Bobby is a bad boy who is always stealing and dealing.
He also has a glove fetish. A black leather glove fetish to be specific.
Bobby's business is in stealing and fencing anything he can get his gloved hands on. If it's not tied down Bobby takes it. Bobby's life as a thief began when he was only a kid and would steal gloves. He amassed a very large collection of gloves by the time he was a teenager, and luckily for him, he had never been caught.
Bobby's luck changed when he was eighteen years old. By this time he was working for a car theft ring and was rounded up when someone snitched on the ring. He spent a couple of years in prison and vowed to never get caught again when he was released. This meant that he would always work alone and would always work hard to conceal his identity. He started wearing hoodies and dark clothing every day, and always carried gloves with him, usually a short and tight fitting pair of leather driving gloves. His fingerprints were now on file with the police so his gloves became his most important tool.
Late one evening, Bobby noticed that the back door of an office building was open. He pulled his hood tight against his face and slipped on his gloves. He was worried about cameras and for potential eyewitnesses. As he stepped in he drew his revolver. Security lights were on which gave him enough light to search the office for valuables. He put his gun back in his waistband and began searching through drawers and cabinets. His gloved fingers quickly moving through old files and other worthless things.
After not finding anything worth stealing, he found a small bronze-colored key. He became very excited because he recognized the type of key. It was a master key for a safe. A key that would be used to bypass a combination lock.
As he was admiring the key in his gloved fingers, he heard a noise out in the hallway and immediately put the key in his pocket and drew his gun again. All of a sudden the office ceiling lights came on which temporarily irritated his eyes. A man in a business suit then walked in and screamed. Bobby pointed the gun in the man's face and with his other gloved hand clenched down on the man's mouth. As the man calmed down Bobby took his hand off the mans mouth and told him while showing him the key "you show me where the safe is and we have no problems".
The man lead Bobby to a room down the other end of the hallway. He removed a mirror off of a wall and exposed a metal safe door. Bobby pushed the man into the corner of the room and opened the safe with the key. Sitting in the safe was a canvas bag with a drawstring keeping it closed. He pulled the bag open and his eyes lit up green! Piles of fifty and hundred dollar bills. Thousands of dollars in untraceable cash!
Bobby pulled the bag out of the safe, and noticed a large padded envelope underneath it. He placed the bag back in the safe and pulled out the envelope. He stuck in his hand, and expecting to pull out jewelry or more cash, he instead felt something soft through his gloves, like a piece of fabric. He pulled out this fabric item and his eyes lit up again. They lit up gleaming black. Bobby pulled out a pair of worn but incredibly soft and supple black kidskin leather dress gloves! He brought them up to his face and smelled them. They smelled of leather and after shave lotion.
"You don't want those gloves... They will only bring you trouble" the cowering business man said to Bobby.
"Screw you... And they look like my size" Bobby said to the business man.
Bobby quickly grabbed the bag of cash and stuffed the gloves into the bag, and then made his escape from the office.
Bobby ran almost all of the way back to his apartment. He felt euphoric. He had stolen thousands of dollars and of course, the cherry on the cake was that he scored the kidskin gloves. The cool winter air soothed his sweaty gloved hands and sweaty face and torso underneath his hoodie.
When he got home he first counted the money, which came out to almost fifty thousand dollars! He then bundled the money and hid it away. While still wearing his driving gloves he took the kid dress gloves out of the bag and sat down on his bed with them. He unsnapped and removed the driving gloves and placed them on his nightstand. He took off his hoodie, pants, and shoes, so that he was now only wearing his under cloths and socks. He struggled to pull on the kid gloves. They were unlined and suede clung to his skin. They were so thin and fit him so tightly that they felt like a second skin. He admired all of the detailed stitching, most of which was internal, and followed all of the lines in the leather, both natural and from wear, and dreamed about where the gloves had been and what they had ever touched. He started to become very turned on. His gloves literally were his partners in crime and in life. He explored his barely dressed body, sliding his gloved hands over every inch of his own exposed skin. Every time Bobby would acquire a new pair of leather gloves he would "break them in" this way and was always careful to never soil them. When he was done he fell asleep.
Bobby woke up a few hours later. He brought up his hands to rub his eyes and realized that he was still wearing the gloves. His hands were sweaty which made the gloves very difficult to take off. After struggling for a few minutes he finally got them off. The wrinkles from the seams had left indentation in his own skin.
The next day Bobby had a big job. He was hired to steal samples of new chemicals from a laboratory. A company in competition with the laboratory was paying Bobby to steal samples that they wanted to duplicate and sell as their own.
Bobby prepared for this break-in and heist by obtaining a map of the laboratory from the competitor and getting together all the tools he would need. He packed a backpack with a crow bar, hack saw, hammer, pliers, flashlight, and lock picking kit. He wore dark clothing and a hoodie again, but also wore a ski baklava mask and sunglasses because he was worried that he might get photographed by facial recognition software. Because he knew that he would need to use his hands and fingers freely he would need a good pair of thin and tight fitting gloves. He decided that he would wear his new kidskin gloves because they fit like a second skin.
The break-in was easier than he thought. Bobby easily picked all the locks and bypassed the one electronic combination lock. The map of the laboratory marked an "x" where the samples were located. Bobby opened a refrigerator door and carefully removed vile after vile and packed them in a padded container in his backpack. As fast as he was in, he was out with the viles. He met up in an alley way and exchanged the container of viles for cash.
By the time that Bobby got home from the job, he had been in the same cloths, including the kid gloves, for hours. As much as he tugged, he couldn't get the gloves off of his hands, and it felt like the more he pulled the tighter they became. He thought of using a knife to cut them off, but then decided to wait until the morning when hopefully his hands would be less sweaty and swollen.
When Bobby woke up in the morning he tried to take the gloves off again. To his surprise and terror, the gloves had attached themselves to him! He couldn't find where the cuffs of the gloves ended and where his wrists began. The gloves went from be a second skin to being Bobby's skin.
Terrified, Bobby grabbed his gun and left his apartment for the office building where he had stolen the gloves from.
When he got to there, the entire office was empty and dark, except for the room with the safe. He walked through the doorway and the businessman he held up was there sitting at the desk. He said to Bobby "I have been expecting you". Bobby pointed the gun in his face and said to him "what the hell are these gloves? Get them off of me!" in a more panicked than aggressive voice. "Those are no ordinary leather gloves young man, they are a cursed pair with an evil history" the businessman said sternly. "What do you know about them? Do you know how I can get them off" said Bobby. "I was you many years ago, wearing those same gloves to commit a crime. I stole them from an elderly couple who I was doing business with, and I wore them to handle forged documents, and when I was done I couldn't remove them. They had become part of me. The old man and old lady knew they were cursed and knew what would happen to me. They were the keepers of these gloves before me, and I don't know how many keepers these gloves have had. The story that they told, which they believed, was that the original owner and wearer of the gloves used them to strangle a witch who cursed the murderer and gloves with her dying breathe. If that story is true, I wonder if it is the witch's spirit that is alive in these gloves. The elderly couple had me swear to the gloves that I would never use them to commit a crime again. Eventually the gloves loosened and I was able to get them off. They told me that the part of the curse that I can never get rid of, until another person used them for evil, is that I forever would be their keeper. I don't wear them very often because they have this mind and spirit of their own. I do put them on once in a while because they, or she, enjoy being worn. I also have a glove fetish, and I know that these gloves know it too. If these gloves could talk you and me and many other people would be in trouble" the business man explained.
After a couple of hours the gloves loosened from Bobby's hands and he was able to pull them off. The businessman placed them back in a padded envelope and put them back in the safe behind the mirror. He offered Bobby a job in his business, now an honest establishment, and said that the gloves can stay in the safe for as long as he was running the office.
When Bobby got back to his apartment he opened the drawer where he kept most of his gloves. He looked at them with nostalgia, and for the first time in his life began to feel guilty for the victims of his crimes, especially for the people whom he had stolen their beloved gloves. His gloves had always saved him from prosecution, but that one pair of kid gloves had saved his soul.
