It’s Just a Girdle.

Part One.  

Jean sat at her dressing table putting the finishing touches to her make up. She was thirty-six years old and married. Jack, her husband, was five years her senior. The bedroom door opened and Jack entered the bedroom carrying a tray with her breakfast on it.

‘Thank you. Just set it on the side table.’

He put the tray down and sat on the end of the bed. It was a small privilege that she allowed him on most mornings, a few minutes admiring her as she finished dressing. It was such a regular occurrence Jack had taken to putting his own cup of coffee on her tray. And now he sat causally looking at her as he sipped at his drink. He placed his cup on the bedroom floor, between his feet, and lit a cigarette. ‘I wish I knew how you managed to look so good this early in the morning?’ He saw her eyes shift their focus from her own face to him in the dressing table mirror. She smiled.

‘Oh, it isn’t so hard to do Jack. All you have to do is drink a little less scotch the night before, take a little exercise now and then, and watch what you eat.’

He drew in a lungful of tobacco smoke and shrugged. After ten years of marriage he knew exactly how much exercise his wife took, and what she ate. He looked at her hips and behind as she sat on her stool. Saw the tightly stretched shiny fabric of the rear panel on her long leg panty girdle straining at the heavy stitching that joined it to the spandex side panels. He also noted, not for the first time, how much the hook and eye fasteners on her long line bra were straining to hold her figure in shape. After ten years, he had almost as good a knowledge of her underwear as she had. Not that he’d ever have admitted it, especially to Jean.

She stood up, slid her hands down her sides savoring her curves. Her hands went first to her behind, then around to her tummy as she admired her reflection in the dressing table mirror.

Jack knew the form well enough by now, and Jean was making more of a show of her display than was usual. He took another draw on his smoke then said, ‘That’s quite an outfit.’

She turned to face him, hands on her well-defined waist, feet slightly apart. ‘It’s a new girdle. How do I look?’

“Great, you look just great.” He stood up and moved toward her.

“Oh Jack, not that, not now. I don’t have time for your games.” She turned her back to him and resumed feeling at her girdled behind and hips. Her weight shifted from foot to foot as she swayed her hips from side to side. ‘This girdle,’ she placed the palms of both her hands flat against her behind. ‘Is so comfortable. And really supports my figure. I love it.’

Jack watched her gyrating hips and her fingers as they felt and squeezed at her figure. ‘Yes, I can see you do.’

She stopped her fidgeting and snapped back to reality. Gave him a sneer then sat back at her dressing table. ‘Is this where you give me another of your lectures Jack?’ She turned on her seat and faced him, a sarcastic smile on her lips. ‘Shock horror! Woman wears girdle!’ Her voice was raised as she mimicked a news announcement. ‘Today, America was shocked to learn that a woman wore a girdle!’ She shook her head, laughed, and then turned back to look into her mirror. ‘Really Jack. If you could see how ridiculous this is. It’s 1964, every woman in America uses a girdle. I’d be the odd one out if I didn’t wear one. What is your problem?’

He shrugged. ‘Good grief Jean. You think I don’t know how popular those things are? I can’t open my newspaper without seeing an advert on every other page for them. Half of the commercial breaks on the T.V. are for the latest Playtex. It’s just that, well, there was a time when I used to look forward to your getting some new, you know, underwear. We used to have a little fun!’

Jean stood up, ran her hands down over girdle again and walked over to her wardrobe. ‘So that’s what this is all about.’ She started to flick through her dress hangers, selecting an outfit to wear. ‘Well, if you must know, I’m not that interested in that side of our marriage anymore. We’re not kids Jack, and as we get older our needs change. I just don’t need that sort of fun anymore. We have to move on, find other things to keep us happy.’

He watched as she searched through her outfits. She used one hand to flick at the hangers, while the other played over her girdle. Her fingers stroking at the satin and elastic. ‘You mean like you with your underwear?’

She spun on her heels to face him. ‘Oh my God!!! What is this thing you have about my wearing a girdle?’

He took another draw on his cigarette. ‘Jean, you don’t just wear a girdle. You live in one. I think you’re the one with a problem, not me.’

She gave a short laugh. ‘Jack, I wear a girdle. We just agreed that isn’t unusual. So how on earth can I have any kind of a problem?’

In contrast to her raised voice, Jack kept his at a normal level. ‘Okay, when was the last time you didn’t wear a girdle?’

Jean shrugged and moved back to her dressing table and sat down. ‘Well, last night of course. You think I wear one to bed?’

‘I wouldn’t know Jean. We have separate bedrooms. Which was your idea.’ He stooped down and picked up a high waist open girdle from off the floor. It was rumpled and half turned inside out from where it had been rolled off of her. ‘I think you wore this last night.’

Jean shook her head. ‘Sorry Sherlock. I wore that one yesterday.’

Jack shook his head. ‘No you didn’t. You wore a pant suit yesterday, at least you were when I got home. And you’d never wear this style of girdle with pants. And I’m guessing that the reason you wore the pant suit was because you bought that girdle, the panty style, and wanted to show it off.’

‘Okay, so if I did wear my new girdle yesterday, why didn’t I just leave it on last night?’

He shook his head. ‘Who knows? Maybe it’s a little too tight to wear all night? Maybe you just wanted to save it for today?’

‘Or maybe, just maybe, I used the open girdle in the morning, when I had a skirt on, and changed in the afternoon? Unlike you Jack, I change my underwear more that once a day.’

He nodded. ‘That’s possible of course.’ He reached around to the far side of the bed and picked a long leg, high waist Sears rubber panty girdle from off the floor. ‘Except, when I brought you your morning coffee yesterday, you had this on.’

Jean jumped up from off her stool. ‘Right! That is it Jack. I’ve had it with you and your damn fixation about my girdles.’ She was almost shouting, and he thought she looked a little ridiculous losing her temper dressed only in her bra and girdle. ‘So what if I did sleep with a girdle on? So what? Is that a crime now?’ She shook her head and ran both hands over her girdled behind. ‘I’m over thirty years old. My figure needs support. I need the support when I’m asleep or, or,’ she waved her hands in the air in frustration. ‘Or I get backache! There, is that okay? I need a girdle because I have a weak back. Any way, what the hell business is it of yours why I choose to wear a girdle? Or are you jealous Jack? Is that it? Would you like to try one on and see how it feels? How about that nice rubber one you have in your hands? You could probably squeeze into that one, it’s really stretchy, and feels great when it’s on.’

She was leaning over him now, sneering at him as her hands rested on her girdled behind. He looked up at her and smiled. ‘I’ll bet it does feel great. You use it often enough. How does it compare to the one you have on now?’

She slapped him, hard. Then turned away. ‘I think you should go to work now Jack.’ She was angry, partly because he was right, and partly because she realised that he knew. He knew that her girdles were more than just underwear to her. He knew how much she needed them. She heard him leave the room and she looked at her reflection in her mirror. She reached for the side zip of her girdle and started to pull it open, then changed her mind, pulled it back up and shuddered as she slid her hands over its shiny rear panel.

‘Jack, it’s perfectly normal.’ David lifted his martini, held it for a moment in salute then drained half the drink down his throat. ‘Look,’ he placed his depleted drink back on the table. ‘I see a lot of women.’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, a LOT of women, with the same sort of problem.’ He looked at his drink, lifted it to his mouth and emptied the glass. He winced and placed the empty glass down. ‘Have you any idea,’ he leaned closer to Jack and lowered his voice. ‘I mean, any idea at all what the average woman is wearing today?’ Jack didn’t have a chance to answer before David continued. ‘I see it all Jack. Everything.’ He leaned even closer to Jack. ‘Girdles, corsets, you name it, I see it.’ He lifted both hands up to his chest. ‘Padding? I see more foam rubber than a mattress factory. Trust me on this Jack, Jean is just like every other woman. They love it’. He motioned to a waitress to come across to their table and ordered two more drinks.

Jack half nodded. This wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear from his doctor. ‘Okay, so perhaps she isn’t that different. But, well, I think she prefers her, well her underwear, to me. If you see what I mean?’

David nodded and took his fresh drink from the waitress. ‘Ah, well Jack, the problem is, Jean may have moved on.’

Jack watched as his doctor took another drink. ‘What do you mean, “moved on”? Moved on from what?’

‘Lots of women have a fixation, with their underwear. Why do you think they buy so much of the stuff? I mean, with guys you just put on a pair of shorts and that’s it, end of story. But women, trust me on this. With women, it can become a way of life.

Jack shook his head. ‘I still don’t understand?’

‘Okay, look at it like this. You know what it’s like when you run out of cigarettes?’

Jack shrugged. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Suddenly, they become just about the most important things in the world. That’s the way it can get for a woman and her underwear.’ David glanced around to see no one was listening. ‘If what you’ve told me is true, I think Jean may have fetish. A fetish for her underwear.’ He looked hard at Jack, then shrugged. ‘It happens. Look Jack, you’ve seen the sort of thing Jean wears, and so have I. It’s a hell of a turn on just to look at. Imagine what it does to a woman who wears it all day?’ David motioned with his glass toward a man and woman standing at the bar. ‘There, there’s an example of what I’m talking about.’ Jack looked across and sure enough the woman, wearing a skirt and jacket, was just in the act of running her hand up her thigh and over her behind. She repeated the movement before accepting a cigarette from the man in front of her. ‘See what I mean?’

Jack shook his head. ‘I think you’re wrong. Sure, the stuff they wear looks great on them and they know what it does to a guy, But we’re talking about women, they’re different.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong Jack. Tactile stimulation. If something feels good to the touch to you, the odds are it’s the same for a woman. They’re spending half their lives being shaped, moulded and turned on by rubber and elastic girdles. Most of them would rather be shot than spend a day without their girdles on. They practically live in them Jack, and thanks to advertising and the fact that most of them do it, we think that’s perfectly normal. It isn’t.’ He saw that Jack wasn’t convinced. ‘Okay Jack, imagine you’re at the gym.’

Jack shrugged. ‘I don’t go to the gym.’

‘Dammit Jack, I’m just trying to make a point. Right, imagine you use the gym, and you’re there getting changed. The guy next to you drops his pants and he’s wearing a pair of shorts made of rubber, a girdle in fact. Like you see on the T.V. advert with the girl.’

‘Yeah, I’ve seen the advert, Playtex.’

David nodded. ‘Exactly. Anyway, this guy next to you at the gym, he’s wearing one of those, a Playtex. You’d think he was a little strange wouldn’t you?’

‘No, I’d think he was a fruit and I’d be very careful when I used the shower not to drop my soap.’

David grinned. ‘Okay, but you get my point. Wearing a rubber girdle isn’t normal.’

‘Not for a guy, no.’

‘But it’s okay for a woman?’

Jack sighed. ‘Look, you’ve made your point. Women wear girdles, it’s what they do. And yes, I’m sure that you’re right and they get a thrill out of using them, I know Jean does. How does that help me?’

David thought for a moment. ‘Well, it doesn’t help you. I just wanted to make sure you understood the problem.’

Jack smiled and took a sip of his drink, wondering how many David had had before he’d arrived. ‘Well, to tell you the truth, I like her wearing those things. I think she looks great in them.’

‘Of course you do. That’s my point. You think she looks great, and she thinks she looks great, everyone’s happy. The problem is, one day she decides she’d rather have her underwear than have you. Then it’s a problem. Has it got to that yet?’

Jack shrugged.

‘I thought so. Send her round for a check-up, I’ll refer her to a good analyst. I know just the man. Deals with over excited women all the time.’ He lit a cigarette and watched as the smoke lifted to the ceiling. ‘Either that, or I just put her on tranquillisers. Calm her down a bit, so her underwear doesn’t have quite the same effect anymore. Then you can step in and reclaim the ol’ marital rights. That works. I bet half the women in this town are on those things for the same reason Jean has. Jack, if they made girdles and padded brassieres illegal tomorrow, half the women in the western world would have a nervous breakdown. That’s a fact.’ He drained his glass and smiled.

Jack looked into his glass. David had been their doctor for over ten years, and a friend for nearly as long. But now Jack was seriously considered changing the family doctor.  

 

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Jean was having a strenuous day as well. After Jack had left for work, still unable to decide on an outfit to wear, she’d put on a black see-through negligee that did little do hide her underwear from view. Not that there was anyone liable to see her, but lately she’d taken to dressing like this more and more when she was alone in the house. It seemed a waste of time to her to go to all the bother of putting on an outfit for no reason. Also, although she would never admit it to anyone, she got a thrill out of it. She poured herself a fresh martini and sat down on the huge sofa. The bones in the waist of her girdle and her long line bra meant that unless she sat practically bolt upright, this position wasn’t that comfortable. She swung her legs up onto seat and lay back, holding her martini glass and resting it on her mid-riff. She’d do herself some lunch shortly, as soon as she’d shut her eyes for a few moments. It had, after all, been a busy morning.

She was snoring softly as Jack entered the room.  He poured himself a scotch and looked at his wife lying on the sofa, walked across to her and gently took the glass from her limp hand and placed it on the coffee table. He looked down at her and frowned. How the hell could she wear that stuff the way she did, and for the time she did? And why was she wearing it now? She’d been alone all morning, who on earth was going to see her? Maybe David was onto something, perhaps Jean did have a problem? Well, if it was a problem, it was one that she’d had for an awful long time, in fact, he couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t worn a girdle. She’d long ago explained to him that to keep her figure in shape she had to keep herself girdled. Too long out of a girdle and her figure would sag. At least, that was what she’d said. Of course, he’d known at the time that wasn’t true. The fact was, as soon as she peeled her girdle off her figure lost its shape. Only a month ago, while on vacation, he’d gone into her bedroom in the beach house as she’d been struggling to pull on her bathing costume. The sight of her bent forward, straining to get the over stretched costume up her thighs had been a minor revelation to him. It had been years since he’d seen her naked. Jean always had underwear on. He’d stood open mouthed as his wife had straightened up, covered her small breasts with her hands and screamed at him to get out. No, that wasn’t true. He remembered now, she’d yelled at him, ‘Don’t look. Don’t look at me! Get out.’

No, he wasn’t going to forget that day in a hurry. It was a snapshot in his mind, clear as a photograph. Her normally girdled and padded figure had been revealed to him in its natural state. Her large bust tapering down to a well defined waistline, the slight curve of her tummy, smooth hips and shapely behind were, he saw, all created by her figure shaping bra and girdle. Which at that moment were laid out on her bed, along with the pair of large foam rubber cones that she used to fill out her bra cups. That image of her straight upper body, lack of a waistline, bulging tummy, flabby hips and wide, sagging behind came back to him as he watched her sleeping on the couch. After that incident he could easily understand her reluctance to be seen without her underwear on. The strange thing was, how proud she was of her figure. There had been many times when he’d heard her comment to her friends, other women, how hard it was for her to keep in shape by dieting and exercise. But then, her friends were probably just as dependent on their girdles as she was, at least for their figures. And that side of it didn’t bother him in the least. In fact, he had always found her constant use of a girdle a turn on, it was one of the things he’d liked about her when they’d met. She’d teased him about it while they were dating, taking great pleasure out of letting him catch glimpses of her girdles as she adjusted her garter clips. Or the way she’d smile knowingly as he felt at her girdled behind through her dress while they kissed goodnight. Yes, back then they’d both got a thrill out of her wearing girdles. But lately, well, it seemed to him that she was still enjoying the experience, more than ever in fact. But now she didn’t need him.

Jean fidgeted on the couch, moaned softly and rolled onto her side, her back toward him, her left hand rested on her hip. And as he watched, it slid over her girdle until her fingers were stroking at the tightly stretched satin elastic panel that covered her behind. Her legs began to move as she started to squirm, the movement of her hand becoming more urgent as her fingers felt at her girdle. She moaned again, twisted herself onto her back again, then as he watched bemused, she used both her hands to stroke at her girdle covered hips. She was writhing on the couch now, her hands sliding frantically over her underwear.

Jack walked across to the door, opened it, then slammed it shut. Jean jerked awake, looked around with blinking, startled eyes. ‘Oh, it’s you Jack. What time is it?’

‘A little after five. Are you feeling okay?’

Jean swung her legs off the couch and sat shaking her head. ‘God, I feel awful. My head!’ She went to stand up, swayed, then fell back onto the couch.

‘Why don’t you go and lie down for an hour? I’ll call Sam and tell him we can’t make dinner.’

Jean shook her head and managed to get to her feet. ’Is that tonight? What time?’

‘Seven. But I’ll make an excuse. There’ll be plenty of other people there, they won’t mind us not turning up.’

‘No, I’ll be fine. I’ll shower and start to get ready. If you’re hungry, fix yourself something. There’s plenty in the freezer.’

Jack shook his head. ‘No need. There’ll be plenty to eat at the party. If you’re sure you’re up to going that is?’

‘I told you I’ll be fine.’ She walked unsteadily toward the door. ‘You might mix up a couple of drinks and bring one up to me. I hate arriving at a party stone cold sober.’

Jack watched as she left the room, her hands, as usual, stroking at her girdled hips. Then he went over to the bar and found the vodka bottle.

Jean pulled on her toweling bathrobe and knotted the belt. Her bra and panty girdle lay on the floor, the large white foam rubber cones of her false breasts were on the dressing table, hidden from view behind the wig stand. She’d actually been relieved to get out of the underwear. The new girdle was a little too tight and her stomach had felt as though it would burst through the girdle’s nylon front panel. She patted at the now prominent bulge of her tummy and sighed. She’d put on weight recently, and if she didn’t lose it, she realised she’d have to start using a larger sized girdle. And that would mean most of her clothes wouldn’t fit. But worse, it would mean her collection of controlling underwear would be useless. She made up her mind to lose a few pounds. No need to diet, just watch what she ate and cut down on the booze. She was proud of her figure, and boasted of still having a twenty-six inch waist. Well, it was twenty-eight really, and then only with the right girdle on. The last time she’d measured herself without a girdle it was closer to thirty-two. But then, what was the point of that? She always wore a girdle. She pulled on a floral, plastic shower cap and went across the hall to the bathroom.

Jack had mixed a batch of martinis and drank one at a gulp. He sat sipping another and smoking a cigarette. The sight of his wife having an erotic dream in which her underwear played a role wouldn’t leave him. Was that why she no longer had any time for him? If she were getting that worked up maybe tranquillizers would make a difference? But would she take them? Perhaps he could give them to her without her knowing? But the idea of secretly drugging his wife didn’t seem right. He’d have to get her to talk to David. Perhaps she’d take the doctor’s advice. He heard the shower go off and checked his watch. He’d give her five minutes to put something on before taking her drink up. He didn’t want to repeat the incident at the beach house and walk in on her while she was undressed. He took another gulp at his drink. It was coming to something when a guy couldn’t see his own wife unless she was wearing her underwear.

Jean entered her bedroom smiling to herself. She felt refreshed after the shower, and had worked out what to wear. She’d decided on her black strapless sheath dress. It was short enough to show of her legs, finishing a couple of inches above her knees, with the right foundations on, it would also show off her figure. She opened the top drawer of the dressing table and sorted through the underwear until she found the Glamorise strapless long line bra and Sarong high waist open bottom girdle. Together they would give her the look she wanted. As she pulled the girdle up she felt the familiar thrill as the spandex, nylon and satin elastic slid up her body. Her fingers still trembled slightly with excitement as they fastened the girdle’s side hooks and slid closed the zipper. Then the surge of pleasure as her hands passed repeatedly over her girdled hips and behind, savouring the feel of the tightly stretched garment as it strained to mould her figure. She looked at the bulge of flesh rolling over the top of the girdle and picked up the brassiere. She wrapped it around her chest and awkwardly slid her hands behind her back to fasten it. Her fingers strained to grip the two sides of the bra while she struggled to hook them together. Her grip slipped and the bra flopped away from her body. Twice more she tried to fasten the hooks, then almost crying with frustration she opened the bedroom door and called. ‘Jack! Come up here. I need your help.’ She went back and stood in front of her mirror, both hands holding the unfastened bra up to her chest.

Jack came into the room carrying their drinks. ‘What is it? What’s wrong now?’

‘It’s this, my long line. I can’t grip it to fasten the hooks. You do it.’

Jack looked at her figure, the black girdle covering her from above her waist to mid thigh. Where the girdle finished, above her waist, an ugly roll of white flesh bulged over the top and hanging loose at her back the two sides of her open bra. He put their drinks down and went across to her. ‘Maybe it’s just too small?’

‘It isn’t too small Jack! I’ve worn this bra a dozen times. Just fasten it will you?’

He shrugged and took a grip on the sides of the bra. ‘Okay, pull it in.’ He pulled the two wings together and managed to clip the bottom hook into its eye. ‘I think it’s too small.’

She wriggled from side to side. ‘It isn’t too small. Just finish hooking me in will you?’

He managed to fasten all the hooks but only on the outermost set of eyes. And now he noticed that there were rolls of flesh bulging over the top of the bra at her back, below the shoulder blades.

Jean let out a low gasp as she felt at her figure. ‘That is tighter than I remember. She put her hands onto her tightly gripped waist. The combined pull of the girdle’s waist and the cuff of her long line bra had really narrowed her down. Unfortunately, below her waist, her stomach now had a noticeable curve, not exactly a bulge, but not as flat as she was used to. She peered down at the front of her girdle, put the flat of her hand against it and tried to flatten it. ‘What’s happened? Look, my tummy is bulging. My girdle’s supposed to hold that in.’

Jack picked up his drink. ‘It is holding you in. It’s just that your waist is being squashed so much it makes your hips and tummy look a little fuller that’s all.’

She was standing sideways on to her mirror, staring at her reflection as she pressed her hands against her stomach and behind. ‘Oh yeah, and since when did you become an authority on women’s underwear? Thank you for helping me with that, now if you don’t mind, I have to finish dressing.’

He nodded and moved toward the door. ‘Your figure looks great. Just a little more curvy that normal that’s all.’

Once he’d gone, Jean fitted her padding into the already stiffly shaped contour cups of her bra. Then sat down and rolled her dark nylons on. Not an easy job as her tight bra and girdle made bending uncomfortable. When they were clipped to her garters she stood up and again checked out her reflection in the mirror. It took her another half an hour to freshen her make up and put on her wig. No half head hair piece tonight. She had a new full head of dark wavy hair that reached to her shoulder blades, bought only last week, and this was just the night to premier it as her new look for the Autumn. She was forced to call for Jack’s help once more, this time to fasten the long rear zipper of her dress. By the time she called for him, Jack had showered and changed into his evening suit. As he stood behind her, easing the zipper closed, he looked over her shoulder and spoke to her reflection in the mirror. ‘You look fantastic Jean.’ ‘She smiled and almost purred with satisfaction. ‘Thank you. I think so to.’ He fastened the safety hook at the top of the dress’s zip. ‘I like what you’ve done with your hair. How did you manage it so quickly?’

She pulled away and turned to face him, smiling as her hands slid up and down her figure. ‘Ah, now that would be telling.’ She picked up her wrap, it matched the dress, draped it over her shoulders and moved toward the door. ‘Well, shall we go?’

Part Three.

 Jack was suffering almost as much as his wife Jean. The twenty-mile drive home was only a quarter complete and already he was fed up with his wife’s complaining.

‘It’s okay for you Jack, you’re not the one being cut in two by their girdle.’ Jack nodded unseen in the dark interior of the car. ‘That’s very true. I’m not being cut in two by a girdle.’ She writhed on the car’s front bench seat trying to straighten herself out, her hands rubbing at the now quite swollen mound of her stomach. ‘It isn’t funny! Do something!’

He checked the rear view mirror, slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road. ‘Get into the back of the car.’ She went to speak but he leaned across in front of her and opened the car’s passenger door. ‘Just get into the back of the fucking car Jean. I’ve not had the best of times myself, and I’m a little pissed off. I don’t need to hear you moaning about your damn girdle for the rest of the drive home.’ He pushed her along the seat. ‘Now get into the back of the car or walk home.’

She staggered from the car, still clutching her girdled stomach. Jack opened the rear door and pushed her roughly into the car, leaving her lying on the rear seat. He stooped down, leant into the car, took a hold of the back of her dress and ripped it open. ‘I’m not in the mood to play with zips. Now, take off your girdle.’

She rolled onto her back and looked up at him from where she lay on the car seat. ‘Have you gone mad Jack? What the hell are you playing at?’

‘I’m not playing. Now, I’ve already said that I’m not using zips tonight. Either you take your girdle off, or I rip it off. What’s it to be?’

‘Okay, just calm down.’ She sat up slightly, using her hands to hold herself up. ‘Jesus Jack, what’s got into you?’

He shook his head and spat into night. ‘I am sick and tired of hearing you whine about your underwear. The constant complaining about this girdle being to tight, or that girdle being too short, or the other girdle not supporting you enough. Take off your girdle Jean.’

A car cruised past them, slowing slightly before it accelerated into the night. Jean let out a short laugh. ‘Have you gone mad? I’m not taking off my girdle. Now just drive us home.’

‘I thought you were complaining that it was too tight? Take it off.’

She laughed nervously. ‘It is tight, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take it off. It’s not as though I can change into another one, not out here. I’ll change when I get home.’

He stood at the door for a moment, thinking. Then reached down, lifted her nylon covered legs inside the car and slammed the door closed. Without saying a word her went around the car and got behind the steering wheel, slid the gear selector into Drive and floored the accelerator.

‘What the hell was that all about?’ Jean stood in the lounge, the car rug that she had used to cover herself as she’d walked from the car to the house, still wrapped around her body.

‘Jean, you’ll be doing both of us a favour if you’ll just go to bed.’

She watched as he poured himself a large measure Irish whiskey. ‘I suppose you’re going to sit down here and get drunk?’ He grinned and swallowed half the glass’s contents at a gulp. ‘Good guess. I’ll stay down here, while you go to your room and climb into another girdle. We all get our little thrills in different ways don’t we?’

She stepped forward and raised her hand to slap him. He shook his head. ‘Not tonight Jean. You’ve had your free hit for today remember?’

She stopped dead, something in his eyes told her he wasn’t to be messed with. Jean let the car rug fall to the floor and stroked at her girdled hips. ‘Okay. Maybe you’re right. I’m going to my room.’  She turned and walked toward the door, one hand still feeling at her girdle. Jack shook his head and called to her, ‘Good night. And er, sleep tight.’

She didn’t turn, just faltered in her step before taking her hand from her underwear and walking off to her room.

As she closed the bedroom door behind her she let out a long sigh and kicked off her shoes. Then, she struggled to unfasten the hooks on her long line bra, once it was open she dropped it and the rubber pads in contained onto the bed. She caught sight of her reflection in the dressing table mirror, saw her flat chest and the bulging flesh above the high waist of her girdle. Quickly she opened a drawer and found a short, padded contour cup bra. When it was clipped on she fitted the still warm falsies into its cups, then with her bust-line restored she unzipped and unhooked her girdle. She gasped with relief as her stomach swelled out to its natural size. With the girdle open she could comfortably sit down and remove her nylons. Lifting herself slightly off the dressing table stool she rolled her girdle down her legs and stepped out of it. As she pulled the girdle out straight she held it up and gazed longingly at its shape. Then she looked down at herself. From just below her short bra her body now just seemed to get wider. Her waistline was gone and her mid-riff was now two rolls of white flesh that seemed to rest on the prominent mound of her stomach. She stood up and attempted to hold herself in, but her stomach muscles hadn’t been used for over twenty years and nothing happened. With the girdle removed she felt awkward and ungainly. Pulling open another drawer she sorted through its contents until she found a Playtex long leg panty girdle. It had long been her answer to the stresses of a busy day. Wearing any girdle made her feel good, but a Playtex was something special. She quickly pulled it on and fastened its off centre front zip. Although not as firm as the girdle she’d just removed, the Playtex did restore her figure to something close to what she wanted. And not having any bones it was a lot more comfortable to wear. Her hands slid over the girdle savouring the feel of the smooth tightly stretched latex. She shuddered and felt the tension of the last couple of hours melt away, replaced by a feeling of intense pleasure as she massaged her hips and behind. Her hands were trembling as she walked across the room and switched off the light. By the time she climbed into bed she was almost shaking with delight.  

 

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‘David, any chance of us having lunch?’ Jack hadn’t paid his customary morning visit to Jean’s room that morning. He’d woke up late, showered and gone straight into the office. Now, at ten thirty he’d finally decided to call the doctor. ‘I’m a bit tied up today Jack. What’s up?’ Jack hesitated before answering. ‘What we were discussing yesterday, that problem Jean might have?’ He heard David let out a sigh into the phone. ‘Yes, of course. What about it?’

‘You said you might be able to do something? I think you said something about some pills she could take?’ David chuckled. ‘That’s right. I could prescribe something that should help put her back on an even keel. Would you like me to do that.’

Jack paused again. ‘I suppose she has to know what it is she’s taking?’ There was a laugh from David’s end of the line. ‘Oh yes, she has to know. I’d like to keep my licence Jack. What I can do, is convince her that she needs to take them.’

‘You can do that?’

‘I can try Jack. I can’t guarantee she’ll listen, but I can try. Tell you what, I’ll have my receptionist ring her and see if I can get Jean in here today. How’s that?’

‘Do you think it’ll work?’

 

‘I told you, this isn’t a rare problem. I’ve dealt with plenty of women in exactly this situation. Mind you, you’re going to owe me big time for this.’

 

Jack exhaled slowly into the phone. ‘This is driving me nuts. If you can straighten Jean out, you can name your own damn reward. Give me a call later will you, let me know how it goes?’

‘I’ll tell you what I can, but don’t forget doctor patient confidentiality. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve seen her. And don’t worry.’

Jack stared at the now silent phone and shook his head. When all this crap was behind them, he was going to get another doctor. He didn’t mind having a doctor that subscribed to Playboy magazine, but having one that contributed a regular column to the magazine was another matter.

Jean had been pleasantly surprised by David’s phone call, and no, she hadn’t realised that it was over a year since her last check up.

‘Jean! Come on in.’ David stood up and came around his desk to greet her. ‘Do you realise we haven’t met since the New Year party?’ Jean smiled and gave him a light kiss on his cheek as he took her hand. ‘Have a chair. You look great Jean. Remind me to tell Jack what a lucky man he is.’

She laughed, pleased and flattered by his compliment. But then she had made a special effort to look good. The skirt of her red suit was close fitting and showed off her trim tummy and behind. The contour cups of her long line bra filled out her blouse and jacket. Her make up was flawless, and the lustrous mane of her wig reached down her back.

‘So, as your doctor I suppose I should ask how you’re feeling?’ He leaned forward in his chair and lit her cigarette for her. ‘Any problems?’

She smiled and shook her head. ‘I’m fine. A little curious as to why you wanted to see me, but that apart, I’m fine.’

David grinned and opened his hands toward her. ‘I just like to keep an eye on my patients that’s all. And a thorough check up once a year helps me keep on top of things.’ He pressed the intercom button on the desk. ‘Martha, can you step in here please?’ He smiled at Jean again and shrugged. ‘Regulations. Martha has to be present when I examine a female patient.’ As the office door opened and Martha came in David waved a hand toward a screened off section of the room behind his examination couch. ‘Okay Jean, just go behind the screen and remove your clothes. There’s a gown on the hanger you can use.’ He opened her medical file on the desk and started to read.

A little reluctantly Jean got up and went behind the screen. There was a short clothes rail with four hangers on it, and a two foot square white topped table. She removed her short jacket, hung it up and took off her blouse and skirt. When they were on hangers she picked up the gown and went to slide her arms into it, she smiled to herself and put the gown back on its hanger. Then, wearing only her underwear and high heels she stepped out from behind the screen. ‘It seemed a waste of time putting the gown on.’ She slid her hands down herself from her waist to her thighs. ‘Unless I really have to.’

David looked up from reading her notes and smiled. ‘If you’re comfortable without it, by all means leave it off.’ He felt his throat go dry as he stared at her. She looked like something out of an erotic magazine. She had a matching salmon pink long line bra and long leg panty girdle on. Her bra had two large satin covered cups that completely covered her breasts, and her girdle had panels of satin that shimmered as it stretched. He realised he was staring and looked instead at Martha who was standing behind Jean just inside the door. He saw that Martha too was staring at Jean, only in a different way. The older woman knew exactly what Jean was wearing, even down to what style bra and girdle they were. She also knew how much difference they could make to a woman’s figure. She looked at the doctor, glanced up to the ceiling and shrugged.

Jean walked slowly across to the desk, slid her hands over the down-stretch satin elastic seat panel of her girdle and sat down on the chair opposite David. She crossed one nylon-covered leg over the other, sat back, and glanced down at the two satin covered large hemispheres of her bra cups. ‘Well, where would you like to start?’

David seemed a little lost for words, and what man wouldn’t have been? Martha on the other hand, both by nature of her sex, and the fact that in her twenty two years as a nurse she’d seen all this before, cleared her throat and walked over to the side of the desk where she faced Jean. ‘Actually Mrs. Hammond, this is where I take over.’ Jean looked across to David who nodded. ‘That’s right. Martha will actually do the check-up if that’s okay with you? To be honest Jean, I know you so well, I think that I’d feel uncomfortable if I were present. So I’ll go and make a few phone calls.’ He stood up, took another long look at Jean’s figure then left the room.

Martha went and stood beside the wall mounted height gauge. ‘Okay Mrs. Hammond, we’ll check your height and weight first. If you’d slip off your heels and stand back against the wall under the gauge.’ Jean walked across to the wall, looking a little shorter now her shoes were off. Martha slid the gauge down the rod until it pushed against the top of Jean’s head and read off the measurement. ‘Five feet two inches. Now onto the scales.’ As Martha lifted the rod of the height gauge up from Jean’s head she purposefully caught a few hairs between her fingers. Jean felt her wig lifting from her head and squealed. ‘My hair!’ The pins that clipped the wig to her own hair prevented the wig from actually coming off. But it did lift a half inch or so before Martha released her grip and let the wig fall back down, slightly off centre, onto Jean’s head. Jean blushed as she re-set the wig and adjusted the pins.

‘I’m sorry Mrs. Hammond. I had no idea.’

Jean checked her reflection in the mirror above the hand basin. ‘That’s the reason I wear an expensive hairpiece. So that people have no idea I’m wearing it.’ Satisfied that her hair looked okay, she stepped onto the scales. Martha slid the balance weight along the chrome bar until the bar sat level. ‘Let’s see, that’s a hundred and forty two pounds. We’ll take off two pounds to allow for your bra and girdle and call it a hundred and forty even.’  Martha led Jean off the scales and took a stethoscope from her tunic pocket. She turned Jean around so she was looking at her back and placed the business end of the stethoscope between Jean’s shoulder blades. Noting as she did the roll of bulging flesh over the top of the bra. ‘Breathe in, now out. And again.’ She turned Jean around so they were facing each other. She placed the stethoscope against the vee of naked flesh between the bra cups and listened. She moved it slightly up Jean’s chest and listened again. Then she took a hold of the bra’s shoulder straps and slid them over Jean’s shoulders. Jean quickly clutched at her bra cups, holding them to her chest. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’m trying to carry out a check-up on you Mrs. Hammond, as the doctor asked me to. Why on earth do you think I’m doing it instead of him? Why did you think you were asked to undress? Now, may I continue?’

Jean let her hands fall to her sides. ‘Yes you’re right. I’m sorry.’

‘Thank you.’ Martha pulled the stiff, shaped bra cups down and away from Jean’s chest as far as the long line bra would allow. Jean stared down as the large satin cups were lifted away from her body exposing her small breasts. Martha’s face was impassive, but her fingers pushed into the thick foam rubber falsies that filled the bra cups. ‘I’m sorry about this Mrs. Hammond. I know how distressing this must be for you, and I’ll be as quick as I can. But now you can see one of the reasons why it’s better that I examine you.’  Jean lifted her gaze and looked at the nurse’s face. Martha stared back at her, her face still showing no reaction to what she’d seen. She pulled the cups even further away and with her other hand she moved the stethoscope over Jean’s exposed chest. Jean’s eyes were fixed on her own small breasts and the two inch gap between them and the padded cups that normally both enhanced them and hid them from view. The nurse slowly eased the cups back against Jean’s chest. As the foam padding touched her skin Jean almost collapsed with relief. ‘Well, no surprises there Mrs. Hammond. ’ Martha stood and watched as Jean pulled her bra cups back up and settled its straps back onto her shoulders.

‘Okay Mrs. Hammond, we’re almost finished. Just a couple of things.’

Jean nodded as she adjusted her bra cups, settling them against her chest. ‘Good.’

‘If you’ll sit down, I’ll take your blood pressure.’ Jean sat at the desk and Martha wrapped the pressure pad around her arm. Martha looked down at Jean’s girdle. ‘Your girdle.’

Jean looked up. ‘My girdle? What about it?’

‘Do you always wear that style, a panty?’

Jean slid her hands over the girdle and shrugged. ‘Not always no. But I prefer them to a regular girdle. Why?’

Martha pumped up the pressure pad and took reading off the gauge. ‘They’re not very healthy. There are a lot of instances of women getting problems because of them. Is yours comfortable?’

‘Yes, it’s very comfortable.’ She ran her hands over the girdle again. ‘What sort of problems?’

‘Thrush for one thing, a very annoying infection that seems to be more common among women who wear that style of girdle. The tightly fitting crotch makes an ideal breeding ground for bacteria. And those long legs, very bad for your circulation. Especially when the girdle is as tight as yours is on you, the leg bands are restricting your blood flow. How long do you wear it for?’ Martha slowly released the air from the pressure pad as she watched the gauge.

Jean shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t set a timer when I put it on.’

Martha was gradually pumping up the pressure pad again. ‘Well, do you wear it only when you need to, going out or something like that? Or do you just leave it on all day?’

Jean looked down at her girdle and again slid her hands over it. ‘All day I guess. I don’t take it off and on all day. Once it’s on, I leave it on.’

Martha shook her head as she released the air from the pad. ‘You shouldn’t. If you really need to be girdled all day, use an open style. Only wear the panty girdle if you have to, wearing slacks for instance.’ She removed the pad from Jean’s arm and lay it on the desktop. ‘In fact, just to be sure, I think I’d better take a swab. Have it checked for any sign of infection. Go behind the screen and take the girdle down, it doesn’t have to come off, just roll it down so it’s clear of your crotch.’

Jean went to protest but Martha beat her to it. ‘It’s for your own good Mrs. Hammond, and it’ll only take a moment. Better to nip these things in the bud, rather than waiting until it becomes a major problem.’

Jean shook her head. ‘Oh no! Enough is enough. Now I’ve let you prod and poke at me. You’ve even looked inside my bra cups for god’s sake. But I will not, will not remove my girdle. Is that clear? My girdle stays on.’

Martha nodded. ‘I’m sorry if you feel the examination hasn’t been carried out properly Mrs. Hammond. But I can assure you that everything I’ve done is quite normal. In fact, normally I’d have asked you to remove all your underwear before we began. I only made an exception because the doctor requested it. Now, let’s not get hysterical. It’s just a routine examination.’

Jean sighed. ‘It’s just, well, I don’t feel comfortable without my underwear on.’

Martha took her arm and led her across to the examination table. ‘I understand. Of course I understand. It’s difficult for a woman who uses foundation wear to allow herself to be seen without it. Why do you think the doctor asked me to allow you to keep it on? Now, you just lie down on the couch and I’ll finish up.’

Jean lay down, the nurse placed a hand onto the girdle’s tummy panel and pressed against it. ‘That’s quite firm isn’t it? Are you keeping regular?’

Jean shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I guess I’m pretty regular.’

Martha pressed at her stomach again, harder this time and Jean winced. ‘When was the last time you had a bowel movement?’

‘Er, yesterday. No, it was the day before, Wednesday.’

‘That’s no good Mrs. Hammond. At least once every twenty-four hours. At least once. It’s very unhealthy to wear that girdle all day long.’ She moved around to the other side of the table. ‘What I’d like to do is open your girdle. I don’t want you to take it off, but I need to see just how swollen your stomach really is so I’ll know what to do about that constipation you have. Now, will you let me do that?’

‘Do you really need to?’

The nurse nodded. ‘It would really help me. And it isn’t as though your girdle is coming off, I just want to open it’

Jean answered in low voice. ‘I guess that  would be okay.’

‘Good. Now you just relax and I’ll have this open in a jiffy.’ She slid the girdle’s side zip down, then started to release its hook and eye fasteners. Jean groaned as she felt the girdle opening, she raised her head off the couch pillow to look down at her body. As the last hook was opened she gasped and used her hands to cover her stomach. ‘Aw, my girdle. Do it up. Please, fasten it again.’

Martha gently pushed Jean’s hands away. ‘Now calm down Jean, just try and relax for me. I’m going to have to pull the waist down a little, just so I can get a good look at you.’ Jean’s head was shaking from side to side. ‘No please don’t. Just fasten my girdle, please.’

Martha took a grip of the girdle’s high waist and gently eased it down Jean’s body until it was low on her hips. As the nurse felt at the swollen mound of her stomach Jean started to sob, ‘My girdle, put my girdle back.’

Martha looked down at the grown woman behaving like a child that had lost its comforter. ‘Okay Jean, you can calm down now. That’s as much as I need. Goodness Jean, you are swollen.’ Both her hands were now touching the white flesh that bulged out from beneath the tight cuffed waist of Jean’s long line bra. ‘How long has it been like this?’

Jean shook her head. ‘Oh I don’t know.’ She was still sobbing. ‘Weeks? Months? How should I know? I want my girdle on. Please.’

‘You’ve still got your girdle on Jean, just calm down will you? Even allowing for the fact that you’re over weight for your height, this is quite large.’ She removed her hands. ‘Now stop crying Jean. It’s all over. Let’s get you back into your girdle. Come on, stop crying and stand up and I’ll pull your girdle up for you. You don’t want the doctor to see you like this do you?’

Jean swung her legs off the couch and stood up. Her stomach now hung over the top of her rolled down girdle like a beer belly.’ She started to wail again. ‘Look at me! I look fat!’

Martha went behind her and grabbed a hold of the waistband of Jean’s girdle. ‘Actually Mrs. Hammond,’ she gave an almighty heave upwards on the girdle that almost lifted Jean off her feet. ‘Clinically speaking, you’re just over weight. You need another few pounds before I’d class you as fat. And luckily for you, you can hide that extra weight with this girdle and long line bra.’ The girdle slid up over Jean’s waist. ‘There, it’s up. Now, can you fasten it on your own, or do you need help with that as well?’ Jean shook her head. ‘Well that’s something I suppose. Now, if you go into the rest room over there and leave me a urine sample while I have a word with the doctor, that’ll be us almost finished. You might want to freshen your make up as well. I won’t be long.’

Martha was in the reception area with David, they both had cigarettes alight. ‘Oh she’s a tease all right. She couldn’t wait for you to see her in her underwear.’ She blew out a plume of smoke.

David nodded. ‘Yes thank you Martha, I had noticed that myself. It all ties in with what I told you earlier, the problems her husband says she’d having. Any ideas?’

Martha let out a sigh. ‘Well, it isn’t exactly a crime is it, a woman wearing a girdle? But she does need to get out of them, even if it’s only for a few hours a day. She has chronic constipation, and I think she suffers from it on a regular basis.’

‘Martha, I can hardly go in there and tell her to take her girdle off and toss it into the trash. Anyway, she should get some relief at night, when she leaves them off.’

Martha smiled. ‘Oh, if you think this lady takes it off at night, you’re wrong. That’s when she’d enjoy it the most.’

David sighed. ‘Did she tell you that, did she say she wears her girdle to bed?’ Martha shook her head. ‘She doesn’t have to tell me, it’s obvious she’s getting a thrill out of wearing it. I think she must have come close to an orgasm when she walked out from behind that screen and you saw her in her best bra and panty girdle. Probably fulfilled a long standing fantasy’

She didn’t need to elaborate. David knew what his nurse was telling him, he just didn’t enjoy his friend’s wife being talked about like that. ‘Martha, you’re a damn good nurse, but you’re not a psychiatrist. Let’s stick with what we know shall we?’ He shrugged. ‘Sorry, no offence intended. And you are the one who examined her. But was it that obvious to you?’ Martha raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh yes, it was pretty obvious. And we had a little tantrum when I tried to get her to take her girdle off. In the end we compromised, she agreed to let me unhook it. Even then she was obviously distressed, to put it mildly. So, unless she finds you so attractive that she gets aroused just looking at you, I think we should assume it’s her underwear that’s turning her on, don’t you?’

He drew on his cigarette. ‘You sure know how to flatter a guy Martha. This is damn awkward. If I didn’t know her so well I could talk more easily to her. What about tranquillisers, would they do the trick?’

Martha stubbed out her cigarette. ‘She certainly needs something to calm her down. Why don’t you go and mix a couple into a drink, along with a good laxative. I’ve already been talking to her. If you want, I can easily finish explaining her treatment. I’ll exaggerate the long term effects of what she’s doing. Give her a worse case scenario, it may help scare her into doing what I suggest. ’

David nodded. ‘Yes, do that. Who knows, it might have more effect than the pills. I hate to put this onto you, but you’re right, it would be better coming from you, woman to woman. And whatever you do, don’t even hint that you’ve told me everything. It’s going to be hard enough for her to see me socially as it is, if she knew that I knew how bad she’s affected by her underwear?’ He turned to walk away. Martha grabbed his sleeve. ‘And David,’ he stopped and turned to face her. She was about to tell him about Jean’s padded bust and wig, then changed her mind. Leave the man with some illusions. ‘It’s not important. Give her another five minutes to finish putting herself back together, then bring that drink in. I should be finished by then.’

Jean took in a deep breath as her hands felt all over her re-fastened girdle. ‘Feeling better Mrs. Hammond?’ Jean nodded. ‘Much better now thank you.’ Martha held Jean’s skirt open in front of her so Jean could easily step into it. ‘I’ve had a word with the doctor about your stomach problem.’ Jean shook her head. ‘I don’t have a stomach problem.’ ‘Yes you do Mrs. Hammond. If it wasn’t for that girdle you have on, it would be obvious to everyone and you know it. The girdle isn’t the answer, and we need to address the cause of the problem.’

Jean buttoned her blouse and tucked it into the waistband of her skirt. ‘And how do I do that?’

‘Oh it’s quite simple. You need to wear your girdle less often.’ Jean went to speak but the nurse beat her to it. ‘I’ll speak frankly Mrs. Hammond. The doctor is going to give you some pills that will make it easier for you to put up with not having a girdle on. You have to leave it off at night, and you have to leave it off for at least an hour around lunchtime. Of course you can always wear a larger girdle, or one that isn’t quite so firm, if you can’t actually bring yourself to go without one.’

Jean turned and stared at the nurse. ‘What are you getting at? Of course I can go without a girdle.’

‘Now we both know that isn’t true Mrs. Hammond. I’ve been a nurse for a long time, and it was pretty obvious to me that figure control isn’t the only reason you wear a girdle. The pills will help calm you down and reduce the stimulating effect your girdle is having on you.’

To her credit, Jean didn’t argue with the nurse. ‘And if I don’t, if I just keep on wearing them as I do now?’

Martha shrugged. ‘You’ll have stomach problems, minor ones at first, as you’re getting now. These will get worse, the body can’t take being constipated the way yours is. It could mean surgery eventually. And as for the circulation problems, you’ll get numbness in your legs, loss of feeling. You probably get that already. Swollen ankles, varicose veins, if you keep it up you could end up on crutches, or worse.’

Jean had gone pale beneath her make-up. ‘Oh my god. I never realised.’

‘That’s good, very good. At least now you realise that you have a problem. Just take the pills and do as I said. You’ll feel better in no time.’

 

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