She was walking down the street, causing a reaction from pretty much everybody. Some had discussed grins, other surprised expressions, and some definitely showed interest.
But she didn’t care about the reactions of others. She was happy and her large smile was there to prove it.
She was slowly balancing her arms along her body, arms that were tightly enclosed in the black leather sleeves of her leather jacket. The sleeves were so tight that the contour of her arm could be clearly made out. More tight kid leather was covering her hands, wrapping her long and thin fingers individually, the long wrist of the glove disappearing under the tight leather sleeve, hiding the real length of the glove.
The opened jacket, cut to perfection to be worn that way, was allowing a peek on her body covered with a high neck, sparkling white spandex shirt. The shirt was so tight that her ample breast appeared somewhat squished down and that the definitive outline of a corset could be made out.
The corset was obviously crushing her waist to an incredible size where extremely tight jeans were taking the relay down her legs. The jeans were of a nice faded pattern, mid-rise and made out of non stretch denim. The seams ready to tear open clearly demonstrated the tightness of the garment. One could barely start to imagine the struggle needed to put them on.
The tight jeans along with the corset were making her middle body rather stiff, forcing her to walk by turning her body, twisting her hips. It was obvious that any long step would have been difficult, even painful as the hips were always struggling to bend.
But long steps were impossible. She was wearing a pair of strappy sandals with a spiky five inches heels, forcing her to make small steps at a relatively slow pace.
And she enjoyed every minute of it, with each breath, she felt the compression of the corset. With each swing of her arms, she could feel the tightness of the leather sleeves. The high heels forced her body forward, forcing her to get her breast out, squishing it even more against the already too small thick spandex shirt.
Then as she walked, her smile changed and her eyes widened. Her step slowed down as she gulped, trying to hide whatever was happening. With the next step, her mouth slightly opened and she delicately put a hand to the zipper of her jeans. She would have loved to put it lower, but she felt it was not the right place to do so. With the next step, she swallowed with difficulty, grabbing a nearby lamp post and closing her eyes, letting out a low grunt.
A gentleman approached her and inquired about her situation.
“Are you okay, miss? Are you in need of any help?” he asked, concerned.
“No, no, I’m fine.” She said in a soft whisper, reopening her eyes. “In fact, I’ve never been better in my life.” She said, smiling widely, eyes sparkling as she slowly started to walk again, leaving the man in awe, smelling her trail of soft perfume.
She had never experienced anything like that before. Well, yes, but not that powerful, not in public and certainly not while simply walking. She smiled as she felt the heat build up again in her private parts and she began to work her mind as hiding it better this time.
A pink smoky shadow seemed to detach from her and slowly rose in the air, apparently unseen by anyone else. The pink fume stayed there, as if it was admiring the body of the woman it had just left. Then like someone satisfied with a well done job, it rose even higher and floated over the city, like if it was searching for someone.
It slowly drifted toward the shopping mall, pausing in front of one of the many entrances. It was mid morning and people were regularly getting in.
Then as if it found it’s target, it slowly began to move toward a small group of people and hovered over one woman, then switched to another one as if it was not the right one, then went higher, to it’s lookout altitude.
Karen had parked her car and was walking to the entrance. She was happily hopping on her two inches wedge sneakers, her mid-rise snug fitting stretch jeans and her half t-shirt, cut to show her navel.
As she was reaching the door, she thought she saw some kind of pink fog moving in front of her then she felt a warm soft blow as if she was crossing a hot air stream. She almost tripped but caught herself quickly on the doorframe and entered the mall.
As she passed in front of many boutiques, she seemed attracted by tight fitting clothes. Oh, she liked it before but this time, she didn’t know why, she felt in the mood for it, but nothing was tight enough for her.
She entered the jeans boutique and began to browse the racks.
“Hello Miss, may I help you with anything?” cordially asked a clerk.
“Hum… probably. I’m looking for jeans. Tight jeans.”
“Very well.” Said the clerk quickly browsing the client’s figure to make sure that the tight fit would fit the bill. She had the perfect body for it. “How tight do you want to go?”
“Hum… Very tight.” Said Karen, looking at her with a smile, almost a wink.
The clerk smiled.
“Then I guess they should do it.” She said, picking up a pair of Diesel jeans she figured it was about three sizes too small, perfect for a stretch jeans tight fit.
Karen took them and headed for the changing booth. It took a while before she got out, rubbing her hips and thighs, tightly encased in the over stretch denim.
“Not easy to put on.” She said.
“The very tight fit doesn’t come easy.” She said, pointing the jeans.
And very tight they were, tightly wrapping her waist, hips and thighs. Karen moved in them, feeling the crease created behind her bun with her finger, looking at her stunning figure in the mirror.
“Yes, the look is perfect,” Said Karen, “but the feel is wrong.”
“Really? Maybe it’s because the legs are much too long” she said.
Karen rolled up the legs.
“Nope. Still do not feel right.”
” It’s probably the cut then. Let me suggest another brand.” Said the clerk picking a pair of Miss Sixty.
Karen went to the changing booth and got out a few moments later. To the eye, the fit was pretty much identical: so tight that they appear to be ready to split at the seam.
“They look great but… nope. They don’t feel right. Do you have them in classic denim?”
“You mean non-stretch?”
“Yes, exactly. Same size though.”
“Same size? You won’t be able to put them on.” Said the clerk handing a pair of indigo Levi’s.
Karen entered the booth and a lot of shuffling, jumping and elbow hitting the wall were heard. A few minutes later, Karen got out, panting, the jeans up to her crotch but obviously unable to close the front zipper.
“Told you. That’s way too tight.” Said the clerk. “Do you want to try a bigger size?”
“Hell no!” quickly answered Karen. “That’s the feeling I’m looking for. I’d like you to tell me how I can fasten this thing though.” She said, pointing at the large gap at the zipper, showing her blue satin panties.
“I… I don’t know. Usually a pair of pliers is okay for one size too small but this, I don’t know. A corset maybe.” She said out of the blue.
“Of course, a corset! Thanks. I’ll take them.” She said, heading for the changing booth and putting the pair of tight stretch Miss Sixty on and heading for the cashier.
“So you’re keeping those?” said the clerk pointing at the Miss Sixty.
“Yes and these.” She said, putting the non-stretch Levi’s on the counter.
She handed her credit card and off she was, leaving her pair of old jeans to the cashier. “Give them to the Salvation Army.” She had said, leaving the store.
She looked in the yellow pages for a corset manufacturer. There was one downtown. She took the bus to the store.
“Hello miss. May I help you?” asked a mature man, wearing a black jacket and a blue tie over a white shirt.
“Yes, I’d like a corset to be able to fit into those.” Said Karen, producing the jeans.
“Funny. You’re the fifth one in the last two months to come here and ask for a corset that way. Is it some kind of club or something, if I may ask?”
“Club? No. None that I know of. So can you do it?”
“Let me take your measurements, Miss.” He said producing his measuring tape and asking Karen to strip down.
After taking all the measurements, he showed her the corset options. She chose a blue denim one, Victorian style with breast cups. Of course, the cut was taking in consideration that she would be wearing tight jeans and not a dress.
One week was the delay to make it. She walked out of the boutique and headed for the nearest bus stop when she came across a fetish shoe store. She couldn’t resist but enter. There she went into amazement in front of all those high heels shoes and boots. She had never worn high heels before, only flats or the wedge sneakers she was wearing at the moment. A clerk came to her.
“Hello, I’d like to try those.” Said Karen before the clerk could say anything.
The clerk was wearing a tight fitting red latex dress stopping at mid thighs and with long sleeves. She was standing on thigh high black patent boots with a spiky heel. She stretched her arms and reached for a box.
“White platform sandals, two inches platform, seven inches heel. Is that right?”
“Yes.” Said Karen. “Perfect. May I try them?”
The clerk helped her put the shoes on and she walked in them.
“Wow.” Said the clerk. “It’s definitely not the first time you wear something as high.”
“Actually, yes.” Said Karen, all smiling. “Gee, those feel just great! I take them.” She said, unrolling her once too long jeans that were now falling just right.
“Very good.” Said the clerk. “Anything else?”
“No, I don’t think s… what is that?” she said, heading for a mannequin wearing a shiny PVC leotard.
“That’s our new leotard. High neck, long sleeves. Would you like to try one?”
The clerk handed one she assumed was the proper size to Karen. When she came out of the changing booth, she was stunning to see, her ample breasts tightly wrapped in shiny red PVC and the tight sleeves were making it as if her skin was made of vinyl.
“I love it, but I would like it tighter, otherwise I will have to wear a bra.” She said, making her ample breast balance in her hands.
“To have it tight enough to hold those would mean making it about three times as thick.”
“Can you do it?”
“Well, we do have our seamstress. I guess it can be done, let me check.”
She made a few phone calls and informed Karen that it was possible. Karen ordered one medium blue, and one red, both a lot smaller to accommodate her soon to be corseted waist, and very thick.
“Should be ready in a week.” She said “You take these also?” she asked as Karen was putting a pair of shoulder length black kid leather gloves on the counter.
Karen nodded and the clerk prepared the invoice. Karen paid and left.
She was back on the street. About one block down, she walked in front of a denim store and startled at an item in the display window. She entered.
“Hello, may I try this one?” she said to a coming clerk before she could ask her anything.
“That’s our newest model of denim jacket.” She said while browsing a rack to find Karen’s size. “It’s a little back to the 80’s, about hip length and non-stretch.” She said, handling one to Karen.
She put it on. The length of it was just right, as well as the length of the snug fitting sleeves, but something wasn’t right for Karen.
“I like it but, I’d like it tighter.” She said, grabbing the loose denim around her arm.
“I think it could be altered, we do have a seamstress working for us. How would you like it to be?”
Karen took a good grip on the sleeve and pulled the denim very tight around her arm.
“About like that.” She said.
The clerk looked puzzled.
“Our seamstress happens to be here, I’ll go get her.” She said, turning around with a strange look on her face.
She came back a minute later with another woman. Karen explained what she wanted and the seamstress started to take measurements.
“You really want me to make it that tight? Won’t be easy to put on, you know, if you can put it on, that is.”
“Don’t bother with that. When will it be ready?”
“In about a week.”
Karen paid in advance and left the store, all happy and confident, walking on her new high heels platform shoes.
The rest of the week was pretty much eventless apart from the fact that everyone in her entourage and at work, noticed her new habits of wearing everything very tight. She didn’t even remove her gloves to work.
One week later, she was back at the fetish shop to pick up her PVC leotard, the denim shop for her tight jacket and to the corset boutique to pick up her corset. The clerk helped her put it on while in the store, to show her the proper technique and some tips on how to put it alone.
When she got out, she was walking proud with her new extra thin waist, the belt of her jeans drawn many notches down. She was glad to have a belt where the design was made by punching adjustment holes the whole length of it.
She hurried back home. She threw the bags of clothes on the bed and quickly removed her shoes and stretch jeans. She got her new non stretch jeans from the closet and laid it on the bed along her PVC leotard, kid leather gloves and denim jacket.
She picked the PVC leotard first and pulled it up her legs until it rested snugly on her hips. Although her waist was heavily compressed, it was obvious that the PVC leotard was going to have to stretch to fit: it had been cut extremely tight.
Knowing that she would be quite impaired once all suited up, she did not put it on completely. Instead, she grabbed her jeans and pulled them up her legs up to the knee before fastening her shoes back on. Then she got up and proceeded with the leotard.
She had to work her arms in the tight sleeves very slowly, allowing it to heat and become more flexible thus permitting her arms to gently feed in. She welcomed the gradual tightness with a shaking breath. She had to wiggle a lot, getting one shoulder down and getting the garment over it, then the other shoulder, then pulling more on the sleeves. Finally it was on and what was left was to pull up the back zipper with the drawstring.
Easier said than done. Good thing she had asked for an extra-heavy-duty zipper otherwise it would have split apart half way up.
As she pulled it, she felt her large breasts being crushed but supported as if engulfed into a built-in bra. She welcomed the feeling and massaged her breasts, tickling her sensitive nipples with the tip of her fingernail through the thick PVC coating.
The next item was the jeans. She pulled on them and they stopped at the upper thigh. From there up, it was going to be quite a struggle, but since she had done it once in the changing boots, she knew she would succeed… with a lot of work.
After countless minutes of jumping, twisting, pulling and tugging, the crotch was as high as it would go. She could feel her thighs being crushed by the tight denim. The next part was not going to be easy, even though she was slimmed down by the corset.
She lay on her back on the bed and began to pull on the zipper, helped with a pair of long nose pliers.
Tooth by tooth, the zipper went up, a little at a time with each breath expelled. Eleven times she had to do the routine until the zipper was all the way up. Fastening the waist button was relatively easy.
It’s when she tried to get up she got a surprise. She was almost as stiff as a wooden board, from the upper chest down to the knee. The tight jeans were not giving anything, and linked to the corset, allowed her to bend very slightly.
Once up and her balance regained, she closed her eyes and slowly rubbed her hands down her body, starting at the PVC covered breasts, feeling the tight corset down under the PVC Leotard, then to her stiffly and tightly encased hips, feeling her tights compressed almost too much to allow her to walk normally. Her fingers quickly found the way to her crotch but she removed them with a devilish smile.
“Not now, Karen. Not now.” She said to herself.
She struggled to bend to pick the shoulder length kid leather glove and proceeded to feed her arms in it. Again, it was a struggle. She had to work a little step at a time for her arm to go pass the narrow wrist, and then feed her fingers one at a time. The gloves were simply too small for her hands, but she knew that leather stretches and that it would eventually conform to her hand.
And it did. Once fully in place, the leather was so tight that her knuckles could clearly be made out. She tried to close her hand into a fist but couldn’t. That’s how tight they were.
The last item: the denim jacket. The sleeves were already cut very tight, but that was not taking into consideration the two layers of clothes already on her arms. Putting it on was pretty much impossible. She had the feeling that she might have gone too far with this one and that she would have to get a new one a little less tight. But it was no time for it. She wanted to get fully dressed for an easy afternoon walk and she would do it.
It took her half an hour of struggling to put it on. Now, she could barely bend her arm. She was looking at herself in the mirror: a stunning tall and thin beauty, tightly encased in denim, and PVC. It was time for a walk.
The first difficulty was to open the door. She could barely bend her arm to reach the doorknob and almost couldn’t close her fingers around it. She liked the challenge, smiling even wider.
Getting down the three flights of stairs from her apartment to the street was also a challenge, but very much arousing and satisfying. Once in the street, she began to walk. She couldn’t walk fast, having to twist her whole body each time to get one leg in front of the other. She couldn’t make too long steps either, her high heels platform shoes preventing it.
She received many admiring looks from men, disapproving looks from some women and interested looks from others. She could feel her buns being squeezed with each step. She even put her finger at her bun, feeling it getting pinched in the crease, feeling how tight the jeans were. They were like huge massaging hands constantly working on her.
She was walking down the street, slowly but steady. Then one leg dragged behind and she slowed down. Her eyes widened and her mouth slightly opened as she grabbed a nearby parking meter to steady herself, holding her hand from reaching down to her crotch. An elderly woman approached her.
“Are you okay miss?” she asked.
“I’m very fine, thank you Ma’am. In fact, I’ve never been better.” She said with a small grunt as the first ever orgasm while walking was slowly fading away.
The woman walked away, puzzled and looking back, trying to imagine why someone would dress like that.
Karen recomposed herself and began to walk again. She would have to work. The feelings have been awesome but she has attracted too much attention. In the meantime, her heels were clicking and her body wiggling along.
“Concentration. Concentration.” She said to herself.
As Karen felt a blow of warm air, an invisible pink smoky shadow separated from her body and hovered over her for a short time before slowly flying away, searching for her next subject, the next woman ready to go to the next step, to a higher level, to a higher spirit.
© Pete / monsterp63, October 20, 2006
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