“Hard Fashion”—an Erotic Speculative Fiction Story

The importance of dressing for success—and pleasure

Miss Kroner sat across the conference table from me, like the President visiting the mayor of her hometown. Her personal assistant, Ange, stood nearby.

I started with the usual holographic slideshow.  Miss Krone was unimpressed, and remained unimpressed when I began the demonstration using a robotic manikin, wearing the prototype as a belt.

I held up my gloved hand. “This device is the interface, transmitting commands by contact. I am now instructing the garment to take up one of its pre-programmed shapes.” With a touch, the prototype billowed into a mid-length black skirt. “Now with a pattern that has been stored…”

She stood up abruptly. “I am not interested in stored patterns, Doctor Günstling. I want to see your prototype in action.”

“Pre-programmed shapes and patterns are part of its function. I am following your requirements.”

“Pfaugh! Take them as read. Skip ahead. Show me movement.”

“Very well.” I keyed the glove again, and took the waistband of the skirt between the fingers of my gloved hand. The skirt billowed out into a two meter long cylinder of black fabric. “Now…” I keyed the glove again, and took the upper edge of the cylinder and started running it between my fingers. “I’m making the fabric contract just here, narrowing the fabric and giving it some elasticity.” I pulled the fabric up under the manikin’s arms, so that the stretchy band I had created was above the bust.

“Congratulations, Doctor Günstling. You have reinvented the muu-muu.” Ange laughed quietly.

I could feel the blood rising to my face. “Miss Krone, I am not a fashion designer, I am a nanotech engineer. You asked me to make this fabric for you, and I have done it, on schedule and under budget. If you want something else, tell me what it is.”

“First, get rid of this ridiculous machine. My clothes are for people, not robots.”

I nodded curtly, retrieved the prototype and sent the manikin away. “Miss Krone, I have had three offers of employment this month. If you are going to fire me—”

“Not yet, Doctor Günstling.” Without turning in the direction of her assistant, Miss Krone gave a terse command. “Ange, strip.”

Ange let her dress drop to the floor. Underneath she was completely naked. She smiled a little as my eyes met hers.

Miss Krone waved her hand between us. “Now… a proper demonstration?”

“Right.” Ange held out her arms and I placed the prototype just above her breasts. I selected a complex series of commands in the glove, and touched the belt. It rolled down Ange’s body, gently relaxing wherever her body needed a little more room, and contracting again when it could. It pressed her breasts down flat, squeezed her midsection enough that she gasped in surprise, and ran down over her hips. When it reached her legs, it pushed her knees together so hard that she had to hold out her arms to balance.

“Merde!“

I suppressed satisfaction at her predicament. “Are you okay?”

“Oui, I am good,” she said, a little breathlessly. “But it is very tight. I can barely move.”

I turned to Miss Krone. “I see what you mean now, about robots and people.” I keyed the command for a global release on the control glove. “I’ll have you out in a moment.”

“Wait.” Miss Krone pushed my hand away. “Ange, can you breathe?”

“Oui.“

“And is it cutting off circulation anywhere?”

“Non.” Her face was flushed.

“In that case let us not jump to any conclusions. You have intrigued me, Doctor Günstling. Show me more.”

“You have me at a loss, Miss Krone. I don’t have anything else.”

“Nonsense. You have created something entirely new here… something that could never have been done with conventional fabrics. You have a full body corset with no straps, buckles, zippers or laces. It just needs adjustment.” She touched Ange’s breast. “Such minimization is not in fashion. Loosen it.”

I held up my control glove. “Miss Krone, I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to—”

“It’s entirely appropriate, Doctor. Continue.” 

Ange nodded. “Oui.” 

I took a deep breath. Miss Krone asked for a fairly simple command, to change the elasticity of the fabric over a small area. I keyed in the command, reached out and ran my hand lightly over her breasts. The fabric sagged slightly, as it responded to the command.

Miss Krone looked her over. “You can make this go rigid, yes?”

“Yes. It’ll have the same strength as high-grade plastic.”

“Good. Now, pinch her nipples, and make it rigid that way.”

Ange anticipated my touch, arching her back.

I programmed the glove and took the fabric over one nipple between my fingers. 

The fabric firmed up quickly as I squeezed, trapping her tender flesh in a firm vise. Ange’s eyes closed and I heard a sharp intake of breath, and then another as I repeated the process on the other side. I suppressed a smile.

Miss Krone snapped her fingers, drawing my attention. “Can this thing produce sleeves? Can the skirt separate into trousers?”

“Not yet. We’re still working on the link-delink protocol.”

“Faugh. Details. ‘No’ is sufficient. No matter. There are plenty of possibilities here, even without that. You will have your funding, Doctor. Now, about this annoying naivete you seem to have with sexual matters.”

“What? I am not naive.”

Miss Krone confronted me with feet apart, arms crossed over her chest. “I have seen significant possibilities in this fabric for fetishwear, and that’s the direction you will take this project. If we are going to work together you need to learn the finer points. You may be sexually experienced by your own measure, Doctor Günstling, but not by mine.”

“You’re not hiring me for marketing.”

“I am hiring you to create a marketable product. If you are going to do that successfully, you will need to understand the market. I want to give your creative imagination the greatest possible freedom, and in order to do that your imagination must be freed from its constraints. You have a valid passport, yes?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Our flight to Copenhagen is the day after tomorrow, nine-thirty AM. You will join us.”

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