Life catches up

All,

Life sometimes gets complicated, so it might hard to publish anything new in the next 6 weeks or so. There's more coming, just need some time...

The Lady of Chadwick Manor (part 3)

Editor's note: this material might seem familiar to some readers. It's heavily influenced by the writings of 'd'. Those writings are still rolling around, enticing creativity. Enjoy.

"If only I could reach the straps holding my wrists!" I thought.

I was exhausted. My feet were hurting, my toes squished into the pointed boots by the high heels. My archs tired from wearing the highest heels I had ever worn. Shifting from one foot to the other to relieve my tortured feet had ceased to relive my tortured feet long ago. But if I could release my wrists I could get rid of my boots... and this excruciating corset. But the buckles were far from my reach. My wrists were tightly strapped on opposite ends of the lacing bar, so there was no way I would be able to use my hands. But maybe if I could only reach the buckles with my mouth! Before leaving me alone to get "accustomed" to the tight corset and high boots mistress Barbara had lowered the bar, but had it been enough? I was still standing in the small platform, perched in my high heels, so it was a balancing act. I minced with tiny steps to the edge of the platform, bringing my right wrist closer to my mouth. The buckle was still good six inches away from my mouth. I tried pulling down on the bar with my weak arms, a futile attempt to get the buckle of my wrist restraint to where I could unbuckle it with my mouth. I was feeling slightly dizzy from my weakened state, still panting in the tight corset. Trying to breath, trying to balance in my high heels at the edge of the platform, trying to reach the buckle... I felt a tug, the bar was raising again!

I looked around and saw Miss Barbara standing in a corner.

"Going somewhere? You're not even dressed up yet! Let's continue lacing your corset"

I lowered my head in defeat, there was no way to release myself from the lacing bar, and they knew it. I knew it, but I didn't want to! I tottered to the center of the platform as bar rose and I was left precariously balancing on the tips of my boots. Ohh my poor toes!

I could feel the corset getting tighter along my poorly stretched body. They kept pulling and pulling, making the corset tighter. They would pull with each breath I exhaled, knocking out my wind and making me fill lightheaded. It felt like torture but I imagined I was like any other bride to be in upper echelons of society. Or so I hoped.

"We're not making any progress... We have to let her get used to her current reduction before we try to close the corset. There's no way the dress will fit over this." Johanna said, pulling away from the laces of my corset and walking around the platform, examining me.

I started to cry. "I can't take it any more, please..."

Miss Barbara interrupted me: "If you had been put into a strict regime of lacing at an early age, this would have been much easier, but we can make it work with some effort and a bit of inconvenience. But don't despair, any temporary discomfort will be worth it once you attain a proper figure"

"It's clear there's nothing like strict corsets and high heels to keep unruly teenage girls in check!" Johanna said with a smirk.

"And most importantly, a properly fitted corset is evidence of a well–disciplined mind and well–regulated feelings.”

"We'll let you get used to your corset, and then we'll come back to keep fitting you."

With that I felt the lacing bar come down, relieving my stretched arms, but putting pressure in my toes. However, as I was taking stock of the new posture imposed by the corset and high heels, I noticed that my boots were fairly well padded on the inside, as snug as they were. The relief was short lived, as the thick shoulder straps that were attached at the top of the corset were pulled back, and much to my surprise, crisscrossed and tightly buckled. My shoulders were quickly and firmly pulled back, and my breasts were pulled high and out in a very prominent way. But that was not enough.

"I see what you were telling me... The straps might not be enough..." Johanna said.

"Yes, just as I expected. It's good we have the posture stock already here. It will come in handy." 

And with that I was led to a large apparatus covered in a thick fabric cover. The cover was removed revealing a large wood structure, somewhat cross shaped, with some leather padding in the top section. The whole apparatus was set atop a wooden platform. I was led atop of the platform. There were several straps hanging from the contraption. Miss Barbara pushed me against the main post of the socks, as Miss Johanna started fastening some of the straps around my shoulders, waist, thighs and calves. I was pinned to the stock.

"Dear Evelyn, the posture stock will help correct your posture. It seems the corset and shoulder straps are not enough, so we have to use the tools of the trade to ensure you are ready for your wedding. I must you warn you that it is not a confortable device to endure, but we can make head way on your posture while you get used to your corset."

While being strapped to the stock was somewhat restricting, it wasn't severely distressing... and then I heard a clicking sound. The straps began to tighten, forcing my back against the curved post. Even through the thick corset I could feel the pressure, arching my back and pulling my shoulders back. Click by click my body was crushed against the stock.

Miss Barbara came into my field of view.

"There we are, we'll come back in a while to tighten your corset." She courtesied and walk away, as I tried to his back my tears. 

I don't know how long I was strapped to the stock. It was agony having my shoulders pulled back so harshly, but I still dreaded the impending lacing of my corset.

By the time they came back to lace me again, I was happy to be let out, even if it meant being hung back in the lacing bar. At least it was change in posture. They released me from the posture stock, and unexpectedly to me, released my shoulder straps. That little respite was only so that I could reach up to the lacing bar. 

The lacing continued, although I could never imagined how they could squeeze my body further. And yet at the end of the tugging and pulling, it wasn't enough.

"My dear, we're making progress, but not enough yet. We'll let you rest for a bit before we continue."

I was led to a chaise lounge in one of the corners on the room, where I laid down. Resting felt amazing. Soon I dozed off into a fitful sleep, from which I woke up several times panting and trying to get air into my lungs. I don't know how long I was sleep, but eventually I was woken up by Miss Barbara. I was taken to a small en suite restroom where I was able to relieve myself. The feeling of normalcy of going to the restroom gave me strength for the ordeal I knew was forthcoming. 

I was promptly strapped onto the lacing bar. This sequence of events continued, including periods strapped to the posture stock. I don't know how long it continued, but I was never allowed to removed my corset or leave the fitting room. It could have been three hours, it could have been three days.  I was feed the same diet as while inside the cast, since they were concerned I wouldn't be able to handle a solid diet yet. With my tummy squeezed to nothing by the corset, I was concerned I wouldn't be able to go back to a regular diet ever!

Fraction by fraction each excruciating inches was squeezed out my waist, until Miss Johanna finally decreed that my during could continue. They buckled the shoulder straps, locking back my shoulders in a very exaggerated post, so much that it was hard to raise my shoulders to get a full breath.  I was expecting to be fitted with my wedding dress, however a plain grey dress was brought out. It looked very similar to the dresses the servants wore, but in a light grey instead of black. 

"Am I not going to be fitted with my wedding dress?" I asked.

"Well, of course. But not yet. We still have to get your waist smaller. Meanwhile, and while we take care of your general deportment, this will be your uniform. Besides, Johanna is still working on your wedding dress," Miss Barbara responded. "But before we put you into your uniform, we'll put a padded under jacket. This is just to protect your dress from all of the buckles and hardware on your corset."

Miss Johanna brought out a short vest, and helped me put it on. My arms were so pinned by the shoulder straps that I doubt I could have put it on by myself. The vest was in fact padded, and was fastened by four drawstrings, which were adjusted to ensure a snug fit against my corseted body. I imagined that the drawstrings wound allow adjusting as they pulled in my waist, if that was possible at all! The best was made out of a tightly woven twill, and between the fabric and the padding, it was easy to see how it could protect the dress from the corset's hardware. But what would protect my poor body and skin from that monstrous corset? 

"What's the point of lacing my corset so tight if you're going to wrap a bulky vest on top of it?"

"Don't worry dear, we care about the size of the inside of the corset right now. And yes, the vest does add some bulk."

A long pain petticoat was tied around my waist, followed by a another very close fitting petticoat made in thick leather. The larger petticoat had back lacing to close around my waist, as well as two straps with buckles just below my knees and just above my ankles.

"My legs are so restricted, I won't be able to take a regular step."

"As should be. Ladies should never take long steps. Your leather petticoat will prevent that. You will soon learn to limit your stride."

"Ok, and I'm not even wearing the dress yet."

"In a moment, we still need to fit you with a few more accessories."

A third petticoat, quilted in a beautiful flowery pattern was next, its purpose to give some body to the dress. Which seemed ironic given that my legs were pinned inside the leather petticoat. A fourth petticoat, white and beautifully ruffled was next. By this point I was already sweating, trapped under layers and layers of cotton, thick leather, quilted fabric. Only my arms below my elbows were free, but judging by the uniforms worn by the maids I was sure that wasn't going to last. Elbow length black leather gloves were produced next, and painstakingly pulled over by arms. They were tighter and longer than any of my gloves, but also made of suppler luxurious leather. It took a good 10 minutes to get pulled over my hands, and once pulled out severely limited the motion of my hands. Perhaps they needed to stretch?

The next item seemed excessive. A tight fitting coif was fitted over my head, leaving only my face free. It seemed to be made from the same material as the dress, it was thick and warm. It reached down all the way down to my neck. Miss Johanna started lacing the woolen garment from the back. As it was getting tight, a claustrophobic feeling embraced me. I protested.

"I'm not wearing this, why would I wear anything like this?"

"A married lady, such as you will be in no time at all, should dress modestly. The coif will keep your hair out of sight. Plus it draws attention to your pretty face. I know it might get very hot and burdensome underneath all those layers, but that's the price of demur and decorum. Don't worry, you'll get used to it in time." Miss Barbara cut me off. I was too tired to try to resist more.

Finally the dress was brought forward. It was pulled over my head and my hands pulled through the sleeves. I immediately noticed how thick the material was. Not only was the outer material of the dress thick wool similar to my the material of my winter coats, the inside was lined in a similar material throughout. The dress was plain on the outside, but the details were on the inside. The wrists and the collar were lined with a much stiffer material, a thick twill material. The collar felt specially restrictive as it was closed around my neck, overlapping the already tight coif. The neck of the dress was so high and stiff that it immobilized my neck. I tried to raise my arms, but the sleeves were so tight that I could barely raise them to shoulder level. After the back was fully closed, Miss Joanna proceeded to close the buttons of the sleeves of the dress, which closely fitted my wrists. I glanced at my reflection, and it was impressive. Despite all the layers I was wearing, my waist was minute compared to my padded and propped bust above, and the billowing skirt held by many petticoats below. The dress was plain but elegant. But it was striking to see myself covered from to to bottom, only my face free. Was this the way high class ladies dressed? It seemed unlikely, but certainly no expense had been spared on my wardrobe.

"Let's fit your cape now."

The cape that they brought out was imposing. From the outside it looked very plain, just a floor length cape made from what seemed just a thicker weave of the same wool material of my dress. But when Miss Barbara opened the cape, I was able to glance at the inside, which looked like a thick down comforter, done in a lighter version of the same wool fabric. In no time the cape was wrapped around my shoulders, and I felt the weight of the garment. It was even more substantial than I could have imagined. The quilting on the inside was firm, but as the cape was around me, it gave way just enough to conform to my body and pin my arms to my side. The cape looked very generously cut from the outside, but inside it was very snug. It took a long time to get all of the buttons closed, there must have been over twenty buttons!  And it took almost as long to close the hook and eye closures fastening the flat that covered the buttons throughout the full length of the cape. From the outside, the cape erased all features of my body, it looked just like a big bundle, with my coifed head sticking out at the top.

I tried to pull my arms through the arm slits, but it was so tight inside that I couldn't seem to find the openings.

"I can't find the arm slits," I said.

"That's because there are none.  The cape will keep your dainty little hands out of trouble."

"Wow, I wouldn't wear something this thick unless going out in the most severe snow storm!"

"Dear, but this is just your indoor cape."

The Lady of Chadwick Manor (part 2)

part 1

Left alone in the dark, I finally had a chance to assimilate my situation. The plaster had cured and was now stiff and unyielding. I could breathe if I took slow shallow breaths. Anything else left me dizzy and panting. My chest and stomach were held immobile. I tried to move my fingers, which were somewhat free. That little bit of movement helped me to focus on the fact that I could at least have some control over my body.

Soon, I felt a rumbling, the machinery started turning me over. I was soon hanging face down. My body was so well supported that I hardly felt any strain. I even started to doze off in that contrived position. Soon the rumbling began and I was put in a face up position again. The throbbing in my teeth was the only thing that was keeping me company.

Soon the door to my chamber opened, and I was blinded by the light coming in. Barbara and one of the assistants came into focus.

"How are you feeling?"

"I... I'm... I'm ok."

"Ok dear, we're going to give you something to drink."

"What time is it?"

"Don't worry about that. Just try to relax."

They have me a thick milky drink out of a plastic bottle, using a straw.

"We need you to keep your strength."

Meanwhile one of the assistants was changing my diaper. It felt good, it was one of the few exposed areas of my body. One of the few areas in which I could feel anything.

I drank up to the last drop of the liquid. I was thirsty after sweating profusely inside the hot curing cast.

"Can I have some more to drink?"

"Not right now my dear. You need to drink little by little. Your stomach doesn't have much space to expand. You don't want a tummy ache inside a tight cast, believe me."

The machine started rumbling, and I was soon inside the chamber, back in the dark and quiet solitude of the chamber.

The hours or days passed by. It was hard to keep track of time. It was hard to keep calm. Every now or then the urge to move came, but there was nothing I could do, I was held fast by the cast. I could feel my muscles twitch within the tight confines of the cast. The machine would rumble every so often and would turn me over, but I had no sense of direction, no sense of time. Eventually I didn't know if I was hanging upside down or right side up. Only when Barbara came to feed me my liquid sustenance did I know that I was facing up.

The time passed, I tried to keep track of time by counting the number of times I was fed or the number of times I was flipped, but it was useless, things were hazy and I couldn't keep track after five or less. In the boring slumber of my prison I started to become more aware of my body. First I noticed that my muscles started to twitch less. Then I noticed that I could squirm a little. Was the rigid cast giving away? Was I going mad or was my body getting accustomed to it's new form fitting shell? I could not really tell. Barbara kept refusing to tell me how long I had been in the cast, out how long I had left.

It came as I surprise when the machine pulled me out and instead of feeling the now familiar sensation of having my diaper changed, I was yanked out and placed on a gurney.

"Good morning, dear. Today we're removing your cast to get your measurements! You've done very well so far," said Mistress Barbara.

I could feel my eyes tearing with joy. I would have jumped with joy if I could move at all.

They moved my immobile body to the casting table, and began to saw off the cast with an electric saw. It tingled as it cut open the different pieces of my cast. As my limbs we freed, they were left limp, too weak to move after their imprisonment. I tried to move them but I had little control over my body. They washed off my body with wet sponges, removing all of the muck that had accumulated over my skin. Even though my skin felt significantly more sensitive, it felt amazing to feel the cool air blow over my body. I tried moving my weak arms, and little by little I started to regain control over them. 

Two of the assistants helped me to my feet. My weak legs were trembling with every step. Wearing nothing but a loose bathrobe, I was taken with to a room with no windows, and a small platform in the middle. A middle aged seamstress stood to the side, wearing a similar uniform to the one the nurses were wearing. A measuring tape slung around her neck gave her occupation away. She introduced herself as Joanna.

I was helped onto the platform, where the seamstress took every possible measurement around my body.

After the measurements were taken, double checked, and entered into a clipboard, I was led to the dentist chair. The dentist was already there. I ploped on the dentist chair after the nurses let go of me. I was so weak I wasn't going anywhere!

Quickly, Dr. Garrett placed a lip retractor, exposing all of the metal work in my mouth. The doctor quickly cut the elastics holding the arch wires on my top teeth. With a soft pull he removed the wire. Dr. Garrett took a new wire and fixed it to the back brackets. With small pliers, one by one the doctor installed new elastics, fixing the new wire to my brackets. He repeated the same procedure with my lower jaw.

"You will feel some pressure as you get used to the new wire." By now both my upper and lower jaw were hurting with a dull ache. I brought my weak fingers up to my mouth and began to explore the foreign material in my mouth. It was the first time I had the chance to pay attention to my metal mouth, now that I was free from the cast.

Mistress Barbara slowly walked into the room and put her hand on my shoulder.

"It's time to put you back in your cast..."

"Wha... What do you mean?"

"Dear, you've only completed half of your procedure... But don't worry, you're doing great, it will be over in no time at all."

My mind knew exactly what was happening, but was repressing it. "How long are you going to put me back in the cast?"

"Don't worry about that. You're almost there, dear. You must be brave."

They carried me to the casting table where mistress Barbara and two other assistants repeated the same procedure, wrapping my body limb by limb in heavy plaster. This time around, my arms and legs were too weak to even shudder as I was being mummified inside my cast. This time around, the cast felt much more snug. Not tight, but almost. And there was nothing I could do. I was left on the casting table for a while why the fans blew away the some the heat generated by the curing plaster. It was hot inside, but there was nothing I could do, I was could only anticipate with great apprehension being put back into the box.

After the cast was cured, it was time to put me back in the box. So sad must have I looked as I was being placed back inside my dark prison that in the last glimpse I had of Mistress Barbara, I could see her eyes sightly tearing up. But I knew that even that slight sign of empathy or compassion would not ease the strict regime to which she was subjecting me. I had become resigned to enduring two more weeks of imprisonment in my cast.

The next two weeks, or what I thought was two weeks, seemed to go faster than the first stint in the body cast. Maybe it was because I was resigned to my fate, maybe because I just felt too weak to fruitlessly fight the unyielding plaster. But at least I did not have the urge to move around I had the first time I was imprisoned in the cast. The only thing that occupied my mind was the throbbing in my mouth from recently tightened braces, but even that subsided eventually, leaving me in limbo.

I don't know how long I was in the cast for the second time, I felt so defeated I didn't even try to keep track of time. But I do remember that every time the door to my dark compartment opened, I hoped that I would be released. And invariably disappointment invaded me as soon as the last sliver of light dissapered as the heavy door was closed. I would sometimes sob, but I felt too weak to even cry. I even stopped talking when the nurses came to change my diapers. What could I possibly talk about? The boredom? The restriction? The muscle twitching that you can't do anything about? The panic of being woken from an uneasy slumber by loud machinery at random times to be turned over? Yet, in my catatonic hopelessness, release did come. I did not realize I was getting out of the cast until I was placed in the table and felt the buzzing of the saw cutting the rigid plaster. The feeling of air on my free skin was as glorious as the first time I had the cast removed. I was too weak to try to move, so I just lay there, taking in the sensations that most people take for granted, but had been denied to me. The sweet feeling of fresh air on my skin.

"The seamstress is here. She will take your measurements and verify that they reached the targets we have for your wedding dress. Hopefully two casting sessions have been enough and we won't need a third one."

_________________

Two of the nurses had to carry me to the platform to be measured. I could not stand on my own. I tried to cooperate, but inside my mind I was in panic. "A third session inside that dreadful cast? I can't, I just couldn't take it."

Once on the platform, Joanna approached and repeated the measurements. She took the clipboard and showed it to mistress Barbara. I dared not look.

I heard steps and mistress Barbara stepped in front of the platform, were the two nurses were still holding me up.

"You've done great. Your progress was amazing. We can start fitting you now." She smiled, and I let out a sigh in relief. I was not going back inside a cast!

Joanna came around and took out the contents of an elongated box. It seemed familiar, but I couldn't make it out. Meanwhile, the assistants were removing the bathrobe and having me step into very loose and long bloomers. On top they were buttoning a short sleeveless top. It was fitted, but there was no way the flimsy material could support my bust without a brassiere underneath.

Joanna approached me and wrapped the contraption around my mid section, clasping it closed in front. And soon as she hooked the studs running down the front I could feel how stiff it was.

"Now let me make sure you're chemise it's nice and smooth underneath your corset before we start lacing it."

A corset? An old fashion boned corset? I couldn't imagine. It was in a diferent level than even my most strict girdle, a boned and zippered longline girdle that pinches me everywhere and makes me malhumored after wearing it for just a couple of hours (but mother still insisted I wear it on Sundays despite my protests).

"I won't be able to move in this thing." I protested.

"A real lady doesn't need to move much, my dear. Men move, they go places and do things. Ladies just 'are'. And it's your role as a lady if society to 'be' the most delicate, graceful, composed, and disciplined. A corset is a wonderful aid in achieving this ideal." Mistress Barbara said.

"And I even would add indispensable. I cannot imagine how it could be otherwise." Mistress Joanna chimed in as she was adjusting my chemise and my corset, making it snug.

Meanwhile the two assistants were guiding my hands to a metal bar that hung overhead, connected with a chain to a pulley attached to the ceiling. They lashed my hands to the bar using thickly padded leather straps, making sure I would not go anywhere until released. I did not know then, but this was a lacing bar, and we were going to become regular acquaintances.

I heard a clicking sound, and I felt my arms being pulled taunt until I was standing in tip toes.

They kept lacing my corset. Every pull would knock out the air out of my lungs.

 "Please take me out of this thing! It's already hurting me!"

"Hush dear, a corset takes a lot of time to do its job. As your body settles into the shape of the corset you'll be a little bit more comfortable."

As I was concentrating on breathing against the lacing of the corset, one of the maids was raising my right foot, which were already on tip toes, and pulling up long woolen tights. Next she fitted knee length leather boots with high thin heels. She started lacing the boots, having to redo the lacing several times as the stiff leather began to conform to the shape of my legs. Once the boot was tight enough she tied the boot laces and proceed to do the same with my left foot. Given my predicament I was glad to have some support, even if my feet were now held in a forced arched position in the highest heels I had ever worn.

"We'll let you take a break to get accostumed to the corset. We'll be back in a few minutes to continue lacing you."

I was left alone standing in the platform, standing in my high heels, my wrists still strapped to the lacing bar. I was panting and felt lightheaded from all the recent activity.

... To be continued

The Lady of Chadwick Manor (part 1)

Editor's note: for those of you that have read some of my previous material, will notice that this deviates from the normal elements I use. But give a chance to our heroine to tell her tale... this will be a long tale.

How did I end up in this predicament? It's hard to phantom how everything led to this. But I'll try to start from the very beginning, and I'll tell you the story of how I became the lady of Chadwick Manor.

You can't imagine how excited was I when John asked for my hand in matrimony. I barely knew him, but his reputation as one of the wealthiest industrialists preceded him. His father had survived the Great Depression, and by whatever means was able to buy farms and processing plants of less fortunate business owners. During the Second World War, their businesses grew as they supplied food for the war effort. Contrary to some other prominent families, the Chadwicks always kept a low profile. John was as the sole owner of a significant fortune after his parents died in a tragic plane crash in the late 40s. It was after this tragic event that a teenaged John became a markedly isolated and eccentric magnate, building a mansion not far from Chicago, which he seldom left.

I should have been surprised, but I was too excited. I always considered myself a normal mid west girl, on the verge of completing high school, and looking to find a secretary job at a nice office while waiting for my prince charming. I never expected that my "prince" would be John Chadwick. He was know as eccentric, but I didn't care. John arrived to our home in his flashy black limo and asked my father directly, and father agreed in no time at all. Father didn't consult me, but I would have agreed. Father worked as a supervisor in one of the Chadwick's corn processing plans, but the only time him or basically any of the other employees saw John Chadwick was during the traditional Christmas party. It was on one of those parties in which he first laid eyes on me.

I never learned the exact details of the conversation between John and my father, but I did learn that John offered my father an extremely generous cash buyout package from his job at the plant, with the condition that he should never pursue future paid work. On return he got my hand in marriage, with plenty of strings attached. I did learn of the conditions that directly applied to me. Or at least some of them. After high school graduation I would move to Chadwick House and start etiquette and deportment training by an etiquette teacher provided by John. During the training, which would take at least there months, I would have no contact with my fiancé or my family. Once properly trained to the satisfaction of my teacher, a date for the wedding would be set. While it seemed bizarre to me, a teenage girl during the early 50s generally didn't have much say regarding those matters.

During the days preceding my highschool graduation I visited Chadwicks House once,  in the company of my parents. That first time I was impressed by the sheer scale of the place. The property was surrounded by tall stone walls, with a wide driveway leading to a grand entrance of the mansion. The main building was a Victorian style building, there stories high and at least one hundred meters wide. Two wings  extended towards the back of the building, surrounding a beautifully kept Victorian style garden, complete with stone statutes, and wrought iron fences guarding rose gardens. Two parallel cobblestone paths led away from the house, and continued farther than I could see.

We had dinner in the elegant dinner room. The room was lit by crystal chandeliers, and the walls were covered in rich red fabric. The whole place was very opulent. Even though father had bought for me a new fancy dress, I couldn't but think I was underdressed for the occasion. We were served by several maids, all wearing Victorian style floor length dresses, in plain black wool with high necks, white caps and aprons. John was most interested in the protocol of the formality of dinner, but I could see that he couldn't take his eyes off me. It was like a fairy tale, frozen in time in Victorian times. I left with butterflies in my stomach.

The next time I saw John was at my graduation. He arrived just in time for the ceremony, causing quite a commotion. However, he left quickly after I received my diploma, leaving a note excusing himself, as he preferred not to overshadow the graduates on their big day. I was sad that he left, yet my classmates where jealous for all the attention I was getting from him.

Shortly after my graduation I left home for Chadwick House. I was sad for leaving home, I had never been away from my parents, but I was excited about my future. As per the directions from John's assistant I took only a small suitcase, since I was going to be getting a new wardrobe. I climbed onto the limo, and waved my parents goodbye, looking forward to seeing then again once the wedding came around. I enjoyed the ride in the limo, all while seeing the buildings pass by, and then the fields in the early morning sun.

When I got Chadwick House I was greeted by a maid dressed in the black servant's dress, and by a lady dressed in what seemed even more formal attire. Her outfit was black, but unlike the maid she was not wearing the white cap or apron. Instead of a dress, she seemed to be wearing a tight bodice reaching down to her hips and high up her neck with a tight collar, and a full length skirt dressing elegantly some her knees. She looked to be in her late thirties, and had her black hair pulled into a tight bun. She looked very elegant, but her dress seemed very heavy and hot for a summer day. I figured she was suffocating under that stuffy looking outfit.

By her posture and elegant demeanor I imagined she was going to be my teacher. Her waist was minute, and very well defined by her tight bodice. My own young waist was slender, but I instantly regretted not putting on one of my more severe girdles. I made a mental note of changing into the long boned girdle I had in my suitcase as soon as I had some privacy. Her stern looked flashed a slight smile as she courtesied to welcome me.

"Welcome to Chadwick House, miss Evelyn. I am mistress Barbara, and I've been hired by Mr. Chadwick to prepare you for your wedding. We have plenty to do, so the sooner we start the better."

She led me through the entry hall into one of the side wings, which I had not seen during my previous visit. The opulence of the entry hall faded onto utilitarian grey walls and simple fixtures, with very little decoration. After climbing two different stairs to the third floor I was led into a small bedroom, sparsely furnished with only a narrow bed and a simple table and chair. The small room had a small window looking out to the beautiful gardens.

"I apologize for the room, but it's the most convenient location as we start your training. In addition Mr. Chadwick has indicated that you should be kept away from his living quarters, as any contact before the wedding would be inappropriate. You can leave your things in your room, and please change into the hospital gown on your bed. We will begin with some routine tests."

I was led into the infirmary. It was a large room with an examination table in the center. Several other medical apparatus, most of which I had never seen were arranged around the room. The room felt chilly in the very revealing hospital gown I had been given. It seemed that the mansion had air conditioning, something very modern in such a Victorian looking place! I thought maybe that was the reason the servants were wearing such heavy and hot clothing. One of servants, wearing a face mask and a white doctor's gown helped me to the table and began examining me. Weight, height, blood pressure, a finger prick, the usual tests. She also took extensive measurements of my body. She tried to make me as comfortable as possible during the process. I later learned her name was Mary and she had studied to become a nurse. After this test, I was led to another room. This was a smaller room with a dentist chair, and most of the tools I was used to seeing in a dentist office. A man in a white doctor coat came in, and without so much as an introduction began examining my teeth. With Mary as his assistant, he proveeded to take molds of my teeth and then proceed to clean them throughout, which was a slightly unpleasant feeling, but I one had already experienced.

"We have some more work to do. I'm going to give you a little bit of gas to make you not comfortable."

He produced a plastic mask and held it to my mouth and nose. I started to feel drowsy, my arms and legs felt heavy until I could not move. He removed the mask and placed a clear thin tube around my face. Two prongs went into my nose.

"This will keep you calm."

He placed two plastics spreaders to keep my lips apart and started working. My head was flying, but I started to get worried as I saw a lot metal pieces going into my poor mouth. He was putting braces on my teeth! I couldn't move to protest, but after what I think was hours, the nameless dentist was done.

"We're done. You will feel a bit of pressure as the effects of the gas begin to fade, but it shouldn't be too bad." He unhooked the gas tube from my nose, and left the room. Mary stayed with me as I began to regain my mobility. Soon after, my mouth started to feel sore, and my teeth had a dull throbbing. I started to explore my mouth with my tongue. I could feel the metallic taste, the wires on the outside of my teeth, the brackets that held the wires together. Everything that my lips or tongue touched felt rough. I had never expected to be fitted with braces. I never knew I needed them, but I was sure father would never had been able to afford them. John was sparing no expense!

"Let me know when you feel better and can walk. Don't worry about trying to talk right now. You'll soon get used to having your braces. Dr. Garrett is a great dentist. When you're ready I'll take you back to your room."

Mary helped me back to my room. My legs were a bit wobbly, but my head was no longer cloudy. And my mouth hurt. On my room there was already a tray with my dinner. It looked like some kind of porridge. It was obvious I could not eat regular foods for a while. On the bed there was a long white nightgown.

"Very Victorian," I thought. I changed and got into the bed. I don't know what it was, but I was tired. It had been a very emotional and long day. I thought the throbbing in mouth would keep me from sleep, but I was soon in a restless sleep.

The next morning I was woken early morning by Mary. She gave a very light breakfast, consisting of some sort of applesauce. I was grateful since my teeth were still throbbing by the pressure of the braces. After I finished my breakfast, Mary had me change into a medical gown and ushered me to the infirmary to continue with the procedures John had deemed necessary. I tried to enquire further but Mary said she was in no position to elaborate, and she suggested that I stop asking questions.

When we arrived to the infirmary, mistress Barbara was there with three other servants. All were dressed in their usual severe woolen outfits, and this time even mistress Barbara had a white apron on. I was told to undress and lay on a metal table. The table was cold, but the water that they used to wash me down was even colder. They took a good time to scrub me down. Then they slipped me into a body suit, made out of a thin soft stretchy material. It reached from my neck to my ankles and wrists. I would later learn this was called a stockinette.

Barbara approached the side of the table and placed her hand in my in my forehead. Meanwhile the other assistants where moving some sort of metallic structures with dangling straps around the table.

"Mr. Chadwick has spared no expenses in getting you ready for your big day. You must feel fortunate. Some of these procedures might seem tiring, but they're the newest advances in science, used by the finest society ladies."

She squeezed my hand, and I tried to remain calm, but all the attention was unsettling.

In a matter of seconds Barbara and the three other assistants took hold of my extremities and strapped them to the metal framework.

They tightened straps around my ankles, knees, and wrists. There were solid bars between my wrists, my knees, and my ankles. The were also bars crossing from my wrists to my knees, and from my knees to my ankles.

"The next treatment you will be submitted to is called plaster therapy, and will help you get your figure in shape for your wedding. This is not an easy treatment, so you must be a brave girl. Things will go easier if you do not resist your treatment."

I tried to wiggle in my bonds, but they were snug. I was held with my hips and knees flexed at 90 degrees. My arms were held away from my trunk, and my elbows were also bent at 90 degrees.

"The plaster will help open up your pores and help your body rid itself of toxins. Your body will be held immobile for the duration of the treatment. This will soften your muscles and allow easier slimming of your figure." I could see the benefits of the treatment, but it still sounded scary.

As Barbara was explaining the procedure, the other assistants were busy. They were covering my extremities with some kind of soft padding. I tried to be brave but I could feel tears running down my cheeks. They inserted a short and thin backboard under me, which went from the small of my back all the way to support my head.

Once my whole body was covered in the padded gauze, I saw two large tubs being wheeled into the room. One of the assistants took charge, and mistress .Barbara stepped back.

"We're going to being applying your cast. To make sure the therapy is as beneficial as possible, we need you to remain as still as possible. The plaster will become quite hot as it's curing, nothing to be afraid of. We're going to begin with your arms and legs."

They began wrapping my arms in legs in wet plaster strips, layer by layer. I could feel the weight of the material, but my arms and feet were held immobile by the metal structure. Little by little I saw my skin disappear, replaced by the smooth white plaster. It only took a few minutes before the material began to harden. I tried to remain calm, but it was a scary feeling. I heard a mechanical sound and my body was raised a few inches above the table. I felt both the backboard in which my back and head were resting and the metal structure holding my extremities rise in unison. Then they started to tightly wrap more plaster strips around my chest and stomach. They wrapped the backboard inside of my cast, which forced my back against it and into a very straight position. They somehow shifted whatever was supporting my backboard, to be able to wrap it completely in plaster. The weight of the wet plaster made it feel like someone was sitting on top me. They left a large opening in my crotch, to allow basic bodily functions I imagined. Quickly they plastered my whole body, joining the individual casts on my extremities with the main cast around my trunk. They extended the stockinette up my hands and feet and proceeded to also wrap my hands and feet. Soon only my fingers and toes were free. They had even applied plaster strips over the cuffs that held my wrists and ankles. They also covered with plaster the solid bars that went between my wrists, knees, and ankles. Finally, they placed a strange metal piece over my stomach and wrapped it around my trunk with thick straps. Then they covered the whole apparatus with more plaster. It looked heavy, but given I was already many layers deep, I couldn't even feel it.

The heat inside the cast was increasing, and they turned on two large fans to help me keep cool. Barbara was by my side, and she would towel off the sweat from my brow.

"You're doing great, enduring this precedure is no easy feat." Barbara tried to comfort me.

I tried to look around, but the assistant who seemed to be in charge held my head to the backboard and tied it down with a broad band of the soft gauze. Several more plaster strips were then wrapped around my forehead and the backboard.

"Relax my dear, we need to keep your head stable throughout the procedure to keep you safe."

I tried to move but the plaster was already as solid as concrete. The permanency and overkill of my restraints made me uneasy. Soon everything was snow white, and I was trapped inside.

"Can you wiggle your toes? ... Great, now can wiggle your fingers?... Great" I did as instructed. There was very little else I could move.

The hustle died down and I was left lying on the table. They had put a diaper on me, and had left my plaster to dry.

The cast itself was not uncomfortable, but how long could I stand being immobile? I tested my plaster prison. There was no give. I was excited about being treated like a lady, despite the obvious inconveniences.

I don't know long it took, but Barbara came back to check on me.

"How do you feel my dear?"

"It feels tight, but not too much. And I'm really hot inside all of this." I said. Or at least I tried to mumble, my face full of unfamiliar metal.

"Do you feel any pain? Any undue pressure in any spot?"

"No, but the pressure in my chest and stomach is hard to get used to it."

"Try to remain calm and take short breaths. It will be easier that way. You have been very brave, and you haven't even asked any questions. That's shows that you're very obedient. I can see why Mr. Chadwick choose you..."

Then she proceeded to answer a question I had in my mind, but hadn't dared to ask... "I'm sure you must be wondering how long your procedure will take... We hope that your procedure will take around four weeks. After two weeks we will remove your cast and measure your progress. Then we will reapply the cast for two more weeks. This might seem too much, but Mr. Chadwick has requested that we take extraordinary measures to ensure you are ready for the wedding as soon possible."

"That's barbaric. I can't stay in this cast that long!" I started to cry.

"But you will, my dear. That's why we extended your cast all the way your hands and feet, to make sure you don't try anything funny. Don't worry, the cast is strong enough to make up for lack of willpower. Now try to relax. To ensure you're kept as comfortable as possible, we're going to place you in a special chamber where we can regulate the ambient temperature and humidity. I also want to prepare you, because the chamber has a special mechanism that will flip you."

I heard a mechanical sound, but I couldn't turn around to see what was happening, as my head was strongly held by my cast. After a brief pause I saw a metallic mechanism slide out of the chamber and engage the metal object that they had attached to my cast. Barbara locked the two pieces in place with big looking screws. The struts that had been supporting me on top of the table were lowered, so that I was left hanging by the strange mechanism.

Barbara double checked the framework holding me in place.

"As I was telling you before, the mechanism will flip you every so often to ensure we can relieve any pressure points, and prevent any sores. This is part of the reason why it's important to immobilize your whole body. Try not to fight it. You will feel less discomfort that way. The machine will rotate you at random intervals, but not too often, so that you can rest. "

The machine came back to life and with a jolt it started to retract into the cabinet. With my head firmly encased in the cast, it was hard to look around. But it was dark, and the cabinet seemed just barely big enough to fit my body in its almost fetal position. There was a low humm, like a fan.

"Now I want you to keep calm. You can try praying, some girl say it helps them get through this ordeal." Barbara said as she closed and locked the cabinet door. I was alone in the darkness, the low hum of a fan drowning my sobbing as I was held immobile inside my massive cast.

... Part 2

Commute

I loved riding the bus downtown to work. It gave me a chance to people watch. Plus it was great not having to deal with traffic.

There was a particularly pretty girl that I would see once or twice a week on the bus. She had platinum blond hair, fair complexion and deep blue eyes. She always wore a long white down coat. Dressed like this she stood out from the crowd, most people dressed in black or other dark colors that are popular during winter. Despite the thick down coat, I could see hints that she had an amazing figure underneath it all. I normally saw her during rush hour in the afternoons, when the bus was usually packed. One day I was lucky enough to find the seat next to hear empty. I took no time to grab it. She was dressed as usual, with the long white down coat, looking like an angel.

She was reading a book. When the bus hit a pothole, the book slipped from her hands and landed at my feet.

"I'm sorry, I'm so clumsy," she blushed, as she stumbled to try to pick it up. I then noticed her mittens.

"That coat looks interesting. You can't remove your mittens, can you? "

"No I can't. The mittens are part of the coat. Somewhat inconvenient I know, but my hands are always quite toasty!"

"Yeah, I could imagine. But why do you wear such a coat?"

"It's not my idea. Mother insists that I wear it when I out. She is over protective in general, maybe even a bit dominant, and this is one of the ways in which she manifests it. She insists that I dress warmly. 'Idle hands are the devil's plaything,' mother also says. So it's better if my hands are put away inside my mittens. She had this coat custom made for me, and she believes it's of great benefit for me to wear it every day." I was aghast as she was telling me this.

"Ok ... Please excuse if I'm being indiscreet, but why do you submit to her?"

"I tried to rebel while in high school. It was humiliating being dressed like this while everyone was dressed normally. But mother was always very dominating, so after a while I just started complying despite the discomfort..." she paused for an uncomfortable second... "Please excuse my manners, I'm telling you all this and I don't even know you..."

"No worries, it's a pleasure." I replied, meanwhile contemplating the details of her coat. It was long, reaching slightly below her knees. It was fitted around her waist, and it had a criss crossing quilting pattern throughout. The thick quilted mittens were attached to the coat, although it wasn't obvious at first sight since they were attached underneath the cuffs of the coat. The cuffs had zippers to prevent pulling the hands out of the mittens. Tracy had the coat zipped up all the way to up, with a little bit of fur showing at the top of the collar. The coat also had a big oversized fur trimmed hood.

"Well, then ... Hi, my name is Tracy!" she giggled.

"Nice to meet you."

"Well, my stop is coming up..."

"Could I ask you for you phone number..."

"I apologize, but mother wouldn't approve, since I barely got to know you. But I think I've seen you before on this bus..." Tracy said with a wink.

"Yes, I take it every morning to get to work."

"So do I, so I'll see you again." And with that, the angel in white left the bus.

Three days passed until I saw Tracy again. She was sitting down next to some other passenger, but when she saw me get on the bus, she moved over to an empty seat and signaled me over. She was hard to miss in that white coat.

"Hello, great to see you again," she said.

"Great to see you too."

After some idle for chat, I asked her out for coffee again

"Well, for that I would like you to introduce you to my mother ahead of time... If you don't mind..."

"Ok..."

"I apologise, I don't mean to impose..."

"No, it's ok... I understand. Although I imagine your mother is not easy to please."

"Well, you're right about that." She smiled with the sweetest smile ever.

"Well, how can I get on her good side?"

She laughed, "are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. Do you want to try me?"

"You'll probably laugh at this, but I'm sure she would be a lot more receptive about us hanging together if you showed up in coat similar to the one I'm wearing..."

"You mean with attached mittens?" I didn't laugh.

"Yes, like mother says  'Idle hands are the devil's plaything,' even more so with boys."

"But where would I get such a coat?"

"I can take you to the seamstress where mother has my coats made for me. I'm sure she can set you up with something similar."

"I imagine it wouldn't hurt to try..."

"I can take you there, maybe tomorrow after work? I get off with at five..."

"I... Well..."

"I'm sorry, I understand if it's too much..." She looked at me with big eyes.

"No...ummm... I'll see you there." I answered feeling butterflies in my stomach.

Tracy and I meet in a nondescript store on the old part of downtown. A simple store in an old art deco building. There no exhibits, but from the outside you could see plenty of fabrics and other sewing supplies. Three ladies were busy working sewing machines. It looked busy! The sign outside just read: "Quality custom apparel and alterations." I stepped inside the intriguing little shop. Tracy was already inside chatting with one of the seamstresses. Despite the fact that it was warm inside, Tracy was still wearing her coat! I have to admit that I was eager to find out what was  underneath that thick down coat.

An older lady approached me, "good afternoon, young man. My name is Astrid, and I'll be taking your measurements today." She was a mature women, with the demeanor of a caring grandma, but the efficiency and professionalism of an artisan. She was very thorough, yet it took less than 10 minutes to take all of my measurements.

"And do you want the locking zipper just like your coats?" I looked at the seamstress with a puzzled face.

"Yes, of course. I want all of the extras," Tracy answered and then looked at me. " Don't fret, it's just a zipper designed to only hold when at the very top. If you don't fully close your coat, the zipper will just slide down. Either you commit to wearing your jacket, or don't even bother." I was speechless. "I just want you to feel what I feel." She winked.

For someone who was told today by her mother what to wear, Tracy was seemed very domineering herself. I couldn't help but wonder how her mother was!

And what were all the extras?

"Here's your jacket." Calling this a jacket was quite the understatement. It looked like a grey sleeping bag with arms and a huge hood. What was I getting myself into? "Do you want me to help you put it on?" Astrid asked.

She started to carefully pull the coat up my arms. It was a snug fit, but not too tight. It was hard to tell from the outside how snug the coat was, since it was so bulky. It was strange to feel my hands not reach the end of the sleeves. Astrid closed the zippers of the outer cuffs, making the coat very snug at the wrist. My hands were now trapped in the attached mittens!

Astrid pulled up the main zipper and I could feel the snugness of the thick quilted collar around my neck. Once the zipper reached the top, a faint click signaled that the zipper had engaged. The coat reached down to my knees, longer than any coat or jacket I owned. Astrid pulled the thick hood up, and suddenly I felt trapped in the coat. I began to try to fumble the zipper, but between the limited vision from inside my thick hood, and the thick mittens, it was really hard to fumble with the zipper. Astrid put her hand on my shoulder and tried to calm me.

"Relax you'll get used to it. It's a very nice coat,  you'll be nice and hot all zipped up in it. This is what you wanted, right?" Thinking about it, Tracy had picked every detail, from the light grey color, the length of the coat (she had told Astrid to make it as long as possible while still looking masculine), she wanted at least ten pounds of down (which now I felt weighed a lot on my shoulders, and made the inside of the coat very snug). Looking in a mirror, I looked like the marshmallow man. The coat was very puffy!

I paid the balanced I owed (which was a pretty penny I have to say), and left. I was anxious for Tracy to see me wearing the coat.

I began wearing my new coat religiously every day on my way to and from work, hoping to see Tracy again. But she was nowhere to be found...

The days went by, and I kept using my new coat. It was warm and toasty, so I was grateful on the coldest days of winter. I began to get used to the attached mittens, although it really did limit me when I wore it. The truth is it was heavy, hot, stuffy, it was hard to put on, and it was hard to remove. It was also awkward that the zipper would only stay closed at the very top, so I always had to wear it fully closed. Bundled up, it did get a little bit too warm when I wore it on the bus, but the whole idea was for Tracy to see me wearing it and being subjected to something similar to the regime imposed on her by her mother.That was the whole point of getting this coat, wasn't it? Even if it was exhausting being bundled in such a thick warm coat.

A couple of weeks later, with still no sight of Tracy, I was riding the bus to work, bundled in my coat and vacantly staring out the window when a gorgeous brunette with curly hair sat next to me. Within a few seconds she turned towards me and asked:

"Interesting coat. You can't remove your mittens, can you? "

... The end?

So... do you read my blog? Subscribe!

Want to stay up to date when new material is posted? Want to encourage the author to write and post a bit more often? Then subscribe! It's easy and doesn't cost you anything. Little details like that help keep this going.

What's in store for the short term?

• One short story that's probably 90% ready and should be up in a week or so.
• A very large and ambitious story that will take place over quite a few chapters. This week be a slight departure from the material already here, but maybe some of you will enjoy some of the new elements I'll be introducing. I already have the first two, so I'll start putting then soon.

Fat Camp (part 5)

Olivia had to walk with her feet far apart to prevent tripping on her own massive snow boots. The tunnel vision created by her thick hood made walking even more complicated.

"You see, the hot box is such a delightful and secure device. We put at feisty camper inside, and we know she'll behave. We'll she has no alternative as you will soon find out," Ms. Gadai said as she and Azra guided me outside the sleeping quarters and to the three metal boxes standing in the middle of the courtyard. They had to guide me as I could barely see out the two tiny holes in mask area of my thick suit.

In the years te camp had been open, only one pupil had suffered a heatstroke while being disciplined inside the hot box. The staffer responsible for monitoring the pupil was place herself in the hot box to ensure all of the staff understood the severity of the situation. Ever since, all new staff got experience the hot box for didactic purposes during their induction to camp procedures.

Regular "refresher" stints for the staff ensured that hot boxes were utilized even when campers are not being disciplined.

But right now, hot box #2 was Olivia's personal hell.

From the outside, the three hot boxes looked identical, but we're in fact three different sizes, to ensure a snug fit if the girl being tormented inside, regardless of her weight loss progress. While crude looking, the boxes were surprisingly high tech. They had multiple sensors in the inside, measuring temperature, humidity, and CO2. Those sensors, coupled with a high efficiency HVAC system ensured that the atmosphere inside was uncomfortably hot, but not dangerous. Hidden infra red cameras were used to further monitor the subject. 

But how's the experience for the girl trapped inside?

The inside is bare, except for a small bench where the girl will sit (the ceiling is low enough that she can't stand up). The walls are lined in metal, and once the door is closed, there's no way to open it from the inside. The door is heavily insulated just like the walls. Once closed, the hot box is hermetically closed. Many girls panic in a fit of claustrophobia at this point, as they feel like they will suffocate, which they would if it wasn't for the HVAC system that is hidden under the bench. The sense of isolation is enhanced by the thick walls, two metal plates sandwiching six inches of isolation. The girls don't even hear the heavy padlock when it shuts closed. Other than the bench, the only discernible features, are four straps attached to the sides of the box. Two are around waist level and were used to secure the girls hands out of harms way. The other two straps were closer to the floor, and we used to secure the ankles. Thus secured, the girl had nothing to do but swelter inside her prison. Of course no girl was ever put into the hot box unless they were wearing the very demanding black fat suit. The thick down padding of the suit provided a level of protection for the girl. On top of this, each girl was outfitted with a soft foam helmet, to reduce the risk of a head injury. Needless to say wearing the helmet on top of the suit's full face hood was very uncomfortable, but the hot box was not a place of relaxation.

Some girls would would futily fight their restraints. Even if she somehow broke free of her restraints there was no way to open the door from inside. Some cried. Some girls had hallucinations. Some girls tried unsuccessfully to thrash around. But in the end the ordeal would cause all to lose their spirit and just quietly sit there, in the dark, with no notion of time. Sessions in the hot box rarely lasted more than three hours. However all girls claimed to have been trapped in the box for far longer. It goes without saying that it was the most efficient discipline tool at the camp.

How did Olivia fare inside the hot box? So far she has refused to talk about her experience inside the box. But needless to say it had the effect that Ms. Gadai expected.

The black fat suit became the staple of Olivia's daily atire. Even during the infrequent trips to town, her legs pressed firmly together by the long and thick coat or jalbad and all of the layers underneath, they were sure that Olivia wouldn't run away. It was hard, but Olivia had lost her will to rebel, just trying too keep herself out of the hot box again. Even breathing was a struggle through the small breathing holes. 

The long hot days went by, and Olivia's life turned into a whirlwind of trying to keep up with her routine while being constantly exhausted by the physical demands of the daily guided hikes and helping in the kitchen. All made more difficult sealed inside the black discipline fat suit.  If the blue suit was a portable sauna, the black suit was a portable furnace.

Olivia's wool undergarments were always soaking with sweat, and she was given copious amounts of liquids to prevent dehydration. In fact liquids (though a straw) were the only thing Olivia could consume through the small hole of the fat suit.

The monotonous routine was broken one morning after her daily morning weigh in, when Azra commented: "you have made good progress, you are on track in your weight loss!"

Olivia's eyes lit up: "does that mean I can wear the regular fat suit?"

"I'll show your numbers to Ms Gadai. But for today I have no option but to put you in your black suit."

Olivia's face sombered a little with disappointment, but there was still a tinge of pride for the progress she had made in her weight loss. She couldn't wait to wear her regular blue fat suit again.

Coming out of the international arrivals gate at Heathrow, Olivia looked like a new person, thin and standing tall. Smiling and radiant. 

She was wearing one of the lighter pink down jackets worn by staff and by the campers that are making good progress in their weight loss. It was warm in London, but Olivia felt secure in her pink down jacket, even if a bit sweaty.

"My dear, you look great!" Margaret exclaimed as soon as she saw her daughter.

"... Thanks Mom."

"But why are you still wearing that jacket? Aren't you hot?"

"Yes it's a little hot, but I have gotten used to it, it's somewhat comforting. And it's not just the jacket, I'm wearing matching down pants under this skirt."

"Well I can see how making you wear something like that will help you loose weight!"

"Ohh this is nothing, this is worn by the staff and by the girls that are well on track on their weight loss! The fat suit I had to wear was much thicker and warmer! Plus this one doesn't even have locks." Olivia's mom face showed her shock at her daughter's ordeal. "But it's ok, I eventually got used to wearing my down suit. Plus I figured if I keep wearing this one, it'll be easier when I go back in the fall, they actually offered me a job at the camp!"

The end.