About me

In this post, I will briefly introduce myself. I'll be pretty open here, because part of why I started this blog is to get in contact with people who share my fetish. I'll get to that later.

First off: my age, sex and location: I am a 28 year old male who lives in Belgium.

Sexual orientation: this is complicated. I'm not attracted to men. Whether I am attracted to women is harder to tell for sure. My sexual dreams definitely involve women, but I don't get aroused just by beautiful/naked/sexy women - only in combination with my fetish. So I actually think I am asexual. I only get turned on by my fetishes.

Fetishes: I won't go into detail here. Read my stories and you know what I'm attracted to.

Dominant/submissive: I am submissive. Many of my stories involve dominance. I fantasize about being the one that is kept under control in those stories.

My dream: I would love to have a dominant person control me for a while. This person can be male or female; a woman would be preferable but it doesn't matter too much. I'm not really looking for sex. I just want someone to force me to live out my fetishes for a few days.

Another thing I'd like to experience is bondage. Probably in combination with down jackets etc, but it's not even really necessary. I get turned on by bondage scenes even when they don't involve thick clothes, although it's still secondary to my fetishes. I have hardly any experience in this area. I've done a little light selfbondage but that's it.

Other than that, I'm open for a lot of things. Rubber, for example, is something I've never experienced, but I've read and seen a lot of it online and it looks interesting. I wouldn't mind trying that at some point.

So now you know a lot about me. I hope I can get something out of this. If you are at all interested in any of this, write me a message. You can post here or email me at i_like_to_wear_hoods at hotmail dot com.

Kuomu

Overview

Raissa's Quest (part 3)

-- read part 1 here --
-- read part 2 here --

Behind the gate appeared a young woman who was dressed almost as bizarre as Raissa. She was wearing a classic black and white maid's uniform, but it was so shiny it almost had to be made entirely out of some sort of rubber. Also, even through her thick hoods Raissa could hear the clanking sound of metal. The woman's hand and feet were chained, and between both sets of cuffs was a connecting chain. If she wanted to walk straight, she had to keep her hands together as low as she could to allow enough slack in the feet chain. Conversely, when she reached her hands up to unattach Raissa's leash from the gate and open it, she had to keep her feet together to allow her hands to move high enough.

The girl opened the gate and pulled Raissa's leash to urge her forward. Then she closed it again and led Raissa towards the house. All this time the unknown girl remained silent, which was understandable since she had a big black ball gag strapped in her mouth. Slowly the odd pair made their way to the front door, and then through a hall into a side chamber. The room contained a table and some chairs, but Raissa wasn't offered one. Instead the girl attached her leash to a hook in the wall before leaving the room. Then the girl took the drawstrings of Raissa’s hood and pulled them tight, closing Raissa’s hood completely.

There was nothing Raissa could do about the situation. She just had to stand there and wait. Distantly she heard noise somewhere in the building - music and talking? Was she at some kind of party?

She heard the door open. She breathed heavily and quickly inside the down hood, fearful of what would come. The leash was unhooked and she was led somewhere. She now distinctly heard the noise of many people in one room. A door was opened, and Raissa knew she was now in the room with all the people. For a moment, all the talking stopped, and then resumed. Although Raissa couldn’t hear much of the conversation, she knew everyone was now looking at her and commenting. Although she was invisible under her hood, she blushed in humiliation. She wanted to run away, but what could she do, blind and dressed as she was?

Again she was led forward, and then her back was placed against a surface. Someone pulled at her legs, indicating that she had to spread them. Then she felt rope being tied around them and they were pulled towards the surface behind her. More rope was tied above and below her breasts, and she realized she was standing against some kind of pillar and she was being tied to it. Raissa’s legs and body were immobile now, only her arms were still free, but they were up next. Raissa’s hands were pulled forward and turned with the palms up – well, the palms of the Glosssuit’s attached mittens, of course. Handcuffs were locked around her wrists. The handcuffs were connected with a bar, keeping her hands about 30 centimeters apart. A similar set of cuffs was attached around her elbows, so she could no longer bend her arms. A final spreader bar was attached between the bar keeping her hands apart and a belt that was attached around her hips. Although Raissa couldn’t see the way she was restricted, the end result was clear: she was forced to keep her arms stretched forward.

And moments laters it became clear why, as a tray was placed on her lower arms and hands. She could hear the tinkling of glasses and the talking of people approaching her and walking away again, and she realized she had been turned into an absurd version of a waitress.

The evening dragged by. Every now and then, the tray in her hands and the bar between her hands and her body were removed, allowing her arms to hang down in front of her. But every time they were placed in the same position after a while. Twice someone untied her outer hood and looked at her face; the first one was a man with a grey beard, dressed in a suit. He just looked at her eyes, the sweaty bit of her face inside the tightly tied orange hood that was visible inside the Glossuit's hood, and the straps of the gag around her nose. He didn't say anything, he just looked at her for a while and then shut the hood again.

The second time it was a woman in a tight black dress and elbow-length gloves. She smiled coolly at Raissa.

“Look at this little down slut,” she said. “Are you warm enough in there? I see you’re wearing another down jacket under your suit. That’s good, I wouldn’t want you to get cold.” She reached into the hood opening and brushed the bridge of Raissa’s nose with one gloved finger. “I think it’s time you get to move around a bit. Would you like to be untied?” Raissa made what little sound she could past her gag and hoods. “I don’t know if that was a yes or a no, but I’ll decide it was a yes.”

The woman tied Raissa’s hood shut again. Moments later Raissa felt her bonds being removed. Then she was led up a couple of stairs, apparently on some kind of platform. The people in the room became quiet. Then Raissa heard the voice of the woman with the black gloves. “Dear guests, thank you all for coming here tonight. I hope you’re having a good time. Our little down slut here, who has so nicely and quietly provided us with drinks tonight, will provide a little entertainment before she leaves. May I ask you all to move to the sides of the room and clear the middle?” There was the noise of movement and talking, then quiet again. “Thank you. Now, down slut.” Raissa’s outer hood was opened again. Raissa caught a glimpse of the room and the people in it, but the woman blocked most of her vision. She was holding up a white ping-pong ball. “I will throw this ball somewhere in the room. You will be free to leave as soon as you have found it.” Then the woman closed Raissa’s hood again, and helped her descend the steps of the platform.

“There you go. Find the ball and you can go home,” the woman said. For a moment, Raissa didn’t know what to do. Then she carefully went down on her knees and started crawling around the room, blindly groping with her mittened hands and hoping she would feel the light ball. The people were cheering and shouting advice, but whether they were helping her or leading her astray, Raissa didn’t know. Of course, it was entirely possible that they would move the ball if she came too close. But the crowd had fun. From the cheering she knew when she was close, but several times she apparently knocked the ball away instead of grabbing it. Eventually, they cheered loudly when she got the ball and stood up again.

After that, she was led out. Still blind, she knew from the sound of her Moonboots on gravel that she was outside. She heard the gate open and she was led through. Then her leash was removed and her hood was opened again. Raissa saw the rubber-clad, hobbled and ball-gagged maid close the gate and return towards the house.

Raissa made her way back to the bus stop, but judging from the lack of traffic, it was night already, so there would be no bus. Slowly, she started the long walk back to Francesca’s house, hoping Francesca would be free.

EPILOGUE

It had been near morning when Raissa had finally reached Francesca's house. Fran had been free. She said someone had removed the chains and let her out of the sleeping bag. A man had told her to wait for her friend Raissa, who was outside in her other Glosssuit. Then he had unlocked the Glosssuit. By the time she got it off, he was gone.

Now it was two weeks after Raissa’s fateful quest. Raissa was at Francesca’s place while Fran was having one of her ‘sessions’ again, tied up in her Glosssuit. She’d had no time for dinner so she went down in the basement, where the freezer stood, to look for a pizza. The basement was mostly dark. Only a single weak lightbulb at the roof illuminated it. Then something attracted her attention. In a corner of the basement lay a blanket, and a small bit of black nylon stuck out under it. It triggered something in Raissa’s mind. Frowning, she stared at it, wondering what it made her think of. Then she had a vivid memory of a person in a black down jacket in a badly lit room. She pulled the blanket away.

A black down jacket. A black balaclava. Black gloves.

And something even more remarkable: an inflatable doll, with a dictaphone taped to its head. Raissa pressed the play button and heard struggling noises and the sound of someone trying to speak while gagged. The truth dawned on her. The person in the black jacket was Francesca. She hadn’t been inside the bag – the doll had been there.

Raissa rushed upstairs to confront Francesca. Francesca, who lay there tied up in the Glosssuit…. She stopped. Wasn’t Francesca entirely at her mercy already? Couldn’t Raissa do what she wanted to her?

Raissa smiled, but it was a grim and humorless smile. It was time for Raissa’s Revenge.

Overview

Raissa's Quest (part 2)

-- read part 1 here --



"What do you want from me?" Raissa asked, her voice shaking with fear.

"Well, I have a little task for you. A quest, you could say." The metallic voice giggled.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then who knows how long you and Francesca will stay captured? I don't think you'll get out of your clothes easily now, do you? But there's more. While I was there, I've connected some little electronics to the thermostat in Francesca's house. I can now control it from where I am. I'm sure Francesca is warm enough in her closed down suit and sleeping bag right now. But at least the heating is off. I do wonder how she would feel if I turned it to the maximum though!"

"You can't do that! That's torture!" Raissa gasped.

The voice laughed again. "I'll give you one out of two there. I agree it's torture. But you're most certainly wrong about the other part. So, do I have your cooperation?"

"Just tell me what you want."

The voice directed her to a table where a map of the city and a bus ticket were placed. On the map a route was drawn towards a nearby bus station, the bus line she had to take, where she had to get off and where she had to go after that. Raissa pleaded with the voice - surely he couldn't mean for her to go outside like this, in public? But the voice became serious now, and threatened to turn up the heating if she didn't go on her way right now. And so it was that moments later, Raissa closed Francesca's door behind her and was on her way, on her unknown quest to free Francesca.

Raissa walked clumsily in her thick clothes and oversized Moonboots. Because the suit had attached feet, the Moonboots were several sizes too big. She wasn't used to wearing such huge shoes, and a couple of times she almost tripped. Raissa discovered she had to keep her feet well apart to make sure the Moonboots didn't touch, making her steps awkward. It was still quite early in the evening, so the streets weren't empty, and she felt very embarassed by the stares of other people. She steeled herself and told herself she did it all for Francesca. Whenever she felt like turning around and fleeing back towards the house, she thought of Francesca, chained up in a down suit without openings and a heavy sleeping bag. This way she managed to make it to the bus stop.

The bus ride was worse though. The bus was half full, and when Raissa sat down she heard the young couple behind her whisper and laugh. She tried to look out of the window to not have to see the people looking at her, but she was confronted with her own reflection and turned away again. Meanwhile she could feel sweat running over her back and her face. She was so hot already - she had no idea how Fran could stand this,  and even enjoy it.

Eventually she got to the stop that was marked on the map, and walked through another street as she had been directed. She was quite far from the city center now, in an area with large houses surrounded by spacious gardens. Everything was quiet, the streets were deserted - except... A figure in a bulky black down coat approached Raissa. Under the hood, a black balaclava with only a slit for the eyes was visible. But even the eyes were hidden by a sort of veil. 

Raissa's heart was beating heavily. This must be her captor. What would happen now? The person remained silent but made a motion with its gloved hand to indicate that Raissa should turn around. She did, and a moment later there was a click as the lock on the Glosssuit was opened. The hood was unzipped and pushed down. The person placed Raissa's hands on the Glosssuit's hood to indicate that she had to hold it down, then untied the orange down hood and put it down as well. From a pocket the figure produced a big red ball gag and showed it to Raissa. "No... no... I won't..." Raissa stammered. The silent person just shrugged, took a phone from its other pocket and showed Raissa a picture. She saw Francesca's bed, with the big sleeping bag still chained to it, but on top of it, a down blanket had been spread over her. Although she couldn't see anything of her captor's face, Raissa thought the figure was grinning as it looked at her reaction.

Did she have a choice, now that she had come this far? Raissa realized Francesca was still at the mercy of this unknown tormentor - and so was she. She obediently opened her mouth and the person gagged her, pulling at the straps that went around her head to the back, over the top of her head and under her chin, so that the red ball was firmly wedged into her mouth. After that the person put both hoods up again and locked the Glosssuit. The hoods were tied so that only a small slit for her eyes, hidden deep inside the hood of the Glosssuit, remained. Now Raissa was off even worse than before, as the person took her arm and walked her further along the empty street.

Finally they arrived at a closed gate, which presumably gave access to the terrain of one of the villas. The figure in the black coat took a final item from its pocket: a leash for dogs. Quickly it was attached to Raissa's neck, and then, to Raissa's amazement, the other end was tied to the bars of the gate. Then the person pushed the bell button at the side of the gate and immediately walked away! Raissa shouted in her gag, but little sound escaped her hoods. She was being left alone at the gate of a foreign house, gagged and locked into two layers of down, and this was how she was about to be found by the owners of the villa! Desperately she tried to unknot the leash, but with her hands in the thick mittens of the Glosssuit she couldn't manage it. And now somebody was approaching the other side of the gate...

-- on to part 3 --







Overview

Raissa's Quest (part 1)

"Raissa, could you just check my presentation before you finish up?" Raissa's colleague asked.
"I'm sorry, I really can't, I have an appointment, I have to leave right now."
"Oh, okay then. What kind of appointment?"
"Well, just visiting a friend really, but I don't want to be late..."

Raissa saw her colleague didn't understand why she needed to leave so urgently if she was just visiting a friend. But how could she explain? She could hardly tell him that her friend Francesca was into down clothes and self-bondage. That she had just acquired a new Parkasite Glosssuit and that she had planned to try it on today. That she had put a lock on the suit, and that she had given Raissa the key, so she could free her after work. That the new Glosssuit she had purchased was one with a completely closed hood, and that Raissa was a bit worried about her friend. Who knew how long ago she had locked herself in that suit? Francesca was a bit crazy when it came to her down clothes fetish. And knowing her, she had likely gagged herself underneath. But of course Raissa could tell her colleague none of that.

She drove straight to Francesca's house, all the while thinking about Fran's strange fetish. She understood Francesca couldn't help it, and that this was simply what she enjoyed, so Raissa supported her and helped her act out her fetish every now and then. But she was worried that one day, she would find Francesca had accidentally suffocated herself, or had some other accident. And for some reason, she had a bad feeling about today. Intuition - that rare sense only women possess.

Raissa had a spare key of Francesca's house, so she let herself in through the back door. The house seemed deserted - and cold. On the table stood a lonely laptop. A pair of orange down pants and an orange down jacket hung over a chair. Strange - why had she taken those out of the closet? She was going to wear her new Glosssuit. "Francesca?" she shouted, but there was no reply. For a moment, Raissa panicked, but she calmed herself. Most likely, Francesca was lying on her bed. After all, with the closed hood, she couldn't really walk around, especially since the whole suit was so thick she couldn't feel her way around. And it was cold because she had probably turned off the heating. There was no reply because she would have gagged herself. Nothing to worry about. She headed for Francesca's bedroom. Raissa opened the door and gasped.

On the bed was a large, black, overfilled down sleeping bag. Tight chains held the sleeping bag immobile on the bed. She rushed over and saw that they were locked in place. The hood of the sleeping bag was tightened and locked as well, but there was still enough of an opening to see the closed, red hood of Francesca's new Glosssuit inside. A faint "Mmf! Mmf!" could be heard inside the hood, but the bag was so tight and thick that no movement could be seen on the outside. "Francesca! What have you done now?" Raissa exclaimed, but then she immediately realized she was being stupid. Of course Francesca hadn't chained herself to the bed, that was impossible. But then who had?

Desperately, Raissa tried to move the chains, but they were so tight she couldn't move them a millimeter. Meanwhile Francesca kept making muffled noises, but Raissa couldn't help her. Then she saw the note near the top end of the bed. She picked it up. "GO SIT AT THE COMPUTER DOWNSTAIRS" it said. That was all. It must have been left by whoever chained Francesca up. Maybe the answer to this mystery could be found there? Raissa put her hand on Fran's well-wrapped head and said: "I'll get you out of this, Fran. Don't worry." She didn't know if Francesca had heard her though, as she kept making faint, desperated sounding noises. Raissa went downstairs and sat behind the laptop. She moved the mouse so the screen activated. A window was open, and Raissa saw it was a webcam chat session. The person on the other side was dressed in a black, shiny down jacket with the hood up. The room where the person sat was dark except for a single, faint light source somewhere above the person's head. This caused the person's head to be mostly in the shadow, but Raissa could see the person was also wearing a black balaclava. None of the person's features could be seen clearly; Raissa could not even tell if it was a man or a woman.

"Hello, Raissa," a metallic voice said. Raissa startled.
"You... you know my name?"
"As you hear."
"Who are you?"
"All you need to know is I met Francesca through an online community. She trusted me, and told me all about her fetish. Including that you sometimes help her. As you saw, she may have trusted me too much, and is now suffering the consequences."
"Why?" Raissa blurted out.
"Why?" The voice laughed softly. "Just for fun, really. I enjoyed tying her up like that."
"Please let her out. She's my best friend!"
"Hmm. So you say. But are you ready to prove that?"
"What do you mean?"
"I will let her out... if you cooperate. I want to have just a little fun with you, first. You're a beautiful young woman. I'd love to see you wear some nice down clothes. Perhaps you'd be so kind to put on the orange down pants and jacket I've placed on the chair next to you?"
"Okay, I will put them on... Will you free Francesca then?"
"We'll see, we'll see. Perhaps I'd like to see you wear some other items first. Come on, let's get started. The longer you wait, the longer Francesca suffers."

Raissa slid her legs through the orange down pants, standing in front of the laptop so the unknown person could see her. She fastened them around her waist and then took the matching jacket. She put her arms in and zipped it up to her chin. Then she sat down again.

"I do like to see a nice hood worn up, though," the voice insisted. Wordlessly, Raissa put the hood up.
"Come on, you can do better than that. Fasten the face flap, and tie it nice and tight so only your eyes are showing." Raissa obeyed. The thick hood now enveloped her completely except for her dark brown eyes peering through the slit.
"Nice, I like that. Now just one more thing. I'd like to see you wear Francesca's Glosssuit. Not the one she's wearing right now, of course - that would be impossible." The voice giggled at its own wit. "But I'm sure you know Francesca has another Glosssuit. The light blue one. It's in the closet, you probably know where. And while you're at it, put on the dark blue Moonboots that stand under it. They belong together, I think, since the Moonboots are extra big so the attached feet of the Glosssuit fit inside."

So again, Raissa did as the voice said. She knew Francesca's Glosssuit of course; she had seen her wear it often enough. This one had a "normal" opening for the hood, except that the hood couldn't be taken down. Many times she had come her after work to help Francesca out of that suit. Francesca had attached a little ring at the top of the hood, with a padlock on it. When the suit was zipped up, she could lead the zipper through the lock and then push it shut. Then it could only be opened with the key, which on these occasions she had given to Raissa in advance. This time, she had done the same with the red suit; except now of course her key was useless because Francesca was tied up in a sleeping bag. Now, it was Raissa who was putting on the Glosssuit. But with another layer underneath, it wasn't easy. She managed to get her feet in the attached booties, then she put them in the large Moonboots. She tightened the drawcords of the Moonboots so they would stay on. Then she led her hand into the suit's mittens. The zip had a rope attached to it so she could pull it up behind her. Then she put the hood over her face and zipped it up the rest of the way. The hood opening was quite narrow, but because the orange hood underneath was tied so tight, a good part of that hood could still be seen.

"Marvelous!" the voice admired. "Now the very last thing I will ask of you. Then I will let Francesca out of the bag. Close the lock at the top of the hood, so you can't unzip the suit anymore."
"What? No! How can I get out then?" Raissa said, her voice muffled by the hoods.
"I'll let you out right after I let Francesca out of her bag. Come on, I just want to see it locked. It would be so exciting for me."
"But how will I know you'll let me out?"
"Just have a little faith. I mean you no harm, I just want a bit of fun. Close the lock, and then we'll end this. Turn the back of your head to the screen, and I'll guide your hands to help you."

With the help of the person's instructions, she managed to find the zipper and the lock and get the lock closed. 

"There. All done. Will you let Francesca go now?" Raissa pleaded.
The metallic voice laughed. "I told you Francesca trusted me too much. And now you do the same! You're just as trapped as she is now. Oh, I'll let you both out, don't worry. Eventually. But I'll have my fun first. We're just getting started!"


-- on to part 2 --







Overview

My life changed (part 2)

-- read part 1 here --



On a Saturday in December, I visited Mariella for the first time, along with Jane of course. Mariella was Jane's best friend, and Jane liked to show me off to her. During breaks at school, Jane would sometimes call me over to where she and Mariella stood, and tie my hood completely shut. She would then say: "You'll stay like this until the end of lunch break. If you even touch the drawstrings, I'll tell mum you took your hood off." And to Mariella: "You see, I can make her do whatever I want. If she doesn't obey, I'll tell mum to punish her. Isn't my new 'sister' lovely?" And then they'd walk away, leaving me blind until finally the bell rang and I could open my hood. I knew Mariella was fascinated by this, but I had no idea what she was up to that Saturday.

I was wearing my winter clothes by then: white ski pants, red Moonboots, a thick knee-length red down jacket (hood up and tied, of course - I was never allowed outside anymore without my sweatshirt hood and jacket hood both up and tied), white heavy mittens, and a long white scarf. The scarf had been Jane's idea; she had suggested to Cyrilla that I had to tie it tightly over my lower face at all times. This way I couldn't speak, which further isolated me at school. Before all this, I'd had a lot of friends. At first they had wondered why I started wearing a hood all the time, but not much had changed. But Jane did her best to make me stand out more and more, and since I had to wear the scarf I was soon ignored by most of my classmates. After all, who wants to hang out with someone who doesn't speak, and who starts to dress really weird? I really stood out wearing Moonboots in dry weather well above the freezing point, and my down jacket was so big, bright and shiny. And then there was the hood of course, always worn up, always bound tight, turning my head into a big red watermelon on top of my fluffy body.

And what could I do about it? I dared not argue with Cyrilla again, or refuse her. Nor did I talk to anyone about it. One day, Cyrilla had showed me pictures of what she called a 'Glosssuit'. She said if I told anyone that my way of dressing wasn't my own choice, she'd buy two Glosssuits for me. One to wear outside, and another one which I'd wear at home. Except the second one would have no hood opening at all, and I'd have to wear it night and day while home. I was horrified. So I saw no other way than to obey Cyrilla and Jane without comment, whatever they told me to do. As time went on, people got more used to me just being weird and left me alone. I was too ashamed to search much contact myself, and I had to wear my scarf during break times, so I soon became a social outcast at school. This of course made it even more impossible to talk to someone about my situation, if I had found the courage to do so.

So that Saturday, right after lunch, we visited Mariella, whose parents weren't home that day. I knew we were going to sleep at Mariella's, and go home on Sunday morning, but I had no idea what they intended to do. But whatever they had planned, Jane seemed very excited about it, and apparently so was Mariella. As she opened the door, she had a big grin on her face. "Hi Jane," she said brightly, "come in quickly! I can't wait to get started!" Jane walked in and started taking off her jacket, but she told me to keep everything on.

"Jane, I've bought something for Nina. You'll love it. One moment, I'll go grab it!" Mariella dashed upstairs to her room, and came back seconds later, showing Jane something made of black rubber with a long tube. "It's a pumpable gag," Mariella beamed. "Let's try it out right away." She took off my scarf and the hood of my jacket. "Open your mouth, Nina," she commanded. I was afraid of the gag but dared not disobey her. I opened my mouth and she put the gag in. "Okay. Now close it again." While I stood there nervously with the rubber thing in my mouth and the long tube sticking out of it, Mariella tore long strips off a roller of heavy black adhesive tape she'd also brought. With a knife, she carefully cut a hole in the middle of each strip. Then she placed each strip over my mouth, pulling the tube through the hole in the strips, then wrapping the strips of tape snugly around my cheeks and sweatshirt hood, covering my head all the way around. When she was satisfied I wouldn't be able to open my mouth anymore, she attached a little hand pump to the end of the tube and started pumping. Soon my cheeks were hurting, and I flailed wildly with my arms to make her stop, but she only did when my mouth was filled completely and my cheeks were bulging out under the tape. Then she removed the tube and put my hood up again, tying it tight with only my eyes and a bit of my nose showing, so nobody could see the tape. Finally she wrapped my scarf around me again.

Mariella and Jane looked at me in fascination, as I stood there mutely, breathing deeply through my nose. I desperately tried to find a way to make the gag in my mouth more comfortable, but it filled my mouth completely, and the tape further immobilised my face, so I was helpless to do anything about it. Then Mariella tied some short ropes around each of my wrists, outside my mittens, so I couldn't remove them anymore. She also tied the drawstring at the hem of my coat tighter, so I had to take smaller steps.

When all was ready, Mariella and Jane took me out into town. They dragged me into one shop after another, where I had to stand around uselessly, while people commented on my outfit. "Eskimo," some guy taunted right behind me, and "God, it's freezing in here, isn't it?" I heard a woman say. But most people just looked at me, although now and then someone burst out in laughter at the surprise of seeing me like that. I felt humiliated, and Jane and Mariella did nothing to improve my situation. Sometimes they ordered me to walk back and forth through a shop, sometimes they simply ignored me, sometimes they said things like "Nina, why don't you take your hood off? It's really not cold inside!" in a loud voice so people would hear.

Later that afternoon, they took me to the movies. It was even warmer there, and the gag made my mouth dry, but I could only look while Mariella and Jane bought large cups of ice-cold coke for themselves and left me to sweat it out. As soon as the lights went out, Jane closed my hood completely so I wouldn't even have the movie to divert my mind. Blind, and with the sound muffled by my hoods, it was impossible to follow the story, so I just sat there for two long hours, with sweat dripping inside my clothes and my jaws aching.

At last, we went back to Mariella's, and Mariella took off my mittens. I thought they would let me out now, but I was wrong. They told me I could go to the toilet, but I had to keep my jacket on and the hood up, and I couldn't take longer than necessary. When I was done they put me back into my mittens and tied them in place again. Then they took me upstairs, where Mariella spread a large down-filled sleeping bag on a bed. "You'll get to rest a few hours now, Nina," she said, while she put me into the bag and zipped it up, "you must be tired after this afternoon, and you'll need your strength for the big finale tonight. Meanwhile, we'll have pizza. We'll see you in a couple of hours!" With that, she closed my jacket hood and the hood of the sleeping bag, leaving me in darkness, wondering what else they could have planned for me.

---

I woke up when my hoods were opened again. Had I really slept? It seemed impossible, especially with the gag hurting my cheeks, but apparently I had. I blinked groggily at the light. Mariella helped me out of the sleeping bag and herded me downstairs. There she removed my jacket hood and, mercifully, the gag. Then she took off my mittens as well and gave me a large bowl of soup. "Your dinner," she said. "Hurry up, we want to leave soon. Jane is just finishing her make-up." Now I noticed Mariella had also put on some make-up and was wearing a pretty dress. I didn't say anything though and started spooning up the soup. It was hot, but I was hungry and thirsty so I quickly ate it all. By then, Jane had entered, with a layer of make-up on her face (I told you about the acne). When I finished my meal, they told me to put on my hood and mittens again, and I quickly did so, glad that I didn't have to wear the gag anymore. They also didn't bother with my scarf.

Mariella told me to go outside and call them when the taxi arrived. Once it did, they took their time coming out of the house, but eventually we all got in the back of the cab. Jane and Mariella both wore skimpy dresses with a short, fur-lined jacket on top. I sat between them, still in Moonboots, ski pants, mittens and the huge jacket with the hood up. We went to a club, and at the entrance they both took off their short jackets but I had to keep mine on. Once inside, they allowed me to take off my hood and mittens and unzip my jacket, but I had to keep my sweatshirt hood up. Wearing a hood, the large jacket, the ski pants and the Moonboots, I still stood out from the crowd. They told me I had to dance for them. It was ridiculous, especially because of the Moonboots, which made dancing pretty much impossible, but I had to do it all the same. Meanwhile they were flirting with some guys, but they didn't forget to urge me on if they thought I was slacking. Every now and then they allowed me a break and gave me some money to get myself a drink. Obviously the guys at the bar had seen my ridiculous dance in Moonboots, and I was still wearing my jacket and my sweatshirt hood, but I was so thirsty I didn't care much. The breaks were short though, and I was soon exhausted.

At some point, Jane called me over to where she was sitting in a guy's lap. "This is Nina. And she has to do whatever I say," she giggled. I could tell she was getting a bit drunk. "Bend over, Nina, and let us see how sweaty you are." I did, and Jane felt at my hood, which was soaked with sweat. "I told her to dance, so she has to do that. And she has to dress like that," Jane smiled. The guy seemed impressed. "Wow. You made her dress like that? She must be so warm in that!" Jane grinned at him. "This is nothing. Watch this." She turned to me and said: "Nina, you've had enough rest now. Tie your sweatshirt hood tighter, then zip up your jacket, put your hood up and tie it tight. Put your mittens back on and start dancing again immediately." In front of the amazed boy, I executed her orders, tying my hoods so tight only my eyes were showing.

Half an hour later, I was simply to tired to dance anymore. I had lost track of Jane and Mariella too. I stumbled across the dancefloor and found a place to sit. Jane and Mariella were nowhere to be seen, so I would rest for just a minute, then I'd start dancing again. Suddenly a guy was sitting next to me. "Hi, I've been looking at you the whole evening. You look stunning in that jacket. Can I get you a drink?" Although I was very thirsty, I refused. I dared not open my hood enough to drink without Jane's permission. I was also weary of the guy's intentions - who could think I looked stunning like this? I thought he was mocking me. But he remained friendly and talked some more and eventually I realized he was actually honest. How he could like me in these clothes I didn't know, but it seemed true.

And then Jane and Mariella appeared. "What do you think you're doing?" Jane shouted. "We're going home right now. Mum will hear of this!"

Five minutes later we were in a cab going back to Mariella's. It turned out that both their guys had dumped them, and they were very angry with me for apparently having found a guy. And of course, I had stopped dancing without Jane's permission. Back home, they put me in my sleeping bag again, and tied my hoods shut. "Just wait till tomorrow," Jane said once more, "I'll tell mum how naughty you've been. I can't wait to see what she'll do to you!"



Overview

My life changed (part 1)

My life changed shortly after my seventeenth birthday. That's when my new mother, Cyrilla, and her daughter Jane moved in. Jane was of my age, and I suppose that under different circumstances, we might have ended up as good friends, as sisters perhaps, and I'm sure that's what dad had in mind. A new, happy family. Unfortunately, that's not how it went for me.

But let me start from the beginning. I'd lived together with my dad for thirteen years at that point. I was an only child, and my mother died in a car accident when I was young. It was probably not the happiest childhood one could imagine; my dad was always a taciturn man, and more so after mum's death. Still, he took good care of me and I lacked for nothing. Then at some point he met Cyrilla, and things started changing. At first, the changes seemed good; he smiled more and seemed more energetic. So I was happy for him. But after I met Cyrilla a few times, I started realizing she didn't like me much. She never openly showed it, and acted friendly enough, so it was hard to pinpoint why exactly I knew she disliked me - but I knew it was true. To be honest, I wasn't even sure she loved dad, and secretly suspected she wanted my dad for his money, although I'm not certain of this. Dad has a high position in his company and earns a high salary, which over the years has accumulated to us being quite wealthy. Anyway, dad was head over heels in love with Cyrilla, so talking to him about it was pointless - he would never believe a bad word about her. As for Jane, I can only conclude that she was simply jealous of me. And if you think about it, it wasn't that unreasonable. I don't want to brag, really, but the fact is that I 'had it all': I was attractive, intelligent and rich (at least, my dad was rich). Jane isn't ugly, exactly, but neither is she attractive; and at the time she suffered a lot from acne, which didn't help.

So as I said, Cyrilla and Jane came to live with us. I wasn't really happy about it, but there was nothing I could do or say to dissuade dad. Maybe I would have tried harder if I knew just how my life was going to change, but I doubt it would have made a difference. Anyway, it happened as it did, and I now had a new 'mother'. Cyrilla insists that I call her 'mum', but in my mind she'll always be Cyrilla. But that's not the only thing she's adamant on. From day one she also interfered with my clothes. I liked wearing dresses that accentuated my good looks, but she would have none of it. She claimed I had to be more modest, and that I was also not appropriately dressed for the weather. It was September at the time, so it wasn't exactly cold, but from then on I had to wear long, baggy pants with a long-sleeved shirt and a thick, hooded sweatshirt over the top, thus obscuring most of my pretty body. And every excuse was good to have me wear the hood of my sweater - whenever it was a bit cool, or cloudy, or windy, Cyrilla would tell me to wear my hood. But that wasn't all: she had a strict rule that every time I wore my hood, it had to be tied around my face. A tied hood looks ridiculous, and I'm sure that was her intention. Jane and I went to the same school and walked together every day, so there was no way I could take my hood off without Cyrilla knowing. Even during breaks at school I had to wear my hood up every time, with Jane watching me like a hawk and checking if it was tight enough. I complained to dad, of course, but it was pointless. It seemed as if dad had completely lost his wits, at least on the subject of Cyrilla.

After a week Cyrilla took me shopping, because I needed more 'appropriate' clothes. We were out the entire afternoon, with Cyrilla bossing me around, telling me what to try on, and deciding what to buy. With my dad's credit card, of course. But there was nothing I could do about it; I protested often, but she just brushed off my protests in her sweet, soothing voice (how I hate that voice) while making it clear that if my dad got involved, he would side with her. Although the day was bright and sunny, she made me wear my hood the whole time, even while inside the shops. I only got to take it off when trying on another sweatshirt - of which I then had to put the hood up immediately, every time. After we had acquired enough sweatshirts, Cyrilla said I needed a proper raincoat as well. Eventually she found something to her liking (but not mine!): a raincoat, rain pants, and rubber boots, all in bright yellow. She made me put everything on right there, and put the hood up and tie it, of course. When I had everything on, she walked me over to a mirror and said, again in her horribly sweet voice: "Don't you look nice in that, dear? You'll be so well protected from the rain. From now on, you'll get to wear this outfit on every rainy day, Nina. And you'll get to keep it on the whole day. Because every time I tell you what to wear, you stay like that the whole day. Every break, every time you're outside. So even if it's not raining, if I tell you to wear your rainclothes, you'll wear them the whole day. Understood, missy?"

Aghast, I stared at my own reflection. This was just too much for me. I looked ridiculous, like a five year old kid dressed up for the rain. I untied the tapes of the hood and took it down. "I'm not gonna wear this," I shouted angrily, as I took off the raincoat and threw it on the floor. "Forget it. Not in a million years!" Cyrilla calmly looked on as I kicked off the rubber boots and pulled the rainpants off. "Oh no?" she said with her friendly smile. "I'll make you an offer, Nina. Either you take those clothes to the counter like a good little girl, so I can pay them, and then we go home. Or you keep throwing a tantrum, and then we'll also buy those rainclothes, but you'll get to wear them the rest of the day. Which is it gonna be?" Wear those rainclothes? With this nice weather? "You're crazy," I hissed, and turned away to stalk out of the shop. I didn't get far. After I took two steps she grabbed my arm and forced me to face her. "Now think very well on what you're going to do or say, missy. I can do whatever I want, and you know it. I can cut your allowance. I can ground you for a month, or longer. While denying you access to computer or television. Woud you enjoy that? If I tell your father you're to be punished, he'll believe me. I could make up whatever story I wanted, and he'd accept it. You know it's true, don't you? Or do you want to find out the hard way?"

I stared at her evil, smiling face, and my anger ebbed away. Only now did I realize how dangerous Cyrilla was. She was right. She could do any of those things. She could make my life hell. Just imagine, every single day not getting to do anything other than going to school. No free time, ever. No computer or television to divert my mind. She could do it. I had never felt so utterly defeated, and she saw it in my eyes. Her grin widened, and in a voice dripping with honey, she said: "Now dear, why don't you pick up your rainclothes, and we'll go up to the cashier. Then after that, you can put on your lovely new rainclothes right away, you lucky girl." And so it happened. My mind blank, I picked up the clothes and carried them to the counter. "Don't put them in a bag, please. Nina wants to wear her new clothes," Cyrilla said, and as soon as the rain pants were checked she handed them to me. Without a word, I put them on, followed by the rubber boots. Finally I donned my yellow raincoat, put the hood up and tied it over my sweatshirt hood. The cashier could only stare at me open-mouthed, but said nothing.

Of course, we didn't go straight home after that. Cyrilla walked me in and out of some more shops, although she bought nothing else. Finally we had a drink on a terrace out in the sun. The whole time, people were staring at me and commenting on my outfit, as though I was no longer a person who could hear them, but just a curiosity, an odd-looking object. While we were having our drink, Cyrilla told me: "You see, you don't like it when I have to punish you. Let this be a lesson for you. You will never refute me or argue against me again. The only thing you'll accomplish is punishment. You also won't complain to your father about this ever again. You wouldn't sway him anyway, but I don't want you nagging him all the time. If I hear you've been talking to him about me or the way I treat you, you'll be punished much harder than today - harder than you can imagine. In fact, if you complain against anyone, you can expect the same punishment. A teacher, a friend - it doesn't matter. If I ever find out you tell people that you don't like how I treat you, you'll be very sorry. If anyone wonders about your change in clothing style, you'll pretend it's your own choice and you're happy about it. Have I made myself clear?"

Dejectedly, I nodded. I felt like a trapped mouse.
"Say 'Yes, Mum'," Cyrilla urged.
"Yes, Mum."
Smiling, Cyrilla leaned back in her chair.



-- on to part 2 --







Overview

The Silver Dream

It's Saturday at last. I have nothing to do so I can finally do what I've been longing to do all week: enjoying my love of warm winter clothes. Since five days it's been freezing, and there's a thick layer of snow on the streets. I look forward to walking outside, dressed up in layers of clothing, and watching what other people are wearing and what's available in the shops. I know I'm a bit weird in that aspect, but I just can't help myself.

So I waste no time and start getting dressed. Underwear, shirt, trousers,... that's the boring part. It only really begins when I put on my sweatshirt: a nice grey sweatshirt with a cozy hood which I immediately put up and tie around my head. On my legs I put a pair of ski pants, white like the snow outside. Beautiful and warm. And Moonboots on my feet to top it off. They are shiny black, with white printing, and so large and thick and stiff they make walking a bit harder. But I don't mind, because they keep my feet hot no matter the conditions outside. Next I put on my black down jacket and tie the hood until it covers the sweatshirt hood. And then on top of that, my other down jacket, which is light blue and comes down almost to my knees. I tie this hood so tight only my eyes and a bit of my nose are showing, so that nobody can see the hoods I'm wearing underneath. I finish my outfit with two pairs of mittens: one in thick white wool, the next in black waterproof nylon but with a warm fleece lining. Ready to go!

I spend the whole morning walking around, observing the other people, and checking out the stores to see more winter clothes. I'm not intending to buy anything; I can't afford to buy stuff on a whim. But then I come across such a beautiful down jacket which tempts me very much. It's silver in colour, knee length, incredibly thick, and the material feels quite stiff to the touch. Best of all, the hood is extremely large. Fascinated, I take the jacket of its hanger and study it intently.

"Beautiful coat, isn't it?" a voice says beside me. I'm startled, I didn't see the shop assistant approach me, focussed on the jacket as I was. "Oh yes, definitely," I say truthfully, once I've recovered, "it looks wonderful." "Would you like to try it on?" the shop assistant asks with a friendly smile. I hesitate. I'm acutely aware of how I'm dressed. I've taken down my hoods inside, but they form a pile behind my head. The inner down jacket isn't visible to the casual observer, as it's hidden between the sweatshirt hood and the outer down jacket, but it does make my hood look overly large. I've stuffed both pairs of mittens in the pockets of my down jacket, but they stick out a bit (as my wallet and house keys are also in these pockets) and add to my bulky look. I wasn't planning to try anything on, as I don't want to reveal the fact that I'm wearing two thick down jackets.

On the other hand, I've just said that I like the jacket, and I can't really think of an excuse why I wouldn't try it on. And I really would like to wear it. It's the most attractive jacket I've ever held. The shop assistant probably noticed my doubt, and she gently takes the jacket, saying: "Here, let me hold this for you, so you can take your coat off." Now I can find no way out, so I unzip my light blue jacket and take it off.

"Oh, you are wearing two coats," the assistant exclaims, "that's quite smart actually, with the freezing cold outside. And when you came in, I saw you wearing the hoods all up. With the sweatshirt hood as well, that makes three hoods. I guess they kept you warm and snug, didn't they?" I blush, I wish she didn't talk about my clothes like that, although she says it all in a friendly way, not mocking. I do wish she didn't talk so loud, though. I try not to let my embarrassment show too much and say: "Yes, they did." Meanwhile I take off the black down jacket as well. The shop assistant takes both jackets and hangs them over the rack.

"Well if you like thick down jackets, you'll love this one," she says, while she holds it open for me. I obediently put my arms in and she wheels to the front and does the zip up for me. Before doing it all the way up, she takes my sweatshirt hood and pulls it over my head, then she does the same with the silver down hood. "If you're going to wear the hood, you should try the hood before you buy it. You wear your hoods tied, yes?" she asks. She has apparently seen me when I entered, so I am forced to mumble a "yes" to that question, but she doesn't really wait for that. She is already tying my sweatshirt hood snugly around my face, and then she does the same with the silver hood.

"Beautiful!" she says when she has finished. She turns me towards a mirror. "I bet this jacket can keep you as warm as the two you were wearing! Do you like it?" "Yes, I do," I say, because it's true. The down jacket is great, and I strongly consider buying it, even though it isn't cheap. The shop assistant starts undoing the hood strings again. "Now you should try it with the other coat underneath," she says. "If you're going to wear it on top of the other one, you need to know if it fits." In no time her quick hands have unzipped the jacket again and taken it off. Now she holds out my black down jacket for me. I can't really think of something to say, and I kind of want to try the silver jacket on top of my other one, so I let her put it on me. Immediately she puts the hood up, on top of my still tied sweatshirt hood, and ties this one as well, just like I had earlier.

Then she takes the silver jacket again. But before I can put my arm in, she has another idea. "Oh! Perhaps you should try three jackets! That way you'll be even warmer. It would be good to know if this coat fits over both your jackets!" And without asking she puts the silver one away again and holds out my light blue jacket instead. I am a bit hesitant: "I don't know... I've never worn three jackets. Won't that be too bulky?" "There's only one way to find out," she says, and now she pulls the sleeve over my arm. Soon I am in my second down jacket, and she ties my hood as tight as I had, so the hood underneath doesn't show. She sees the mittens sticking out of my pockets and takes them out. "Two pairs of mittens as well! You were well prepared for the cold. You should put them on as well, so you will be in your full outfit. With your Moonboots and ski pants as well, you are perfectly protected!" She helps me into both pairs of mittens and then turns to pick up the silver down jacket.

"Now for the big one," she says with enthusiasm. As my arms are stuffed into the sleeves of the silver jacket, I'm starting to wonder if this is a good idea. My arms are so bulky already I don't think they'll fit in. "This won't work," I say, but she ignores me and simply pulls harder. And slowly my arms slide through the sleeves. "Don't worry, I'll get you in it," she says. When my whole arm is in it, only the top of my mittened hand pokes out of the sleeve. She repeats this with my other arm. "There, that was easy, no? Now we can zip it up." She bends down to my knees and connects the zipper. "Hmm, your light blue jacket is slightly longer unfortunately, that doesn't look so nice. But I can stuff it under this one, I'll just need to tighten this a bit. Can you put your feet together?" I obey, putting my feet as close together as the Moonboots will allow. I feel how the drawstring at the bottom of the silver coat is tightened just above my knees. Then she zips it up further. And then everything goes fast: she zips up the jacket, puts the hood up and ties it shut almost completely. There's only a tiny gap in front of my eyes, a slit only a couple of centimeters wide and high.

"All done! Now what do you think?" I look at the mirror again. This time I just see a fat figure in a silver down jacket and blue Moonboots. The arms stand to the sides a bit, with just the top of the black nylon mittens showing at the end of the arms. But on top of the silver figure is an enormous head, like a silver, fluffy cannonball. In front is just a little dark opening, but nothing can be seen of the person inside. I try to say something but no sound comes out; the three collars are too tight over my mouth to allow speech, and the three down hoods muffle the little volume I can produce. "So would you like to buy it?" the shop assitant asks. But how can I reply? I can't speak and I can't even nod or shake my head, which is immobile under all those hoods!

"Come," she says. She takes me by the arm and walks me through the shop. What is her plan? I don't know, but there's nothing I can do about it. The drawstring around my knees restricts my steps so I shuffle along beside her. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of other customers staring at me with their mouths open. Soon I have no idea where I am, as my lack of vision has disoriented me. But suddenly I see the store entrance ahead of me.

"Here's my offer," she says. "You can try out the coat for a while. See, I have your wallet and keys here - they fell out of your jacket when I took the mittens out. But don't worry, I'll keep them safely with me. This way I can be sure that you'll return, since you need to pay for the jacket if you wish to keep it. So have a walk around, and decide whether you want to buy the jacket, then come back to me. All right?"

She takes a look at her watch. "It's five to twelve, my shift ends in five minutes," she says, "and I've taken a few hours off this afternoon so I won't be here at first. I'll be here from 4 till 6 though, so just come back during that time. Meanwhile, you can enjoy the coat. See you!"

And with that she's gone. I shuffle out onto the street, knowing that at least for the next four hours, I won't be able to escape my padded prison. And I can't help wondering: once I get back at 4 o'clock, will she let me out then?

Overview