Wearing a corset can be fun? Who knew?!

Mom tried to talk me out of wearing the corset but I wanted to dress up for Rory and the gaming guys and the only way I would fit into any of the dresses I owned was if I wore a corset.

“Mom, please,” I said. “All of these lace up in back. I need help to put them on.”

“If you were experienced you could put on and take off even back-lacing corsets like these,” she said, examining the three samples I had.

“Really?” I couldn’t imagine how. With the corset I wore yesterday on, I couldn’t even reach the laces to undo a bow.

Mom discarded that very specimen. “Junk,” she said. “Probably $30 at some trendy shop for emo teenagers.”

I giggled since that described Le Trend pretty good. “You probably couldn’t wear it more than half a dozen times before something gave out, or a stay came through the lining and stabbed you.”

“Yike?” I glared at the offending article.

“Now these two,” she said looking at the two newer corsets, one creamy white satin with teeny tiny sunflowers and the other equally silky black with tiny roses. “These are about as good as non-custom made corsets get. See? They have several adjustments, not just the main laces. Did Margo have all your measurements?”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

“Are you going to be wearing the green dress on the bed?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay,” Mom said. “Get your bra and panties on that you’re going to wear and I’ll loosen the laces in the white one so we can easily get you into it. It’s well-lined, you won’t need an undercorset to keep it from pinching. I’ll bet this will fit better, be easier to wear and get your waist down an inch smaller than the other one.”

“Thanks, Mom!” I said. I took off my bra and peeled off the little silicone filler pads, which felt weird, by the way. Then while Mom worked on the corset, I found the larger breast forms that came in Marjorie’s package. Like the smaller Chick-Fil-As (ha!) these had a peel-away facing that revealed a sticky back.

They were very life-like, pale realistic breasts with nipples. I used the mirror to place them carefully over my own nipples. They were a close match for my own skin color, darn near vampire-white except for freckles higher up on my chest and neck. I giggled seeing them perched there, the weight pulling on my skin being noticeable.

Mom commented, “If you keep taking the hormones, you won’t need fake boobs much longer. When I started developing, I went from not-quite A to a full C cup in two years.” She glanced down at herself. “After having a baby—you—I went up another two cup sizes. So careful about what you may be wishing for.” She grinned.

I grabbed up one of the bras Marjie had sent and put it on, giggling even more. I wouldn’t mind at all having Mom’s figure, I thought. In a few years, maybe. I noticed what she was doing and asked, “Why are you using a damp sponge?”

“Makes it easier to get a good fit. You don’t want the corset wet, or really even damp. Just moist. The laces, the busk, places where it might bind. You’ll see. It will be easier to tighten and more comfortable for wearing.” She handed me a small, pink roll-on thingie. “Use some of this, everywhere the corset will cover. It’ll help it go on smooth and prevent chafing.”

“Just roll it on like deodorant?”

“Uh-huh. Belly, sides, under your breasts, I’ll get your back.”

“Where did you get this stuff?” I asked as we applied it everywhere. It had a dry but almost waxy feel to it and a faint flowery scent. Once it warmed up on my skin, it felt more oily.

“It was in the box under the lingerie. This is an underbust corset, I guess because an overbust one might damage the fake boobies.” More giggles from me. I’ve got to get over giggling about stuff like that. Mom gave me a severe look, then helped me slip into the corset which was very loose.

“I’ve got a feeling these are not the last corsets Marzipan is going to try to buy for you. Tell her to get undercorsets next time, otherwise skin oils and stuff like this anti-chafe cream will damage the fabric.”

“Uh-huh?” I thought of something. “Mom, you seem to know a lot about corsets.”

“Mm-hmm,” she agreed. “You and Marla are not the only people who like how they make a girl look. And I used one to help me get my figure back after having you. It’s easier to stay on a diet, too, when you’re wearing one.”

“Oh, yeah.” I remembered my experience at the restaurant yesterday. It had been hard to eat more than about half as much as I usually ate.

The corset felt cool against my skin, the satiny fabric so smooth and silky that I shivered a bit, pleased by the feeling. Then she tightened the laces to a snug fit. “How small do we need to get your waist?” she asked.

“Twenty three inches?” I said.

Mom produced a measuring tape. “Twenty-six and a quarter, someone should not have had that ice cream. We can do this. Take a deep breath, let it all out and hold it.” In just a few minutes of repeating such maneuvers, she had it tightened up to where my waist measured less than twenty-three inches but I didn’t feel nearly as pinched as I had the day before.

“How’s that?” she asked.

“Very comfortable,” I admitted. I could imagine wearing something no tighter than this for hours, which I would have to do if I went to the game. Well, I’d done so yesterday with an even less comfortable corset.

The doorbell rang. “That’s either more packages or Marblehead is early,” Mom remarked.

Mar—?—oh. “That’s a reach, Mom.” I laughed, glancing at the clock on my dresser. “Can’t be Rory, way too soon.”

Mom was already heading out to the hall. “Finish dressing. Wear some pantyhose, try the pink-patterned pair.” She paused in the doorway.

“Pink? I look terrible in pink, Mom,” I reminded her.

“It’ll be far enough from your face and the pink will make the green of your dress really pop. Besides, you’re going to want to wear something so you don’t feel so naked.” She disappeared down the hall as the bell rang again.

“Huh?” I wondered what she meant by that until I slipped the dress on. It was like eight inches above my knees! “Effing Marblehead!” I exclaimed when I looked in the mirror. I had t-shirts longer than this dress. If I raised my arms above my head, I might be giving a show! “Damnit,” I swore. “But it’s so cute!”

I found the package with the pink patterned hose. They weren’t as thick as tights or as opaque being made of two layers of pink and salmon woven material with little flowery details. I tried them on, the built-in panty snugged up against my padded briefs. I had to go down the hall to the bathroom to get a full-length view.

Mom had been right. I looked adorable. Giggling, I dashed back to my bedroom to deal with my makeup, find some shoes and jewelry, and figure out if I could do anything with my hair.

I could hear Mom and Marjorie talking in the living room. At least they weren’t shouting or cursing at one another.

Grabbing my makeup kit, I stared at the clock beside the unopened package on my dresser. It was 7:02. That was so unfair! I began a quick job on my face, I didn’t have enough experience to do a thorough job quickly, so mascara, a bit of blush, and lip-color would have to do.

I brushed my short red hair this way and that, but it still looked like a recovering case of bedhead. I found a bag of colored ribbons in one of the opened boxes but I had no real idea how to tie a ribbon in my hair. My first try made me look like the redheaded girl from the Happy Meal commercial.

No time. I took the ribbon off, and started opening shoeboxes, quickly finding a pair of heels, black with green accent panels. I tried them on. A little higher than I had worn before but an afternoon of prancing around in the high heel thongs made me feel brave. Also, taller.

No one was calling down the hall for me to make an appearance and I didn’t hear Rory’s truck outside so I opened the small box I thought contained jewelry. I took a breath and wiped my forehead.

I’d been right. There were eight pieces and these did not look like cheap glass and 14k gold plate. I couldn’t wear the earrings yet, so I set them aside, my ears would heal in a week or so. But a bracelet made of interlocking gold and silver hearts went immediately on my left wrist. A necklace with a chain similar to the bracelet also had two much larger, sparkly hearts intertwined each with a gem in the middle, one red, one green.

According to the card with the necklace, the gems were semi-precious beryl but they looked fantastic. That went on, then a ring with a similar motif. The other pieces would have been overkill, a second necklace, choker style, and a gaudier bracelet. Nope. But the last item baffled me until I realized it was a hair clip. I tried to figure out how to wear it, but again was defeated due to having been a girl for just over one day.

I heard an engine in the drive. Rory. The clock said 7:28. He was late but he’d given me almost enough time to get ready. I put things I might need in my new beaded purse and grabbed the cloth bag of gaming stuff to set beside the door.

The doorbell rang. I heard Rory’s rumbling baritone at the door then he apparently came inside. I should wait for someone to call me, I decided. A girl is never ready when the guy is, she must make him wait a bit. It sounds silly but it’s really part of the power dynamic. She makes him wait so they both know she’s worth it.

I remembered perfume and put that on then checked my makeup again.

Mom called down the hallway. “Kissy, your boyfriend is here for your date.”

I grinned in my room where no one could see. Mom had just put one across your bows, Marzipan!

Suppressing giggles, I went out to see if there had been any more blood shed.