Bondage and torture -- saga of a bar wench

This was originally written 2 years ago before this blog was up and running.  I sat at the computer with nothing more than a photo of the costume I wish I could wear on Halloween.  The rest, as they say, is fiction ... or was it?

So, I had been perusing Halloween costumes online. They always show these very thin women dressed in the sexy outfits. Some ads will say "Plus Sizes Available." Oh groovy! However, they don't often show what a pleasantly plump, fully bosomed woman looks like in said 'plus size' costume.

It's a harsh reality when you take the "bar wench" costume from it's hermetically sealed plastic wrap. You attempt to work out the creases and folds from the acrylic fabric in a steamy shower. You use all the hot water trying to fill the bathroom with enough steam to iron it out. To no avail you're left with, at best, a slightly damp wrinkled garment.

While donning your flesh tone 18-hour bra and granny panties, you slip into your fantasy wench attire. The capped puff sleeve goes up on one shoulder, then the other. You look down to find your 18-hour bra doesn't want to be discreet. You attempt to pull the top to cover the bra. In doing so, the lace-up bodice slides upward to the center of your ample bust. You're feeling more than plus-size. You think Omar the Tent maker might be getting a call.

You strip and go in search of that horrific yet slut-a-rific get up you bought in hopes of wearing it one day to turn on your man. However, the man never came along and it was too much sweat and tears to get it on. This modern day version of medievil torture looks far too complicated. The hook n' eyes on the BACK of the bustier/girdle/torture device mock you. You think to yourself that you once conquered those second skin Levi's that were too small.

You realize that you're not as limber as you once were. So, stretching is in order. Afterall, you have to manage to get your arms behind your back. The art of dislocation isn't your strong suit. Therefore, you seek out that yoga DVD that's only gathered dust since you bought it from that annoying, yet convincing skinny bitch who swears (at 3 am on a paid programming ad) you'd lose weight in the first week. You skip putting on the special yoga outfit. Your 18-hour bra and granny panties will suffice.

Sweating and feeling worse than you did before the DVD, you head to the shower. However, there is no hot water because you wasted it all on trying to get that bar wench costume steamed out. So, you just towel off and head back to the torture chamber where the bustier and her friend, the mighty girdle, await you.
With a lot of wriggling and bouncing you manage to get the girdle pulled up over your butt. In the meantime, you've knocked every knicknack off the dresser from bouncing. You stop for a moment and rest on the bed's edge. You look down to find that this girdle is clearly forcing your internal organs to jut upwards and spill over the top of the girdle. You find solace in knowing the bustier will give you an over all smoothness.
Standing up you face the hook n' eye challenge. Sucking in your organs, you manage the first couple hooks. You feel behind you to make sure it's not cock-eyed. Awesome! You're on a roll. Now, only 20 more to go. On hook 8 You need a breather and water. The heavy panting has left you breathless and parched. With both breasts waving to and fro you head downstairs to the kitchen. You realize the curtains are open so you drop to your knees and crawl like you're in Army boot camp. At the refrigerator you find a bottle of water, but don't stand up in fear that the neighbor could be out there. Leaning against the wall you drink your water and pray your efforts will be worth the pain.

Shimmying back upstairs you face the enemy. Five hooks down. However, the blood has left your arms and shoulders and you feel a tingle. You wonder if this is a stroke. You shake it off and continue. Alas the final hook is hooked, but your boobs are still dawdling above the cups. You adjust and cram them where they are supposed to reside. You look in the full mirror hoping to admire the fruits of your labor only to realize your back fat is now fully pushed to the brim of the bustier and you have a lovely Quasimoto hump working back there....and you have to pee thanks to the bottle of water you chugged an hour before.

Downstairs you go. Completely not caring about the neighbors seeing you in this get up. If they dare to peer into your windows they deserve to be frightened! You wiggled and squirm trying to get the girdle down far enough so you can go to the bathroom. Relief! You do your business and get the girdle back up. You figure you might as well put on the super support queen size pantihose before you put on the fishnet stockings that were supplied with the costume. Another triumph and lots of sweat! You chuck the fishnets because they aren't intended for anyone over 5'0" and the crotch hits you about mid-thigh.

At last! You get the costume on and you get a call that your friends will pick you up at 7pm... TOMORROW NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! You tell them to forget it! You're certain you'll be in traction and unable to attend.