challenge.
“They don’t stand a chance.” She said to herself. “Nor do I.” She said, lowering her head, a tear falling on the invitation ticket.
“And why not?”
“Who said that?” asked Karen, getting up.
A little firefly approached the counter, leaving a trail of sparkling lights that faded slowly.
“Me!” said the firefly. And with a poof of smoke, a woman appeared, wearing a frilly white dress and a pink fluffy shirt.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Lynda, you fairy godmother.”
“My fairy godmother? Where the heck have you been all these years?”
“Hey, don’t ask me, ask the darn writer of this story. Anyhoo, you want to go to the dance, I’m here for you.”
“But I can’t. What if my aunt finds the snack bar empty?”
“I’ll take care of it. So want to go?”
“Yes, but I don’t have what it takes.”
“That’s what I’m here for, hon.” She said.
And with a twist of her magic wand, Karen was surrounded by zillions of sparkling lights, and she saw her dress change. When the sparkling disappeared, she found herself dressed in tight jeans, stretch spandex shirt, very tight fitting leather jacket and gloves, as well as perched on six inches heel platform shoes.
“What do you think of that?” asked Lynda, making a bubble with her gum.
“That’s… fantastic.” She said, looking at her outfit on the broken mirror of the snack bar. “But the ticket said to wear jeans as tight as possible, and I don’t feel them very tight, but slightly snug.”
“Oh, so now you’re criticizing my choices? Okay, there you go.” She said adding another twist of her magic wand.
Karen went wide eyes as she felt the jeans getting tighter around her waist, buns, hips and thighs. Her eyes opened wider and wider as the jeans became tighter and tighter, up do the point when she thought she was about to be crushed to death. When the shrinking stopped, she stood there, panting, not moving.
“So, what do you think this time? Tight enough for ya?”
“I… Gee, I can barely walk.” She said as she took her first few steps. Learning to walk on six inches heels shoes was already a challenge. With her hips locked into the tight jeans, it was even more difficult.
“Don’t you think it’s too tight?” asked Karen, then quickly added “never mind, they’re perfect.” When she saw Lynda’s eyes beginning to swell. She was one heck of a touchy fairy godmother.
“Now, go to that ball and win that guy’s heart and money.” Said Lynda.
“How? I mean aren’t you about to make a carriage out of something?”
“You want a ride? It’s merely one block away. Walk!” she said as she waved her magic wand and became a firefly again, and flew away.
“But the snack b…”
At the counter, someone looking exactly like Karen was already waiting for the sparse customer.
Since it was looking like everything was taken care of, she put on the small mask over her eyes and walked to the ballroom.
The firefly came back to her and landed on her shoulder.
“I forgot to tell you, Karen. You have to be back to the snack bar by midnight. That’s the latest your clone will fill-in for you. Bye!” said the fairy godmother as she flew away.
The walk to the ballroom, although only a block away, proved challenging. Karen quickly learned that jeans this tight were quite arousing. The rubbing of the seam on her crotch, her bun being squeezed in turn with each step, the twist of the hips she had to do with every step, were all producing hellish results. When she tried to comb her hairs with her leather covered hands, she realized that the leather jacket was not tight, it was extra-tight: she couldn’t bend her elbow enough to reach her head! She was extremely encased, no doubts… and extremely stimulated.
When she entered the ballroom, everybody was looking pretty much the same. She quickly recognized her cousins in their awful outfits, trying to impress a young man she recognized as the one that stopped by the snack bar a while earlier: the rich guy.
She was dressed so extreme, that she drew attention. The attention of the other contestants, and the attention of the Phil himself, who happily let go of the two ugly sisters and concentrated his attention on this new one.
“Hello. What should I call you? Cinderella?” he said, gently taking her hand and kissing her.
“I can live with that.” She said.
“Then Cinderella it is. Would you care to dance?”
She had pretty much no other choice than to accept. If she was to say no, he would immediately reject her. The fact was that she was a very good dancer, but she never did it in high heels and never in jeans that tight. She was afraid they would rip apart.
Nevertheless, she followed him on the dance floor. There they started to dance and she was surprised at how easy it was to move in these tight jeans and high heels. Phil had a way of holding her, always putting her hand just under the waistband, feeling the tight denim wrapping her lower body. Her moves were rather stiff and inflexible, but Phil appeared to understand and even appreciate it.
Of course, he had other… runner up, to see, to chat, to dance with. But he was always returning to his Cinderella.
“Would you care for a walk in the park?” he asked.
She gently followed him. Climbing the numerous stairs up to the municipal park behind the ballroom was a challenge, but he helped her and waited for her. As they were walking slowly, he wrapped his hand around her waist, and slowly, ran his hand down. Karen let him do it. A few moments later, his hand was on her bun, feeling the tight denim, and especially the large crease her buns were making with each step.
“Gee, those are the tightest jeans I ever saw, and I saw a lot of them. How do you manage to put them on?”
“With a bit of magic.” She said, taking his hand away, and embracing him. She didn’t know what pushed her, but her lips locked onto his in the most passionate kiss Hollywood had ever seen. There was electricity in the air.
Then she heard some beeps. She looked at her watch. Midnight! She had to go back to the snack bar.
“S… sorry, I have to go.” She said, running away.
“But wait! I want to know more about you? Come back? What’s the rush?”
But Karen was running like hell. She never knew she could run that fast on high heels and with jeans that tight. She turned for a shortcut amidst some bushes when she fell face first on the ground as if she had missed a step. A quick look showed her that she was back in her own clothes and sneakers. She didn’t look back. She knew that Phil was after her. She continued running and came back to an empty snack bar. No one was tending it, and no one was attending it.
As Phil reached the bushes, something grabbed his attention: a piece of cloth… a pair of jeans.
“There’s only one butt for these jeans.” He said, “And I will find her.”
The next day, Phil had put posters everywhere, asking who was wearing those jeans the night before. Of course, many girls responded, and many tried the jeans, but it was fitting no one like the mystery girl of that night.
Finally, after a week of unsuccessful search, he was sitting at the snack bar, depressed.
“Why? Why would she come dressed in the most incredibly tight jeans I ever saw, and never go forward to present herself. That’s her that I want. Where is she?”
“Perhaps she is too shy to go, or can’t for some reason.” Said Karen.
“Karen, don’t disturb the customers!”
Karen lowered her head and turned away.
“Yes aunt Carla.”
“Wait a minute! Did you come to the dance?”
“Me? Come on. I was here all the time tending the snack bar. I couldn’t come.” She said, looking frantically at her aunt.
“There. I want you to try them.” Said Phil.
“No way!” yelled aunt Carla, strolling fast and taking the jeans off Karen’s hand. “It can’t be anyone else that one of my daughters” she said. “Here, put this on.” She yelled while throwing the pair at Ilda.
“But she can’t fit in these…”
“Yes she can. Come on Ilda. Show it to the nice man that these are your jeans.” She said.
Karen repressed a laugh. It was quite a show looking at Ilda trying to put on the jeans as they were barely going higher than her fat knee.
“Then it must be Elda.” Said aunt Carla, taking the jeans off Ilda’s legs, sending her flying in the air at the same time, but Phil grabbed the jeans.
“Sorry miss, but they won’t fit her much better, she’s too fat. Now, Karen, I want you to try them.
Karen, her hands shaking, took the jeans and glided them up her legs, under her skirt. She wondered how she would be able to fasten them as they were so tight, but they slid softly on her legs, as if they were stretched. Puzzled, wondering if it was in fact the right jeans, she got the zipper up and fastened the zipper.
Then, magic took place, as the jeans started to shrink, moulding her body to perfection then squeezing it to maximum.
“That’s funny.” Said Phil. “A large number of women of about your shape put these jeans on, but they never act like that. I don’t know how you do it, but I’m sure it was you at the dance.”
Karen lowered her head and whispered.
“Yes, it was me.”
“What? You left the snack bar unattended? You brat…”
Phil got up and caught Aunt Carla’s arm before it could hit Karen.
“Nobody touches my fiance!” said Phil as he took Karen in his arms and carried her out to his limousine.
* * *
“Karen, do you want to take Phil as your beloved husband, to cherish him, to love him, and to wear the tightest jeans and jackets, and the highest heels as long as you both shall live?” asked the priest.
“I do.” She said, without hesitating.
“Then I hereby declare you, man and wife.”
Under the applause, they kissed while the rice was flying. Karen had quite a unique wedding dress: A completely white outfit, starting by white platform sandals with six inch heels, white jeans tightest than humanly possible, a white spandex shirt, very tight white leather jacket and gloves. Attached to the leather jacket was a white silk cape.
She was having her white tight wedding dream come true.
© Pete / monsterp63, October 4, 2005
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