New story from Seteyan, reflecting my long standing obsession with sweaters. As always I welcome authors to send their own SEQUELS!!
STOP HERE if you are too young or sexually repressed.
SPACESUIT by Seteyan (Copyright Seteyan)
I had never seen a sweater so tight.
She stood up, and I watched her unbutton her jeans, thinking this has to be a dream. The sweater caught the late afternoon light and lit up along the edges, framing her breasts in a halo of soft curves. She rolled her paints down at the waist. There just below her belt line I could see the sweater continued, still tight, still form fitting, it slid down her back, along her broad hips. She pulled her pants back up.
"All the way to my feet", she said, sad and scared, "and I can't take it off - it won't come off!"
She had been babbling like this for more than an hour now, as the sun went down, this stranger who had walked in off the street. She had not introduced herself, she had just started talking, and I had listened, mesmerized by her frantic claims and her unusual appearance. She had the most curvaceous body I had seen in a long time, some people might have called her fat, but to me she seemed almost sculptural. She was big, six feet easy, and her wide hips were set off by her breasts, bigger still, which made her waist seem tiny. Her thighs also started big, wide and powerful looking, but her calves were thin and graceful. She had this shock of black hair that ended in unruly bangs right above her pale green eyes. Her face was strong, angular, not especially beautiful, but striking. There was definitely something about her. I mean aside from her outfit - she wore jeans, and hiking boots, not uncommon for the North Country - but the SWEATER...she was wearing this tight grey sweater bodysuit, this weird knit with nothing underneath, and that was her problem.
I could not help but stare at her extremely large breasts, two white globes that seemed to be supported by the fabric of the sweater, lifted up, against all laws of physics. It was absolutely unreal, the look of the thing. But then she was claiming that this sweater came from another planet.
I should explain: I get some crazies walking into my lab up here, like this far North they think science can cure anything, answer any question- but this was a bit much. This woman, as attractive as she was, sounded like a nut. She must have seen the disbelief in my face because she suddenly stopped talking and pulled the fabric from her arm, the sweater had long sleeves that ended at the wrist, and she yanked the fabric out towards me.
"Go ahead", she said, "try and get it off"
She reached for the scissors on my desk and as she did I noticed her unfettered breasts sway gently underneath the weird grey gold fabric. They brushed the edge of the desk, and I could almost glimpse her cool white flesh, the pink of her nipples through the weave. But then it changed. The size of the threads, the yarn, whatever, they shifted, and suddenly the sweater seemed different; it had been thin and almost transparent, with a delicate halo or fuzz, and then it was thicker, and dense. Even the color deepened, a darker grey. It was bizarre. I thought it might have been a trick of the light, but from what she had been telling me I doubted it. She pushed the scissors at me.
Maybe she WAS right, but I was not about to cut the sweater off of her body. No matter how exciting the thought was to me, and I was excited, I couldn't just start cutting a new hole in the clothes of a woman I barely knew. She looked at me, and the scissors she held out to me. Then with a sigh she stretched out the fabric, which yielded to a certain extent, and slipped the scissors through one of the diamonds in the weave. And she snipped. And cut. Carefully she cut all the way around her arm. And I watched wide-eyed as the fabric knit itself back together, like a living thing! The weave seemed undisturbed!
I sprang out of my chair, and ran my hands over the cut. Nothing. There was no sign of it. The feel of the fabric under my hands can only be compared to cashmere, or angora, it was so soft and almost silken, but the appearance was more like a heavy wool, and I was surprised it did not feel scratchy or, well, woolen. I sat down on the desk, shocked at the alien quality of the whole experience. I put the scissors back down on the desk next to me. Her green eyes were looking up at me, under her dark dark bangs, imploring me. She was genuinely scared.
"O.K.", I said, loosening my tie, "let's start at the beginning again."
And she told me this story, the most incredible story I had ever heard:
She had been working a solo research post on the Bering Ice Floe not more than six hours from here, tracking movements of the glacier. It was lonely work, but I got the idea she enjoyed being alone. Well, a week ago she had been out on the ice over some pretty deep water, a bay somewhere, I didn't recognize the name, and she had suddenly heard a high pitched keening noise. She said it happened in a matter of seconds, the noise, the light, and then a crash, something slammed into the ice not Œ00 yards from her. Whatever it was had cracked the ice floe, the twenty foot thick ice floe, and had thrown her and her camp into the subzero water. That will usually kill you - time in the water up here is like entering a nuclear reactor naked - the longer you stay in the more you die. But she said the water seemed to be superheated by whatever had crashed through the ice; the steam cloud, she said, was so intense it was like being blind. But when she finished thrashing around in the water and was able to get a hand on a loose ice floe, she knew that she would die if she stayed in the water. And then IT surfaced. She said it floated up like a dead fish from under the boiling sea, grey-skinned, huge, shaped like a seed pod or a zoaplankton. It was obviously a spacecraft, and it had obviously crashed, the gaping hole in the side was proof enough of that. She also realized that the heat radiating from it was the only thing keeping her alive, already the chill was creeping through her drenched parka. So she swam towards it, and was able to reach the edge of the hull before her legs went numb. I could tell she was a strong girl, but that sounded like superhuman effort. Even more incredible, she was able to lever herself inside the ship, sliding through the gaping hole in the side of the hull.
Inside the ship the air was heavy with steam and some sort of chlorine smell. She said the interior was full of curves, that all of the shapes seemed organic, but there was no sign of life. She said that the ship was heavy with silence and death, and she never once thought that she was not alone. I was riveted, incredulous that this woman had seen a spaceship, but she said she had been much more interested in staying alive. So she did what she had to do. She crawled out of her wet clothes, already getting stiff with cold, and crawled deeper into the ship, looking for any source of warmth. And there she found the sweater.
She didn't call it a sweater, she always said "suit" or "it", but whatever it was it saved her life. She found it on a tier of crystalline platforms, thrown aside like a piece of garbage. It was basically man shaped, shorter and thinner than her body, but a suit of woven threads with arm holes, leg holes (she said there may have been rooom for more than two legs, she couldn't quite remember) and it felt warm and soft. Better than being naked.
So she had slipped it on. She said that first moment was thrilling, it felt like she had put on some one else's skin. It seemed to fit perfectly and it was almost instantly warm. She crawled deeper into the ship and passed out with exhaustion.
When she awoke in the morning she panicked for a moment, something seemed to be clouding her vision. After a frantic moment, gulping for air, clawing at her face, she realized the sweater was COVERING her face, that somehow it had sealed itself around her head. And as much as she pulled it would not come loose. She ran then, panicked, trying to get out of the ship, which was dead quiet, and cold, the artic air whistling in through the gaping hole. When she reached the edge, she could see a little better, and the fabric seemed to have thinned a bit, but as soon as she stepped out onto the ice floe it sealed up, thickening, growing tighter, warmer. She understood somehow that it was trying to keep her alive. Around the edges of the derelict craft the ice floe had reformed, and she stepped out, a walking grey sweater, and did not even feel the ice under her feet.
She walked like that for a full day, growing accustomed to the feel of the fabric moving across her naked body. In the daylight she could see fairly well, the mesh filtering out alot of the glare. It kept her warm, even at night. When she slept, it expanded around her, becoming thicker and thicker. In the noon day sun it would thin out.
I stopped her there with an obvious question, "How did you go to the bathroom?"
She blushed slightly, and I apologized, but I was a scientist after all. She agreed to show me after much hesitation, and even made me lower the blinds. Then she climbed entirely out of her jeans and boots, until she was standing in front of me, naked but for the thin layer of delicate woven fabric stretched around her body. I felt my penis stiffen involuntarily. She was so lovely, a vision really. I glanced at her pubic mound, slightly raised at her crotch, and thought I could see a dim black shadow there. She stretched slightly, and her breasts strained against the suit.
Then she turned around so I was looking at her bottom, also stretching the alien fabric to the limit. She concentrated for a moment, and the fabric thinned out around her ass, becoming threadbare, transparent, and then it was gone, and her white ass hung free for a moment. I stared in surprise, but then she relaxed and the cloth wove itself back together around her bottom, without a trace of ever having been disturbed.
She faced me, her face flushed with effort or embarassment. I was flabbergasted. I asked about control, if there was any sort of mental trigger, or was it all physical, but she just sighed and sat down. She looked defeated, tired. I touched her shoulder, feeling once again the tingle of warmth that permeated the soft fabric. She shivered slightly at my touch, and under my fingers the sweater thickened, grew denser. I drew my hand back involuntarily, it was just so unreal, and she looked up at me with tears in her eyes.
She continued telling me her story, how she stumbled through the frozen waste, warm but numb with fear and hunger, until she had come on an Inuit village. The only person who saw her was a small child, who ran in fear. She was able to steal some clothes, and in town she begged some more, and then she had come to see me. And she was beginning to feel entirely hopeless. I tried to comfort her, but she shrugged me off. I watched her move through my lab, her beautiful body rippling under the woven bodysuit. I was hard before I knew it, staring at her soft curves.
She wandered into the anteroom, and I followed, with lust clouding my every thought. She lay there on the sofa, looking up at me with her eyes still wet but burning now. She said, "You want me, I can tell." She sounded sad, but not upset. She gestured with one hand, pulling me to her, and I fell on her, smothering her in kisses. Her body yielded under the soft, soft sweater. She laughed. She said, "You can have me, if you can get to me." Lust boiled through me. I groped my way over her body, feeling her breasts underneath the weave stiffen. I gripped the collar of her "spacesuit" and tugged. It stretched down and out from her body, but I could only pull it so far, before it reformed again close to her body. She meanwhile was unbuttoning my shirt, tearing at the belt buckle that was holding my pants up. I tore savagely at the sweater, trying to tear it away from her body. It moved like quicksilver between my fingers. She got my pants off, and grabbed my stiff cock through my jockey shorts. I grunted and tried to bite through the fabric at her nipple, which was as big as a raspberry and hard. She pulled my jockey shorts off with her toes, wriggling underneath the sweater. She was sweating, hot with excitement, and the fabric of the bodysuit thinned across her body, until I could see her white skin clearly, like she was wearing a furry fishnet stockings all over her body. I slithered out of my t-shirt and rolled on top of her, feeling the wonderfully soft fabric brush my skin. She breathed deeply at my ear. I raised my hips and slid my throbbing penis across her midriff, feeling the fuzz along the sweater's surface caress my hard on. She moaned and opened her legs. I plunged in, still tearing at the fabric with my hands. My penis could feel the heat of her thighs. The friction was becoming unbearable. I thought I might cum between her legs, but then she sighed and the sweater opened up, I felt it move like a living thing. I was astounded, as it crawled back along her skin, leaving a round opening right at her crotch. She seemed surprised as well, but spread her legs eagerly. I pushed into her. After the friction of the alien fabric, her sex felt warm and wet. I rocked back and forth, still running my hands over her sweatered body. I even tried to suck her nipple throuhg the webbed fabric, and had almost teased one out, when she put put her hand over my eyes.
"Close your eyes", she whispered, "Feel me."
I did as I was instructed, and felt her strong thighs wrap around my hips. She pulled me in tight, and all over my naked body I felt the tease of the alien sweater, the texture like an aphrodisiac.
It intensified as I rocked inside of her. I felt hotter, something covered my skin, but she kept her hand over my eyes, and I edged closer and closer to cumming. It was almost unbearable, the heat increased, and my whole body felt covered in this prickly tactile sensation. I moaned-
And felt myself rudely pushed away. I fell from the couch. I put my hands out, and did not feel the floor.
She was looking down at me smiling cruelly. I did not understand. I looked down at my body. The sweater had GROWN onto me! As I watched it finished weaving itself around my groin, and in a second had formed a tight knit shell around my hard-on. I moaned again, and exploded despite my confusion. And as I came, the sweater grew - up my neck, up to my chin, and over my face. I lifted my hands to my face, trying to grab hold of the encroaching fabric with my encased hands, but she lashed out, and pushed me over. I felt the fabric seal at the top of my scalp, covering my short hair. I found it a bit harder to breath. I scrambled to my knees trying to stand up. Through the weave everything was dark and fuzzy, and it was difficult to get my bearings. Just as I reached my feet, I heard her say something, in a language I could not understand. I turned at the noise. She stood behind me, looking grim. She still had the sweater around her body, which confused me, but it was still there. Lighter and thinner than what was going on around me. As she spoke, fibers reached out from my ankles and wrists, and drew my legs and arms together. I teetered in my cocoon of soft fabric for a moment, then fell again, onto the sofa.. A second weave of fabric was encircling my body. In seconds I was held tightly in a web of surprisingly strong mesh, my arms and legs bound fast. Even then I refused to believe that something so soft could be so unyeilding. I was like a worm caught in a spider's web, wrapped into a spindle by the predator.. I bucked and writhed within the coccon but could feel the impossibility of my situation. I called out, but as soon as I opend my mouth the coccon around my head folded inward and effectively gagged me. I was forced to breathe through my nose as I fought the rising panic.
She was right next to my ear: "The less you struggle, the more comfortable you can be."
I moaned through my gag. It smelled like nylon, like mothballs, and like...something else. The taste was just as indefinable.
She left me there to return to the lab. I heard her rummaging around in there for a while. My mind raced with possibilities of escape, of friends who might stop by. Then she was back, fully dressed, and I watched her arrange my discarded clothes in a man-shaped pile. She laughed. Then she actually lifted me onto her shoulder in a firemen's carry. My head bounced up and down in time with her breasts. Her strength was surprising even at this point. She carried me to the door of the parking garage, and eased it open. I moaned in desperation . It was empty. Of course it was. I was always the only one here at this hour.
She hummed quietly as she crossed the asphalt. I saw my car for the last time. She went to a white panel van. I had never wondered how she had arrived. She opened the doors and I saw for a moment OTHER coccons, other bundles piled in the back! Then she put me inside and shut the door.
Whatever or whoever was next to me moaned. I tried to answer. The engine started and my heart fell.
We drove for close to an hour, bumping along. I was right next to another human being, obviously as frightened as I was. I thought it was probably a woman from the shape, but our coccoons had puffed up into furry masses to protect us from the cold (just as she had described), and the outlines were not exactly clear.
At one point we went around a sharp curve, and we were all thrown together. There were a series of muffled yelps, and then I felt my woolen suit swell, almost as if it was trying to protect me from harm. I was very warm, and on the whole not uncomfortable, but my mind was racing with fear. What was to become of us? Were we really flies for this female spider driving the truck? Were we going to die? And if we were, why was I becoming excited by my situation, sexually excited by the feeling of the alien wool, and the bondage, and the other bodies around me?
Finally we reached our destination, and a low moan went through the coccooned lying around me. They probably felt the same way I did. The back of the truck opened and we were all bathed in this brilliant light. I could see despite the fibers that we were in an enormous chamber. Our captor stood over us, even in silohuette I could recognize her. Suddenly she reached down and touched my semi-rigid member, bound as it was in its own separate pouch. She laughed again, and I felt the red sting of embarassment fill me. I wanted to say something, to demand my release, but before I could SHE spoke a few words in that alien tongue, and the suit around me pulsed with life. Like a living thing. And suddenly I was hard as a rock, and feverish with desire. I moaned as it constricted around me, and I could tell by the sounds filling the truck that everyone felt it. The suits were doing something to all of us, doing something sexual. My mind went blank, as I felt the pressure increase on my hard on. Our captor was rolling us out of the truck into a pile of human bodies. The feel of a squirming warm body beneath me filled me with pleasure, and I bucked my body in time with the waves of pleasure.
And then they stopped. I felt the coccoon loosen and instead of feeling relief I could only feel regret. Our captor spoke, telling us to stand up. We all did, rolling off of each other, feeling the cloth separate into legs and arms, until we were all standing but still completely covered by the fuzzy bodysuits. Our captor explained in clipped sentences that if we ran, the suits would constrict and possibly kill us, that if we resisted, the suits would become very uncomfortable, but if we followed her commands, we would survive what she called "this experiment." She barked another series of alien syllables, it sounded like Japanese being played backwards, and we could see and breathe easier. Then our arms knit themselves together, a large ball forming around our hands, and each ball sent out a psuedopod which fastened around the neck of another. Now that I could see, I was amazed to find that there were only five of us, three women and two men. And although I could not see their faces, the women's bodies were..well..beautiful, under the gauzy bodysuits. One woman was obviously bigger than the rest, big-boned is the polite way of saying it, and the sweater stretched thin across her breasts made me stare. I could not even imagine how I looked to them. Escape flashed through my head, I wondered if we all ran at once.... But now we were effectively chained together, and struggling might choke the person in front of us. At least that was how I felt with the tight coil around my neck. Our captor marched down through the empty chamber, and only them did I realize that the room we were in was not man-made. Not made on earth anyway. We all were silent, the soft pads of our footsteps hardly even audible.
We marched this way for at least ten minutes, down long sloping corridors that reminded me of a scaly throat. The walls seemed organic, but somewhere deep below us was the hum of machinery.
Finally we entered a strange room that glowed like the inside of a heart. All around us, through translucent partitions, I could see various coccooned shapes, some lying on the floor, some even hanging from the ceiling. I thought I saw a woman in the distance staring at me, but then the light shifted and she dissappeared. Our captor spoke again, and the human chained parted, we were released. The ball of material around our hands dissolved, leaving us in intricatley knit gloves. I started to feel strange again, as the suit pulsed in time with the room.
Suddenly the other man in the group ran at our captor with a yell - he was clearly intent on harming her. But almost immediately his legs were knit together into a solid mass. He fell to the ground, but kept trying to crawl towards her. She spoke another sharp command, and the man was encased in a tight ball of the woolen material, and then that ball LIFTED itself up off the floor, attaching itself to the fibrous ceiling and hung there, twitching with anger.
I was amazed. It had happened so fast. One of the women, the tall skinny one, started to cry. I was felt like doing something, helping, but only then did I notice that my feet were knit to the floor.
Our captor turned to go then, and said the last thing she would ever say to me our any of the other abductees. She said, "Six more and I can get out of this fucking sweater." Then she was gone. I started to feel the pulse of the room in my suit, in my own sweater skin, and I could not ignore the sexual energy building in me. It was like the fibers of the alien material had insuated themsleves into my skin, into the pleasure centers there. I looked around me and noticed for the first time that the other coccons scattered across the floor were moving, humping with the pulse of the room. And they were big, too big to hold just one person.
I moaned once and turned to find the large breasted woman in front of me. She was breathing hard and I watched her breasts rise and fall beneath the sweater. The material thinned at the apex of her nipples, dark targets against her pale skin, and I reached out without thinking. When our suits touched it was like a current of electricity went through me. I could feel her somehow through the suit, I could feel her skin as if it were my own. We both moaned in the grips of an overwhelming sexual urge. Our forms meshed, and the alien sweater flowed around us, forming a single coccoon. I felt her hips and her waist, and her legs, as we knit together, into one mass of human desire. And I knew why we were there. THEY, they wanted us for sex. For sex and desire and perhaps for what that produced. But for now, underneath the weave of our second skin, I did not care.
The alien craft hummed with our pleasure.