Alembic

There was a cool breeze blowing through the open window when I first woke up. It 
was still early; the sun had not yet cleared the trees as I lay in the bed, 
reluctant to start the day, content to listen to the quiet sounds of the 
morning. I dozed for awhile and then finally, regretfully, I pulled myself out 
of bed and went downstairs to make myself some coffee.
The last few days had been hot and now the cool tile of the kitchen floor felt 
good against my bare feet. I started the coffee brewing and leaned against the 
counter, still reluctant to wake up. I had not bothered to get dressed; I still 
had on the shorts and oversized T-shirt that I liked to sleep in. As I stood 
there waiting for the coffee to finish, I contemplated the day ahead of me.
Actually there was nothing on my schedule. Ever since my marriage to Jonathan, 
life had been very carefree. His position and salary was more than sufficient to 
take care of both of us and very soon after the wedding he persuaded me to quit 
my job.
I had not really been looking for a husband to spoil me - I was quite capable of 
taking care of myself - but I had been working in a high-pressure brokerage firm 
for the past few years and was about burned out. I decided to accept his offer, 
if just for a little while, and then decide later whether I should go back to 
work. That was nine months ago and I was still enjoying the unemployed life.
The coffee maker finished it's job and I went to pour myself a cup, sitting down 
at the kitchen table. On the table was an envelope with "Sandra" written across 
the front in Jonathan's handwriting. I tore open the envelope and removed the 
single sheet inside, my eyes filling with tears as I read the note.
 
Sandra,
Had to go to Europe for project of mine that is in trouble.
I will probably be gone for at least six months. I will contact you
when time permits.
You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you.
 
Love, Jonathan
 
I kept looking at the note, hoping it would say something else, but no matter 
how many times I read it, it still said the same thing. My coffee forgotten, I 
sat back in my chair and stared at the small garden in the back of the house.
Soon after our marriage, I learned it was not uncommon for him to get called 
away for one of the many projects that he designed, but usually there was some 
advance notice of some kind.
Six months!
Feeling frustrated and a little angry that he did not wake me up to say 
good-bye, I started to wad up the note to throw it away. There was something 
else in the envelope. Hoping that it was another note from Jonathan, I quickly 
unraveled the envelope and extracted the other item. My heart sank when I saw 
that it was just a reminder card from our dentist for my appointment.
I looked at the date and time and realized in a panic that it was for today. 
More truthfully, it was for 20 minutes from now! I leapt out of my chair and 
hurried back upstairs, throwing my night-clothes off as I ran. Throwing on a 
pair of jeans and another T-shirt, I grabbed my tennis shoes and purse and ran 
out to the car, driving barefoot and already speeding before I got out of the 
driveway.
The dentist was across town, and I knew that there was no way that I could get 
there on time. This was especially frustrating because if it was my old dentist, 
I could have gotten there in five minutes. I had never been to Jonathan's 
dentist before now, and couldn't really understand why he had insisted that I 
switch all my records over. Especially since I rarely got cavities and the only 
dental work I usually needed was a cleaning.
Amazingly enough, I hit all the lights green and was able to pull into the 
parking lot only 10 minutes late. I slipped my shoes on and ran into the 
high-rise building, searching frantically for the directory to tell me where the 
dentist's office was. The eighth floor. I was finally able to catch my breath as 
I waited for the elevator to arrive at the appropriate floor. The building was 
like any other medical building; you knew that there were people here because of 
the cars in the parking lot, but there was not a soul to be seen in any of the 
hallways.
I arrived at the right office, bursting through the entrance, barely noticing 
the sign 
on the door that said "R.S. Gordon, DDS - Cosmetic Medicine & Dentistry." There 
was no one in the waiting room except for a bored looking receptionist on the 
other side of the smoked glass, sliding window. She didn't look up from her work 
as I went up and signed my name on the patient sheet and then sat down to wait.
There was the usual collection of out-of-date magazines arranged neatly on the 
coffee table. I just finished flipping through last months Time when the 
interior door opened and the receptionist called out my name. I followed her 
through the door and down a short hall to a windowless room that was barely 
large enough to hold the dentist's chair.
The receptionist had me sit in the chair, instructing me to wait for the 
dentist. I looked around the room in vague curiosity and quickly regretted not 
bringing one of the magazines with me.
After an indeterminable length of time, I heard the door open behind me. I 
twisted around in the chair to get my first look at my new dentist. She was a 
tiny woman, no more than five feet tall, and about 50 years old. She had that 
no-nonsense look that I remembered so well from the ancient teachers at boarding 
school.
"You haven't been to this other dentist in over a year," she said, looking 
disapprovingly at my chart. "Well, when I talked with your husband last night, 
he mentioned that you were a little cavalier in your personal health."
I knew already that I didn't like her. And I especially didn't like that she and 
Jonathan had been talking about me behind my back.
"Well, we'll have to start from scratch with you," she said.
What followed was a miserable morning spent with my mouth open as the dentist 
poked and prodded and x-rayed and even took impressions of my teeth. And then 
when she was done, she sicced her dental hygienist on me to clean my teeth. They 
were definitely more thorough than any other dentist that I had gone to. I 
probably should have been more appreciative, but by now, my eyes were sore from 
staring into the bright lamp, and the muscles in my lower face were almost 
completely numb from holding my mouth open the entire morning.
Finally it seemed like they were all finished. She left the little room for a 
moment, returning with a rack holding what I assumed were x-rays of my teeth, 
clipping them to the lighted panel.
"Your teeth look pretty good," she said without turning from the x-rays. "But it 
looks like you have one cavity that we need to take of." She pointed to a dark 
spot on one of the x-rays and I pretended to see the cavity. "We'll just take 
care of that now, and then you can be on your way." The dentist smiled for the 
first time, and before I had a chance to protest, she had pulled over a long 
hose with a small face-mask on the end. "I prefer to use twilight sleep instead 
of Novocain," she said. "I don't like to use needles if I can avoid it, and all 
my patients usually prefer this method."
She slipped the mask over my head, fitting it over my nose and pulling the 
rubber strap tight to hold it in place. She turned a knob and I immediately 
started smelling a sweet fragrance in the mask. Quickly, my head started to get 
light and I could feel my muscles grow limp. Suddenly feeling panicky, I tried 
to lift my hand to pull the mask away and discovered that I could not move at 
all. I stared up at the smiling form of Dr. Gordon.
"Well, that didn't take long," she said. "I'll be right back and we can get 
started."
I sat there staring at the wall until she returned. There was really nothing 
else I could do; I was totally paralyzed because of the gas. I was a little 
confused by the twilight sleep. I had never experienced it before, but I had 
always heard that you were almost totally unconscious and were oblivious to what 
was going on around you. But this was different; other than the fact that I 
could not move, I was completely awake and still had the use of all my senses. I 
started to panic again when I realized that this meant I could still feel all 
the things that the dentist was going to do to my teeth. I tried to yell, but 
all that came out was a slight gurgle.
The dentist came back in pushing a cart full of stainless steel instruments. She 
pushed it up next to the chair and then sat down on a high stool.
"It looks like you're about ready," she said. "Actually, I guess I can tell you 
now that you really don't have a cavity." She picked up a small, wedged shape 
piece of rubber and inserted it into my mouth, pushing it between my back teeth 
on the left side. "Remember, I told you that your husband and I talked last 
night. Well, he said that you have such a beautiful smile, - and now that I've 
seen you, I can agree - but that your teeth were a little crooked. We decided 
that a period of orthodontic treatment was necessary." She inserted another 
wedge between my rear teeth on the other side, effectively holding my jaws 
spread far apart. "He also said that you might be a little uncooperative, but he 
gave me permission to use whatever means necessary to get the treatment started. 
Thus our little charade with the cavity."
I stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, the meanings of her words slowly 
sinking into my gas-fogged brain.
"You do have such a beautiful smile," she said, absently tapping her chin. "And 
it could be so much more beautiful; I'm so glad that Jonathan saw the logic in 
putting you in braces."
Finally I understood what she was telling me. The expression of sudden horror 
that showed in my eyes actually made her laugh.
"Yes, dear," she said sweetly. "You're getting braces. That's what we do here: 
Cosmetic Medicine. That means whatever is physically necessary, be it medical or 
dental, to achieve maximum esthetic appeal." She raised her eyebrows. "Didn't 
you know that." she asked in mock innocence and I knew immediately that I had 
been had. Jonathan had obviously arranged the whole thing in advance with the 
doctor, and I had unwittingly followed along.
The doctor looked at her watch and smiled a smile that dripped saccharin. 
"Fortunately, I have no other patients scheduled today, so we can take our time. 
So just relax, this is going to take a little time."
That was the biggest understatement that I had ever heard. Already tired and 
sore from spending the entire morning in this chair, I could do nothing but 
watch in disbelief as she put an amazing amount of metal into my mouth. Despite 
the fact that I was drugged, I could still feel every squeezing and twisting of 
the pliers. She started by inserting a large C-shaped device into my mouth, 
fitting it just behind the lips. When she let go of the thing, my lips were 
stretched wide, apparently to give her room to get at my teeth. Next she started 
attaching metal bands to each of my four, rear teeth. This was done by swathing 
each tooth with cement and then hammering the bands into place. The sound of the 
hammer tapping against my teeth reverberated through my head and sent shivers 
down my spine.
Next came the tedious task of attaching brackets to the rest of my teeth. This 
seemed to take forever, she explained as she went along that each tooth had to 
be lightly etched with an acid so that the bonding material would properly hold 
the bracket on. The gas was making me feel even more hazy and I kind drifted in 
and out, each time opening my eyes and hoping that she was done. When it was 
apparent that all the brackets were attached, she started to fit what she called 
an arch wire onto the brackets. She worked at the wire with a dangerous looking 
tool, and then there was a loud SNAP! in my head which was immediately followed 
by a steady pressure on my teeth. She repeated the procedure with my lower teeth 
and then started feeding a long length of thin, flexible wire into my mouth, 
wrapping a short piece around each bracket and giving it a twist with the 
pliers.
My head was pounding terribly and the muscles in my face were starting to go 
number when she finally sat back from her work and removed the mask from my 
nose. She took out the plastic lip spreader and removed the rubber wedges that 
had held mouth open, and I experienced a weird sensation as my lips slowly 
returned to their normal shape. Almost immediately my head began to clear and I 
was able to give her the full force of a look of hatred. Amazingly, she just 
laughed at me and went to the sink to wash. I ran my tongue over the surface of 
my teeth, amazed at the sharp, rough feel of the brackets. I knew already that 
the next few months were going to be terrible, and although I did not want to 
disappoint Jonathan, I wished that he would have discussed this decision with me 
beforehand.
The dentist came back over and sat down in front of me again.
"Your husband will be very happy to see you," she said with a smile. I rolled my 
eyes and refused to look her in the eyes. "You should consider yourself 
fortunate," she scolded. "This type of treatment is very expensive and your 
husband must care for you very much to send you to me." She absently 
straightened some tools on her tray and then picked up a pair of narrow pliers 
and examined it. "I do not see just anyone. All my customers are heavily 
screened, and there is normally a waiting list of almost six months for this 
type of treatment. But, as you probably know, your husband can be very 
persuasive, and as the result of him being such a long time patient of mine, we 
were able to come to a proper agreement."
She picked up a tiny piece of metal off the tray and held it up for me to look 
at. "By the way, I should say that in the past, some of my patients have been a 
little recalcitrant about their treatment and have even gone so far as to miss 
their appointments, so I have taken to attaching this little device to their 
braces."
I stared at the tiny device that she held between her thumb and forefinger. It 
consisted of a small, V-shaped piece of wire with a small, tight coil at the 
crook of the V. This was a squeezed together and held with a small clip. The 
whole thing was no more than a quarter inch long. She placed the device on the 
tray and took a pair of wire cutters and cut through the clip. With a loud snap, 
the wire sprang apart and shot across the room.
"This is a little invention that I came up with a few years ago," she explained. 
"As you probably know, the saliva in your mouth always contains a small amount 
of acid. The metal clip that holds this little device compressed is made of a 
special alloy that reacts to that acid, slowly deteriorating over a period of 
weeks." She picked up the two severed pieces of the clip and then went over to 
pick up the other piece from it's landing place in the corner. "Now, in 
actuality, the amount of force used in orthodontic treatment is really very 
slight. It is actually the continually applied tension over a period of months 
and years that actually move your teeth." She came back over stood in front of 
me. "I have taken the liberty of attaching one of these little devices to the 
arch wire that connects all the brackets of your upper teeth together. Should 
too much time go by and the little clip deteriorated to the point of breaking, 
the spring will expand, applying it's force to your arch wire. You will be 
exposed to a force almost ten times greater than what is normally used. The 
sudden pressure on your teeth will bring you to a level of pain that quite 
possibly could make you pass out.."
"Now this little clip needs to be replaced about every six weeks in order to 
prevent it from deteriorating. It so happens that I will need you to come back 
every six weeks for adjustments and cleaning. So, you see how this little 
arrangement works? As long as you are on time for your appointments, there will 
be nothing to worry about. Don't bother to come early, I do not see patients 
unless they have an appointment."
She helped me out of my seat and walked with me to the door. "By the way," she 
said, putting her hand on my arm to stop me. "You might want to cut down on soda 
drinks, coffee, tea or anything else that might have excess acid in it. This 
might cause the little clip to dissolve a little faster than normal." She smiled 
widely. "We would not want that to happen. Have a good day," she said as I went 
out the door and made my way to the parking lot.
I got in my car, spraying gravel as I pulled out of the driveway and sped down 
the street. I got about a mile down the street and pulled off to the side of the 
road and parked. I had wanted nothing more than to get out of that office, but 
now my curiosity was getting the better of me. I twisted the rear-view mirror 
around and bared my teeth into, groaning at the sight of the elaborate network 
of metal and wire in my mouth. The brackets were so large that I could barely 
see my actual teeth. A thick wire went straight across my teeth, connecting all 
the brackets together. There was also a series of thin, spidery wire, 
criss-crossing in and around the brackets. I also noticed that every bracket had 
a small hook with a tiny ball on the end. These hooks pointed up on my upper 
teeth and down and my lower teeth and I assumed that eventually the dentist 
would use them to attach rubber bands. Although why every tooth needed one was 
beyond me. Pulling back my lip, I spied the devilish little device that the 
dentist had installed, wondering if there was any truth to he story.
I back away from the mirror and tried to see what my whole face looked like with 
the braces. It was not good. I quickly discovered that there was really no way 
to disguise the fact of the braces. Smiling openly was totally unacceptable. 
Just the thought of it filled me with horrible embarrassment. Unfortunately, the 
alternatives were just as bad. The thick brackets pushed my lips out so much 
that I had to make a concentrated effort to keep my mouth completely closed. And 
the moment I forgot and relaxed my mouth, the braces pushed my lips apart, 
exposing the lines of wire and brackets behind them. After a few moments, I 
finally gave up, making a face at myself in the mirror before re-adjusting it to 
the proper position and driving the rest of the way home.
The rest of the afternoon, I puttered around the house, spending most of the 
time scrolling through the channels on the television. As the afternoon wore on, 
a dull throbbing in my head started to build in intensity. I had always heard 
that getting braces was painful, and I was beginning to get a sense that this 
was true. By the time it was ready to go to bed, the pain in my teeth was 
excruciating. I tried to take some aspirin and made the mistake of biting down 
on the tablet. The shot of pain that went through my jaw was so bad that I 
almost passed out.
That night the pain was so intense that I could not sleep. I spent the entire 
night staring into the darkness of our room, cursing Jonathan for what he had 
done to me, and cursing myself for submitting to his wishes.
The next morning the pain was no better. Eating was completely out of the 
question; even the slightest pressure on my teeth brought tears to my eyes. I 
quickly learned to subsist on a diet of water and aspirin. The only consolation 
that I could take was that I actually lost a little weight.
Eventually, though, the pain subsided and I was able to return to a somewhat 
normal existence. I slowly began to get accustomed to the braces, even if the 
sharp metal still tore up the inside of my mouth, most of the time I did not 
think about them. Although, I did notice that I would still subconsciously run 
my tongue over the brackets almost as if to remind myself that they were still 
there. I found this very strange, but figured that eventually my body would 
realize that they were not going away.
There was one frustration, though. I had always been an avid cola drinker. But, 
remembering the dentist's ominous warnings about heavy acid drinks, I was forced 
to give it up and start drinking water instead. Very frustrating, especially 
with a whole six-pack going to waste in the refrigerator, but I had to admit, 
albeit grudgingly, that I was actually feeling better and healthier than I had 
in a long time. And I was even able to lose a little more weight!
I was still a little hesitant to go out in public. Most of the time I did not 
think about the braces, but occasionally I would catch somebody looking at me 
curiously and I would feel terribly humiliated. It was especially embarrassing 
smiling at the cute men before remembering that I had a mouth full of metal. But 
eventually boredom drove me out of the house and in search of something to do. 
Since I was not working, I spent most of my time shopping and generally wasting 
Jonathan's money. I felt that I deserved it, considering what he was putting me 
through, and I really did not spend that much.
A few weeks later, on a Saturday, I was lounging around the house, doing nothing 
of consequence when a package arrived. Seeing that it was from Jonathan, I 
grabbed the package out of the mailman's hands and signed on the appropriate 
line.
Shutting the door in his face, I went back to the living room, tearing the 
wrapping off the package on the way. I set the box on the coffee table and 
opened it. Inside was a small note in Jonathan's handwriting that said: Found 
this in Stuttgart. I hope you'll love it as much as I do.
In the package was a stiff corset of green satin. I had seen these in some of 
the catalogs that Jonathan and I subscribed to, but I had never worn one before. 
I really did not have much desire to start wearing one now either, but still, I 
was a little curious. I unrolled the corset and another small slip of paper 
dropped out. I grabbed it up quickly, thinking that it was another note from 
Jonathan, but it turned out to be instructions for lacing and wearing the 
corset. In the lower right hand corner was stamped: Size 20. I attached no 
significance to that since I knew that European sizes rarely coincided with US 
sizes. I saw that it was already loosely laced in the pattern described in the 
instructions, so I wrapped it around my midriff, actually enjoying the cool feel 
of the satin, and connected the snaps together in front - what the instructions 
called the "busk."
I grabbed hold of the two ends of the laces, and tried to pull the corset tight 
around my body. As it got smaller, I could feel my spine start to straighten and 
I realized that I should probably be standing up. Sucking in my breath, I pulled 
on the laces again, feeling the corset compress my stomach and reduce my waist 
line. I tied off the end of the laces and went to the upstairs to our bedroom 
where a full-length mirror was located. As I walked up the stairs, I had to grab 
hold of the banister; the enforced posture of my body actually leaving me a 
little unbalanced.
As I stood in front of the mirror, I found that I actually liked the shape that 
reflected back to me. Turning around though, I quickly saw that the corset was 
too small. According to the instructions, the two edges of the corset should 
meet in the back; but these were almost six inches apart. I could see the laces 
digging into my skin, looking nothing like the miniature picture that came with 
it.
I untied the laces and tried to pull them tighter, but after much straining, I 
really was not able to accomplish much. I let the laces go and unhooked the 
corset in disappointment. I actually might have liked the thing. I always loved 
to wander through the lingerie shops to find interesting things, and I loved the 
feel of satin against my skin. The corset might have been fun; maybe not to 
where out in public, but certainly as a part of our love-making.
I went back downstairs and put the corset back in it's box. There was no address 
on the instructions so I had no way that I could send the thing back. I only 
hoped that Jonathan had held onto the receipt.
The next day I received a card in the mail reminding me of my appointment with 
the dentist. I laughed humorlessly as I considered the likelihood of forgetting 
the appointment with the dentist's ticking time bomb in my head. Every morning 
since I got the braces, I pulled my lip back to see if the little clip was still 
in one piece. I could see no deterioration, but I was not going to take the 
chance that she was lying. If the pain I experienced after getting the braces on 
was any indication, it was something I would try to avoid at all costs.
The appointed day finally arrived. I waited in the reception area for almost an 
hour before the dentist appeared and gestured me back into the office. I sat in 
her chair and obediently opened my mouth while she inserted the big lips 
spreader and poked around inside. She removed the arch wires from my upper and 
lower teeth and meticulously cleaned all the individual brackets. When she was 
done, she replaced the arch wires with new wires. I could instantly feel renewed 
pressure on my teeth as she snapped them into place.
"Well, you seem to be doing pretty well," she said, speaking for the first time. 
"You are obviously brushing your teeth correctly and flossing regularly. I'll 
think this will go just fine." She picked up another tiny clip from her tray and 
fitted it to the end of a small pair of pliers. "We'll go ahead and replace this 
little guy, too."
She took another pair of pliers from her tray and inserted them both into my 
mouth. Suddenly, there was a burst of extreme pressure on my teeth. I grabbed 
the arms of the chair, squeezing them tightly as I felt her manipulating the 
pliers inside my mouth. Then there came a loud click that I felt through my 
entire head and the pressure immediately abated. She pulled the pliers from my 
mouth and smiled sweetly.
"There," she said. "That should last you until the next appointment."
"By the way, I spoke with your husband Jonathan last night," she said as she 
picked up the tools and deposited them in the sink. "He wanted to find out how 
you were doing with your braces."
I wondered why was Jonathan calling her, and I wondered even more why he hadn't 
called me.
"He also wanted to me to ask you if you had received the package that he'd 
sent," she went on. "Apparently he had to look a long time to find just the 
right one." She poked my stomach with her forefinger. "He probably wouldn't want 
to know that you were not wearing it."
I shied away from her poking, thinking that this was none of her business.
"Oh that reminds me," she said. "I want to check this fit."
Absently I complied, still wondering why Jonathan had called her instead of me. 
She slipped a piece of plastic into my mouth that looked sort of like the mouth 
guard that football players wear.
"Bite down," she instructed. It was hard to bite down with my lips still spread 
apart. "Does this fit? Move your lower jaw forward a little." Thinking that she 
was taking another impression of some type, I moved my teeth around, only to 
discover that there were already indentations in the plastic that fit my teeth 
exactly. "There," she said. "Now hold that position while I finish this up."
She picked up another pair of pliers and a spool of wire, threading the wire 
into my mouth. I had become so used to her working in my mouth that I didn't 
really pay any attention to what she was doing until she gave the pliers a short 
twist and I could feel my teeth pressing more firmly into the plastic. I mumbled 
a faint protest through my clenched teeth which she ignored totally, not even 
looking up at me. She repeated the twist of the pliers a number of times, 
continuously feeding a steady stream of wire into my mouth She removed the 
pliers and then smiled down at me.
"There, how does that feel?"
I stared up at her, wide eyed. My jaws were solidly wired together! I tried to 
shift my teeth but could not achieve even the slightest movement. I frantically 
felt around the inside of my mouth with my tongue. The plastic bite plate was 
firmly wedged between my teeth and completely immovable.
"Your husband indicated that you might be a little reticent about wearing your 
new corset," she explained. "He also told that he'd become a little concerned 
about your weight. Apparently the way you sometimes try to cope with loneliness 
is to eat, and since he is not here to hold you accountable, he hoped that maybe 
he could provide you with a little long-distance moral support." She stood up 
and smiled down at me. "Simply put, your jaws will stay wired together until the 
corset fits correctly." I continued to stare at her, round-eyed in surprise. 
"That means that the two edges of the corset have to meet when you lace it 
together."
She removed the stretching device from my mouth and I again felt the strange 
sensation as my lips slowly returned to their normal size. I was hardly aware of 
it though as the reality of her words sunk in.
"Now," she went on. "Merely losing weight is not going to achieve the results 
that we are after. The corset itself will actually reshape your body and give 
you that small waist that every woman desires. To achieve this effect, the 
corset should be worn 24 hours a day, taking it off only long enough to perform 
your bathing duties." She removed the clip-on bib from around my neck and threw 
it into the trash. "I'm sure the corset that your husband sent included 
instructions. If these are followed exactly, along with your new dietary 
incentive, you should be able to accomplish what your husband wants fairly 
quickly." She shrugged. "It's really just a question of discipline."
She went to the sink and started washing her hands. "Your husband has entrusted 
me with verifying your progress, so be sure to wear the corset when you come for 
your appointments. Otherwise, there will be no way to determine if I should 
remove the wires from your jaws."
With that, she went out the door. After a few minutes, when she didn't come 
back, I realized that the appointment was over. I made my way out of the office 
to where my car was parked. I drove out of the parking lot a little more 
sedately than my last visit; really more confused than angry. However, as I got 
down the street, my curiosity got the best of me again and I pulled over to the 
curb again to inspect this latest diabolical creation in my mouth.
I did not think it possible to attach anymore metal to my teeth, but the tangle 
of wire that reflected back at me from the rear-view mirror almost caused me 
physical pain. Each of the little hooks that I had noticed before on all of the 
brackets served as a wiring post to hold my jaws together. My teeth were pressed 
firmly into the plastic. The wire that looped over the hooks actually passed 
through tiny holes in the plastic, apparently to prevent any possibility of it 
being dislodged. I tried again to move my teeth, watching closely for any 
movement, but my jaws were firmly locked together.
I slammed the car back into gear and pulled out into traffic to head home, 
spending the rest of the day being mad at Jonathan. That evening, the newly 
tightened wires of my braces started to make my teeth hurt like crazy. To make 
matters even worse, it was virtually impossible to get an aspirin tablet past my 
wired jaws. I tried crushing it, and mixing it in a glass of water, but most of 
the water ended up dribbling down my chin and I finally gave up, spending 
another long night in pain.
The next day, Saturday, my teeth did not feel any better, but I knew I needed to 
do something to take my mind off my troubles. I went out to the local mall to 
shop for some clothes, always a guaranteed method of cheering myself up. 
Unfortunately, after several frustrating and failed attempts to speak to the 
sales-people, I realized that with my jaws wired together I could not form most 
of the sounds necessary for speaking. The plastic bit wedged between my teeth 
got in the way of my tongue and prevented me from speaking properly, and what 
sound did come out was garbled and metallic. Finally, totally frustrated, and 
near to tears, I left the mall and went back home to sulk.
The next few days, I did not go out of the house. My teeth still hurt, so food 
was very far from my mind, and for the moment I was content to subsist on a diet 
of water and milk. I did experience the same weight loss that I had had the 
after my previous appointment, and that did give me a little consolation. But 
very soon, the pain in my teeth slowly subsided and I quickly became famished.
I knew that normal eating was obviously an impossible task; and it was a sad 
realization that any food that I wanted now would somehow have to go through a 
straw. Unfortunately the thought of most of my favorite things being reduced to 
a substance the consistency of baby food totally disgusted me, and I found 
myself frequenting health-food stores looking for nutritional shakes and other 
liquid diet products. Because I had no choice, I learned to like these products 
and even got a little creative with some of the flavors. Although, as the weeks 
wore on, I would gladly have given anything for a bite of a hamburger.
I knew that I was losing weight, and although I didn't bother standing on the 
scales, I just felt trimmer and healthier. Plus, I actually had another benefit 
from having my jaws wired together: it was now impossible for me to bite my 
nails, a habit that I had never been able to shake. For the first time in my 
life, my fingernails grew out long and natural. Now I took great pleasure in 
showing them off, smiling widely at compliments before clamping my lips together 
quickly as I remembered the twisted metal in my mouth.
Even though I was feeling better than I had in years, I knew that mere weight 
loss was not going to necessarily help my dilemma. After much reluctance and 
defiance, I finally decided to make another attempt at wearing the corset. 
Besides, my next appointment with the dentist was tomorrow, and I knew better 
than to try and imagine what forms of torture she would implement if she found 
that I had not been wearing it.
The next morning, feeling surprisingly peaceful about my decision to finally 
relent to the pressures placed on me by Jonathan and Dr. Gordon, I took a long 
and leisurely bath and then went to the bedroom to put on the corset.
I stood in front of the mirror and wrapped it around my body, again enjoying the 
smooth feel of the material, and snapped the busk together. I pulled on the 
laces, watching my reflection in the mirror as the corset formed itself to the 
shape of my now reduced waist. I waited a few moments, and then just as the 
instructions indicated, pulled even harder on the laces, squeezing every 
possible inch out of my waistline. I waited and then repeated the procedure 
again before tying off the laces.
I studied myself in the mirror, truly amazed at the shape of my waist and it's 
overall effect on my figure. I put my hands around the corset, strangely aroused 
at the stiff feel of boning, and tried to encircle my waist with my fingers and 
thumbs, surprised at how close they came together. Hesitantly, I turned around, 
looking over my shoulder to inspect the distance between the two edges of the 
corset. I let out a sigh of disappointment when I saw that there remained at 
least another two inches to go before the edges would meet. Still, as I turned 
around to face the mirror again, I could not help but appreciate the image of my 
body and the rigid definition brought on by the corset. Suddenly curious, I went 
over to the desk and rummaged around in the drawers for a tape-measure, the 
search made difficult because I could not bend at the waist. Discovering one in 
the bottom drawer, I quickly put it around my waist. 22 inches! I could not 
believe my eyes. I had not had even a 24" waist since high-school and had never 
dreamed that I would return to such a small size, much less 22 inches! It then 
occurred to me that the size on the corset instructions had said 20. My hopes 
began to die just then as I realized that I could never reach such a size.
I glanced at the clock on the night stand and went into palpitations. My 
appointment was in ten minutes. Knowing that I would not be able to get jeans on 
over the corset, I grabbed a long sun-dress out of the closet and through it 
over my head. With a feeling of deja-vu, I picked out a pair of shoes and ran 
bare-footed down the stairs and out to the car.
As I sat at the first of what turned out to be many red lights, I found that I 
was having difficulty breathing. The mad dash that I had made to get to my car 
had left me out of breath and I realized that the tight-fitting corset 
constricted my waist so much that I could only breathe by taking short gasps. 
Also, with my jaws wired together, I could not open my mouth to increase the 
intake of oxygen. My head was spinning and I felt like I was going to pass out 
until I got my breath under control.
I pulled into the parking lot of the medical building almost ten minutes late. I 
ran into the building, cutting my bare feet on the sharp gravel. I took the 
elevator upstairs and came down the hall just as Dr. Gordon was locking the door 
to her office. She made a big show of looking at her watch and then looking at 
me in annoyance.
"You are fortunate that my last appointment ran a little overtime," she said 
crossly as she unlocked the door and beckoned me inside. "I trust that this will 
not happen again."
Holding my shoes in my lap, I sat down in the examining chair and waited as the 
dentist set her purse down and came over to examine my teeth. Without inserting 
the stretching device into my mouth, she pulled my lips back and inspected the 
braces.
"These seem to be doing okay. I will assume that you are brushing and gargling 
regularly." It didn't sound so much like a question as a warning. I decided not 
to respond.
She picked up a long, sharp instrument from her tray and inserted into the back 
of my mouth, along the outside of the teeth. She gave it a sharp twist and I 
immediately felt a steady pressure on my teeth; I knew already that I was going 
to be in for another few days of pain.
She sat back and looked at me inquiringly. "You seem to have lost a little 
weight," she said. "Perhaps you finally saw the logic in your husband's 
desires." She pressed her hand against my stomach, feeling the stiff shape of 
the corset beneath my dress. "Do you think you're ready for an inspection?"
Again, it didn't sound like a question. This time more like an order. I stood up 
with my back to her and unzipped the back of my dress enough so that she could 
see the laces of the corset.
"Take it off," she snapped suddenly. I jumped and turned around to stare at her. 
"Take off the dress completely. Only then will I make my judgment."
I knew better than to contest the wild look in her eyes, even if I could get a 
few understandable words out. I unzipped the dress the rest of the way and let 
it fall to the floor. She walked around me slowly, reaching out to touch the 
corset and testing the tightness of the laces.
"You can put your dress back on now," she said returning to her normal voice. 
"It looks like you've still got a little more weight to lose." She gestured me 
back to the chair. "I think that will be all for today. Let me replace our 
little persuader-clip and you can be on your way."
She quickly substituted the tiny clip on my braces for a new one and then 
followed me out of the office, locking the doors behind her.
"I will let your husband know that you are making progress," she said. "Don't be 
late to your next appointment," she said warningly as we rode down in the 
elevator. "If you do that one more time I'll have to increase the amount of 
tension in your braces to keep you on schedule." She smiled a cold smile as she 
watched me recall the painful days after each tightening. "You don't want me to 
do that."
She got in her car and pulled out of the driveway, leaving me standing there, 
still holding my shoes in my hand. After a couple of failed attempts to put on 
my shoes, the corset digging into my sides every time I leaned over, I finally 
dropped the pumps on the ground and righted them with my foot so I could step 
into them.
I got into my car and drove slowly out the drive and headed home, trying not to 
think of the throbbing that had already started in my teeth. I did not think it 
possible to reduce my waist size anymore, but I was determined to do whatever 
was possible to get this mess of wire out of my mouth. It was not eating that 
was the problem anymore; I had learned quickly that I would not starve to death 
while on a liquid diet. What was frustrating me the most was my inability to 
talk. Every time I tried to communicate to somebody through my clenched teeth, 
it came out mumbled and unintelligible. Also, I found it very disconcerting and 
embarrassing to have somebody stare in rapt fascination at the braces and wire 
in my mouth as I tried to talk. I knew I could not handle much more of this. 
But, knowing I did not have much choice, I resigned myself to submitting to my 
husband's desires (and Dr. Gordon's demands) and start to wear the corset 
continually.
The first few days were the worst, the corset constantly dug into my skin, and I 
could not get used to the shortness of breath that it produced. It did help me 
to take my mind off of the pain in my teeth, but other than that, it was a real 
nuisance. Sleeping in the corset was almost impossible. I was used to sleeping 
on a soft mattress and could never get quite comfortable within the confines of 
the corset. Still, I could not deny that I enjoyed the look and feel of the 
corset at other times.
Soon, though, it became a routine; every morning I would wake up and take off 
the corset, feeling my back muscles relax as they're released from the pressure 
of the stiff boning. After bathing and meticulously drying myself off, I would 
powder myself down with scented talc and then slip on the corset, pulling on the 
laces as hard as I could before tying them off and finishing up my bathroom 
duties. Sitting at my vanity, I would put on my makeup and then brush my teeth 
and braces carefully. This usually took about twenty minutes, at which time I 
would pull on the corset laces again to make sure that the corset was as tight 
as possible before going to inspect myself in the mirror.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I could see that the edges of the corset 
were getting closer and closer together and I was getting excited by the 
prospect of having it fit properly and being released from my bondage. 
Unfortunately, after awhile I seemed to hit a wall and no amount of stretching 
and pulling would bring the two edges of the corset closer together. I resolved 
not to get too disappointed at this lack of progress, but I could not help being 
frustrated with the two edges being so close together, but refusing to meet. 
Every morning, I would pull and pull on the laces, trying to get them budge even 
a little bit, until finally, close to tears, I would give up and start dressing 
for the day.
A few weeks later, my next appointment with Dr. Gordon came up. I got up and 
went through the morning routine automatically, pulling on the laces of the 
corset and then giving myself a cursory glance in the mirror. This time, 
however, I did a double-take and looked more closely. The two ends of the corset 
were actually touching! I stared at my reflection in disbelief, almost not 
trusting what my eyes told me.
Frantically, as if the sight would disappear if I turned away for even a moment, 
I pulled open the drawers in the desk and retrieved the tape measure. 20 inches! 
I let the tape fall to the floor and went to stand in front of the mirror again.
As I stared into the mirror, I realized that the tall, lithe looking woman 
looking back was actually me. I now had a figure that most women would die for. 
The straight posture that resulted from the corset made me appear taller, the 
narrow waist accentuating the shape of my hips and breasts. I stood up on my 
toes, admiring the exaggerated vertical lines of my calves and thighs.
I smiled, strangely pleased at the sight of the braces glinting in the morning 
sun, and knowing that it was because of them that I had become the person that I 
saw reflected in the mirror.
My smile faded a little as I realized what the outcome of this morning's 
revelation would be. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, experiencing 
a sense of pleasure and security at the feel of the plastic bite-plate wedged 
firmly and immovably between my teeth. I moved my hands up and down the length 
of the corset, enjoying the smooth texture of the satin and the rigid support of 
the boning. I knew that the image before me was totally the result of the 
physical and emotional restraints placed upon me by Jonathan and Dr. Gordon. I 
also realized that I really had no desire to return to the unstructured and 
undisciplined lifestyle that I had enjoyed before.
In that moment, I came to a decision and my smile returned in full. I turned 
again with my back to the mirror, strangely excited as I slowly loosened the 
laces of my corset, watching carefully as the edges separated before tying them 
off.
Feeling very peaceful and contented, I finished dressing and went to honor my 
appointment with Dr. Gordon.