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?

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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.