Let’s get you into these fuckers

Tight trousers, thrusting skinny hips and a little spanking. What more could you want?


Characters: ,





Length: words

Notes: Written in December 2006. Posted to own journal but not on BSH.

Let’s get you into these fuckers by The Lizard

“After three… one, two, three!”

Julian gritted his teeth and pulled upwards on Noel’s trouser waistband with all his might. Noel jerked upwards and cried out in a mixture of pain and concern for his testicles, as the black denim dug deeper into his crotch. He paused to get his breath back, eyes watering slightly, before glancing up and whining at Julian:

“Why did you make me have that last profiterole!? You know they aren’t on the GI Diet!”

Julian took a step away from Noel and leaned back against the walls of the gents’ toilet, flexing his fingers in an attempt to get the circulation in his hands going again. He exhaled and silently surveyed Noel who stood on one leg, then the other, almost toppling over in his attempt to squeeze his whippet-like physique into clothes made for a seven year old.

Noel excused himself from the restaurant table. About ten minutes later, Julian felt his mobile phone vibrate gently in his jacket pocket. He politely apologised to his dining companions and discreetly checked the display. The text was from Noel and read simply: “HELP! IN LOO.”

With a certain amount of confusion and concern, Julian left his coffee to investigate. Running a hand across his beard, Julian visualized Noel pressed up against the urinal while being roughly bummed by a giant fox on crack… He paused for a moment outside the toilet door and listened. A series of grunts and moans came from inside.

Taking a deep breath, he cautiously pushed open the door and peered in.

Noel lay on his back on the floor, wriggling his pipe-cleaner legs, his skinny hips furiously thrusting up and down. His trousers were bunched up around the top of his thighs as he attempted to hitch them up further. They were apparently unmovable. Noel swore and kicked his heeled boots in frustration.

Julian entered the loo and closed the door. Noel glanced up, suddenly aware of Julian’s presence. Julian looked down at him, quizzically, and then he did what any good friend would do: he fell back against the wall, bent double, in hysterics.

Noel stared up at him in desperation. “This isn’t funny! Help me, you twat!”

Julian laughed until he began to cough.

As Noel stood up, teetering on the tip-toes of his pointed boots, he sucked in his stomach as much as possible and tried again to force his trousers up past his buttocks.

“I’m not like you! I have to keep slim! I can’t pack it all away and not care!”

Julian snorted: “Oi! Watch what you say, Twiglet boy!” Stepping forward, he reached down, taking hold of Noel’s waistband again, pushing his large thumbs against the skin of Noel’s pale upper thighs. Standing face-to-face, Noel placed his hands on Julian’s shoulders and braced himself again for another painful manoeuvre.

Julian raised an eyebrow: “Maybe you should try buying clothes made for adults?”

Noel’s fingers tightened their hold on Julian.

“It’s called style, Ju. Something you know little about… OW!”

Julian roughly yanked up Noel’s trousers a little bit harder than was probably necessary. “Oh, SORRY!” he mock-apologised, grinning.

Noel’s wincing turned into triumph as he felt his buttocks give up the struggle and slide into the rear of his jeans. “Yeesss!!”

Julian glanced down between them at Noel’s open flies, lowering his voice, almost conspiratorially: “Do you need a hand with that too?”

Noel stiffened slightly and threw a sideways glance at the door: “Now? But I’ve only just got them back up….”

“What? No, you prannock! Your flies! Can you fasten them up?”

With slight relief, Noel removed his hands from Julian’s shoulders and set about attempting to bring the buttons and zip together. He span round on his heels, tugging and making noises like a constipated stoat.

Growing increasingly exasperated with this scene, and aware that their fellow diners would be wondering where the hell they had got to, Julian grabbed Noel, turning him round so that Noel was facing away from him. He reached around to the front of Noel’s waist with his large hands and took a firm hold of the trouser fastening.

“Let’s get you into these fuckers, bitch.”

Grunting and shoving against one another, they performed a bizarre waltz around the tiled ballroom, Noel pressing his back into Julian as he jiggled up and down. Just another inch…! Noel willed his jeans on as he lifted a boot and placed it against the wall, attempting to find purchase.

Suddenly the toilet door swung open. Noel and Julian froze in their backward embrace, and watched in fear and shame as a middle-aged man entered. His face fell and he stopped dead in his tracks. Flushing, he hurriedly apologised and turned, leaving quickly.

Julian sighed. “Great! Now everyone will think we’re bumming in here!”

“I don’t care! Just help me get these fucking things done up!”

As they continued to perform their dance around the lavatory, button and fastening inched ever closer together. With one enormous groan, Noel felt the metal disc finally slip through the fabric, slumping forward, exhausted.

“No, you don’t!”

Thinking quickly, Julian forced Noel to stand up straight and gripped the zip, jerking it upwards in one swift movement. Noel momentarily grimaced as his genitalia were squashed into submission. As the throb subsided, he consoled himself with the thought that he probably didn’t need his genitals when he looked this sharp.

Propping himself up against the wall, Julian pushed back his hair and exhaled.

“Can’t you get some kind of catheter fitted?”

Noel made a few final last adjustments, parting his legs and pinching at his groin, adjusting the material so it lay just right. “Maybe I’ll borrow yours, old man.”

Julian gave a lop-sided smile. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Noel stopped to check his hair in the mirror. Perfect.

As they left the lavatory, Julian stood close behind Noel and gave him a firm but playful slap on his backside, mumbling into his ear.

“So, you little tart, when did you stop wearing underpants?”