THE GLOVES

- a fetish fairytale by Mark Bennett

Another weekend had come and it was time for Jasmine to pursue her favorite activity - shopping. But rather than pursue the latest high street styles she followed her unique look and loved to shop in used clothing stores and vintage collectable markets. Today's target was Snoopers Paradise.

The market was somewhat of a wash out, nothing much of interest at all for clothing but she did spot a pair of short black gloves amongst the bric-a-brac. They were short and had an odd texture too them. Were they leather?

She caressed the odd gloves while she sat drinking espresso - thinking about them wondering about their history and how they ended up there. Also why had she bought them - they were hardly cheap and they weren't a designer brand. But then there was nothing else to satisfy her shopping urges so best to come back with some token of her quest. Jasmine had started a glove collection. While modest it did reflect a cross section of styles. But she had as yet worn any of them out as she thought to herself she had nothing to match with them. But they did create a perpetual loop that fueled yet more clothing shopping...

Walking back to her flat she had a sudden irrational-able urge to sit down an re-examine the gloves. They were definitely not leather. Plastic? Latex? Rubber? She thought to herself. What was their secret allure? As there was no one around she decided to try them on. As she donned them the texture of the surface changed into a slick and glossy black. Almost oily. They were tight too but somehow soft at the same time. She mused to herself too bad they aren't long to match the rest of my collection. The gloves stretched in a remarkable way and now she was able to pull them up to her elbow. These aren't leather she realized she continued to pull them on as far as she could. There was a noticeable change in the material as soon as she put them on and they almost flowed like a liquid up her each arm.

Her arms were like too long black snakes now. Even against the sky they showed no texture beyond the black gloss. She liked them - they were the best find of the day. She decided to keep them on at least till she got home. They felt so good, caressing her arms in a tight embrace which also seem to constrict her movements in an odd way.

Plans to take them off fell by the wayside when she got back to her flat. The dishes from the week had piled up and needed washing. She was wearing latex gloves so why not just keep them on to do the dishes?

Jasmine kept on making excuses not to take them off, telling herself they were very comfortable and felt just so lovely - almost intoxicating in feeling. She crawled into bed and slept with them on, the black gloss reflecting back the full moon's light.

The next morning she awoke with a clearer head. She had remembered though a haze buying the gloves and irrationally stopping in some back alley to try them on and how they mysteriously stretched from short to long shoulder length and how their appearance and the very material had changed from a dull surface to the lovely slick gloss. She ran her latex fingers up and down each arm. Then attempted to remove the glove. No luck.... they weren't coming off. Shit - she was scared but after a few more vigorous tugs followed by more sensual stroking of her latex arms the desperate urges seem to evaporate to be replaced by thoughts of how to mix and match her wardrobe with them.

The day at work she didn't even try to explain her black latex hands to her colleagues. It was just after all just one Jasmine's quirky fashion tastes she was already well known for. After all who knows - in a year or two every woman maybe wearing gloves at all time when 'fashion' dictated that they were back 'in'.

Sensual as the glove may have been; Jasmine was still worried. While she loved the erotic tight feeling and the look of the gloves she had an inkling something was seriously wrong and that they were somehow seeping into her. Although that was a just plain crazy thought. She stopped at a tattooist to see if they could offer any help. The man commented on what a really good black the gloves were and asked who had done the work and what ink had been used to get the glossy finish. He assumed that the gloves had been tattooed on as he could find no separation between the flesh and the black.

As the weeks pass the gloves became part of her life. She couldn't take them off and except for some odd glances at work no one seem to mind. The long sleek and glossy gloves made her more fashionable at night and she regularly was getting complements from women about them. They would just come up to her and ask where she got them and how could they get a pair. Jasmine would let them examine her hands stroke her arms. Each touch would send warm shivers up and down her and she was becoming addicted to the feeling of the gloss. They would smile too and keep a jealous eye on her for the rest of the night. But she was now worried for another reason; she was becoming increasingly stiff in her elbow and wrist joints to the point they only wanted to move in certain directions.

Life continued as it does with the daily routines. The increasing limitation in her arm movements were beginning to get annoying. No one had noticed yet and it wasn't painful but there were definite fixed axis's seemingly developing on her joints. She also had problems holding things properly and for the first time in a long while she cut herself shaving her legs and then made it worse as she managed to cut her other leg too.

Sound asleep she was unaware of the small razor nick opening up and a black ooze slowly dripping out and spreading over her leg. Both of the minor cuts had tendril like black something coming out while the ever growing center area developed an all too familiar deep shiny and slick gloss to them.

By 3am the gloss had spread and completely covered both legs. Jasmine had strange but very erotic dreams that night as the sensual feeling of latex haunted her.

In the morning she awoke to find her legs completely covered in the same black latex as the gloves but now in the form of very long stockings that reached up to her bottom. She examined them from every direction but could find no seam. Her legs were now match long shapely tubes of slick black latex like her arms. She was scared and called in to work sick as she curled up in bed and tried to think of a plan.

But by the evening the latex had soothed her mind with gentle ripplings of pleasure from any contact with her legs. She decided to go out to and didn't have to dress in much to complete her outfit of her new matching gloves and stockings. She continued to have the same stiffness and limitation in her joints which had now really progressed in her arms.

She awoke with a fright in the middle of the night. She had a really good time at the party and all the women were asking where she got the gloves and stockings from but the smoke machine had been set at high and she was constantly rubbing her eyes. Something had changed. She felt different.

It had been a couple of weeks now since she had woken up feeling different and she now had to wear sunglasses of one sort or another all the time now. How long could she get away with such eccentricities at work she wondered.

She remembered then back to the previous night and wished she hadn't rubbed her eyes - somehow the material of the gloves had spread and her eyes were now black reflective pools of inky latex.

Her dreams had rapidly become darker and kinkier over those last two weeks. Her arms now snapping back to fixed positions when not concentrating on doing a task and even then they would only work in a specific way. Likewise her walking was becoming a uniform glide as her joints became limited. She felt she was taller too.

Jasmine sat playing with the knife against her soft belly. "If a small shaving razor nick let loose a spread of liquid latex - what happens if I were to cut myself elsewhere....."