As her sisters pulled and tugged and adjusted, Patty tried to think of more pleasant things – she daydreamed she was on a billowing white cloud, sliding within its folds, lace all around the edges. Well, she kept drifting in and out of this dream, as she was now and then abruptly brought to reality by the ever-increasing tightness in her waist, brought about by the constant tugging. Why do I have to put up with this pain? Oh! That I could just be in floating petticoats and soft pantaloons and pretty…! I HATE corsets!
But the fantasy could not persist in the ever-increasing grip of her stays.
“Oohh! Please!” Patty gasped – she was having a difficult time, as she fought to breathe.
“It’s all right, Patty – only one more inch!” she heard Francine say through the haze.
“But I can’t…breathe!”
“Do like we taught you last time – Breathe from your upper chest!”
“I…I want…to…please…”
The smelling salts did their job. Patty awoke in a haze. Looking up, she saw all the girls around her, looking at her with concern.
She was on Martha’s beautiful pink, lace adorned canopy bed – A dark blue cotton dress hung from the canopy – hers? Her layers of petticoats billowed up from her legs, and contrasted nicely with her now-tiny waist. Her stomach hurt a bit, but she was all right, breathing from her upper chest.
He smiled. Somehow, everything seemed good, despite her constricted waist.
“Hello, Patty,” said Delilah. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m all right, Sis. Can you help me up?”
The girls clamored about her, eager to help, bringing her to her feet. Patty held her stomach a bit, feeling the hard embrace of her stays. “How tight am I?”
“Well,” said Francine, “last time we had you at 22”, and this twenty will get you into this frock.”
“Whew! Twenty?”
“You look good, Patty,” said Martha. The girls all nodded in agreement. “I know some girls who would die for your figure.”
“I am NOT a girl!” But her protestation seemed lame.
Francine: “Are you ready for lunch? I mean, you don’t h