Thanks to Peter for the storyline idea. I hope it’s in the direction you imagined. – Pete.
“It’s too tight, Lynda.”
“No Karen, it’s… NOT” she said as she yanked on the nylon thread with a pair of pliers. “Just suck in your stomach a little. It’s almost… DONE!” she said as she yanked it again.
She knotted the nylon thread and cut off the excess.
“This feels really tight.” said Karen.
“Stop whining. This is only two inches smaller than your regular waist. Your jeans are tighter than this.”
Karen didn’t answer. Lynda had a point and she was dead on. Her regular jeans were starting with a “two inches too small” size. She turned around in front of the mirror, looking at herself, looking stunning.
She had on a full body denim catsuit. It had just a hint of spandex to make it easier to put on, but also more body contouring. It had been a struggle to put on and to close, but with Lynda’s nylon thread closure, there was no zipper to cut off the smooth finish of the faded blue denim.
Karen ran her hands from her chest, which was pretty much the highest she could raise her arms in the tight sleeves, down to her thighs. There was no wrinkle, no lump, no bumps. Just a smooth layer of very tight denim. The suit also had a very high collar reaching up to Karen’s neck.
The legs of the catsuit had a basic boot cut. They had been cut especially for the boots she was wearing, knee-high kid leather platform boots. The platform was two inches, but her heel reached an astonishing 8 inches, making her 10 inches taller, but with a net heel height of six inches!
“Walk around.” Said Lynda. “I want to see it move.”
Karen proceeded. She startled at first with the effect of the crotch seam on her. Each time she was bending in some way, being a catsuit, it pulled on the crotch seam, making it bite into her private parts.
Her boots with the incredibly high heels were giving her very long legs.
But what was the most astonishing was that there was absolutely no seam visible. Lynda had found a way to make the suit without obvious seams. It looked like it was knitted that way.
Karen walked back and forth in her apartment, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. With each step, her buns got squeezed and were looking for a place to go, but there was none. One single crease line was getting created.
The suit had patterns as if back pockets and a waist belt were present, but they were only drawn on the suit.
“It feels wonderful,” she said. “How does it look?”
“Impressive. But to test it fully, you should, you know, move?”
“I am moving, I am moving.” Said Karen, walking faster, flapping her arms in the air, feeling the tight sleeves reaching the base of her thumbs somewhat flexing with the movement.
“No, I mean really move. You need a challenge.”
“Like go around the block?”
“No, more than that. I have it. Come with me.” She said, picking her purse.
Karen didn’t have time to argue, Lynda was already out the door, getting downstairs. She followed, struggling to cope with the speed Lynda was walking.
“Wait for me! I’m impaired, you know.” She said.
Lynda waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. It was easy for her to walk fast. Although they were very tight, she was wearing stretch jeans and had platform sneakers with a three inches wedge heel. Karen was struggling, taking a hold on the ramp, twisting her legs to get down.
“I can barely bend forward, and I can’t get my knee too high, the darn crotch is biting me.” She said, blushing.
“You’ll get used to it. Come on.” Said Lynda, walking to her car.
“How do you want me to… right, just lay down.” Said Karen as Lynda opened the back door. She laid on the back seat while Lynda drove off.
“Where are we going?” asked Karen.
“To a place where you will be able to really… test the suit.” She said.
Lynda drove to the abandoned section of the port. There was an old abandoned hangar. She parked near the rusted fence.
“Come. Here nobody will see you struggle, and you’ll have a lot to work with.” She said as she pulled away a large section of the chained fence.
“You seem to know the place.”
“I came a few time myself to… try out stuff. Ever climbed a ladder with double dildos and pair of rubber panties? I did.” She said with an evil smile. “That’s the only place I could try such crazy stuff without attracting too much attention.”
“I see.” Said Karen, trying to keep her balance on the loose dirt.
After a few minutes walk, they reached the broken asphalt pavement and they walked more easily to the hangar. The door was wide opened and they entered. Karen heels were making loud noises in the empty concrete and steel building.
“Creepy.” She said.
“Come on, we have two hours before dawn. We should be gone by then, squatters and homeless take over the place after that.” Said Lynda.
Lynda had planned a path where Karen had to go over some tubing, climb the above mentioned ladder straight to the second floor, crawl through a small opening, walk a suspended walkway that didn’t appear to be willing to stay suspended much, then walk down a long staircase.
For every move, she had to twist her hips, raise an arm. All of which was pulling on the crotch of the suit, making very a disturbing rubbing. But in no time did Karen felt the suit wanted to rip apart, much to her dismay. It was tight, but almost comfortable.
It needed stretch panels.
At the end of the path, Lynda was waiting for her near what looked like a huge pool.
“You don’t want me to take a swim, don’t you?”
“What? No, not here. I’m not sure about this stagnant water, but a dip in the sea would be a nice final test, don’t you think? It’s just 100m away. Come on.”
Lynda led the way and Karen followed, but she put her feet on a steel rod, which rolled under her feet, making her lose balance.
Wearing ordinary clothes, she could have easily got her balance back, but with the high heels and the constrictive suit, she felt backward, directly into the filthy pool of water.
Lynda rushed to her and extended a hand, helping Karen get out of there.
“At first, I wasn’t very hot at your idea of dipping into the sea, but now I would say it’s a must! Geesh, this feels gooey.” She said, wiping her head and hairs. Slime looking strands of liquid were dripping on the floor.
“Let’s go.” Said Lynda, leading the way. “Who knows what stuff is laying at the bottom of this water hole.”
They rushed out of the building and ran the hundred meters or so separating the hangar from the seashore. There wasn’t time to test the water temperature. Karen jumped in head first as Lynda stayed dry soaking only her hands to wash them.
“Cool!” said Lynda. “Whatever it is, it’s peeling off like plastic wrap.” She said, pulling a long band from her hand.
Karen was walking back to the dry land. She was peeling the stuff off her hairs. It had made a coating on them but it was being removed rather easily, including on her face and hands.
Her denim suit was soaking wet, and extremely shiny.
“Wow. That gave it a nice shiny look.” Said Karen, rubbing her hand against her tightly encased hips. “And it gives it a nice smooth feeling too.”
“Funny, looks like latex denim.” Said Lynda. “Cool! Whish I could know what’s this stuff so I could coat all my garments with it.” She said.
“Depends how long it stays on it.” Said Karen. “So far, it seems to be more resistant than on my skin.” She said, trying to pull a layer off, but it had entangled itself within the fibers of the denim, and wouldn’t let go. Karen pulled harder.
“No, don’t do this, you might break it. Better leave it there, I’ll do some tests at home.” Said Lynda.
“You’re the designer.” Said Karen, letting go of the rubbery coating. “Oh wow, have you seen that?” she said, pointing at the sun setting.
The sky was turning bright red, coloring everything with hot tones from yellow to deep red. It was reflecting on Karen’s shiny suit, making wonderful patterns. Karen turned around, making the effects move.
“Geesh. I guess you didn’t use pre-shrunk denim, right?”
“Yes I did, why”
“Because it appears to be shrinking, and a lot.” She said, putting her hands to her waist.
“Wow! I can almost see it happen in front of my eyes!”
“Well, I don’t know if the goo is responsible for it or not, but better take some action before I get crushed to death.” Said Karen, panting, eyes wide, feeling not only her waist being constricted, but also her chest, arms, neck, buns and legs.
Lynda put her fingers in the collar and tried to tear it but couldn’t.
“I need something sharp.” She said. “I have some tools in the car.”
They ran toward the road. For Karen, it was mixed feelings. The panic feeling of getting crushed, and the arousal feeling of everything getting squeezed with each step, increasing the rubbing at her crotch, the pressure at her breasts. Each step was a turn on.
Finally, they reached the car. Lynda had arrived a while before her and had already her utility knife ready. She instructed Karen to turn around while she tried to cut the collar.
“Shit. Can’t cut it. Is it still shrinking?”
“No, it has stopped. But what do you mean, you can’t cut it?”
“Ever tried to cut plastic wrap with a butter knife? Well that’s about the same. The knife blade goes in but it’s like the denim had transformed itself into some kind of rubber, so the blade doesn’t cut it. Let’s go home, I’ll try something sharper.”
They got back into the car, of course, Karen laying on the back seat. With each bump, her denim suit was creaking like a piece of rubber. Once home, they got back to Karen’s apartment where she tried again to cut her off.
After an hour, they both collapsed on the sofa, exhausted.
“Knife, razor blade, scissors, pick, shear cutters, drill, even fire didn’t do a thing to that suit.” Said Karen. “What now?”
“Don’t know, Even your boots are covered with this stuff and are stuck on. Seems that it didn’t stay on skin but sip inside dead matter like leather and denim.”
“Yeah, Seems that I’m stuck in this. I’m used to two inches tight jeans, but this has crushed my waist five inches.”
“Isn’t this all your wildest dreams combined? You’re enclosed into a denim catsuit with a rubber finish. The suit is tighter than what you could have imagined. You have high heels on your feet which can’t be removed and a built-in corset with a five inches waist reduction. Aren’t you happy?”
“In a way yes.” Answered Karen.
“But?” asked Lynda.
“How do I pee?”
© Pete / monsterp63, July 28, 2006
We are sorry that this post was not interesting for you!
Let us improve this post!
Tell us how we can improve this post?