The Tale of Charity Clayhanger

Emily sits in her chair and remembers vividly the day when her life changed irrevocably. She was sitting in the kitchen of their humble family home in London with her mother and brother when there was a knock at the door. Her mother rose and answered it. Seconds later a policeman appeared in the room. “I am very sorry to have to tell you this,” he announced, “But Mr. Carter was killed today in a motor accident near to Kings Cross railway station.” Immediately her mother broke down in tears, having lost the man she loved so much. She too would have broken down in despair if she’d known just what consequences this would have.

The funeral was a simple affair for the Carters were not a rich family. Samuel had been a delivery driver for a local furniture company whilst her mother worked as a maid in a large house nearby. Her brother was still at school but she had finished two years before and was now working in a factory. Like I said, they were not rich, but what none of them had realised was just how poor they were. That however, was made clear after the funeral in the office of J. P. Dickson and Associates Solicitor.

“Your husband was deeply in debt, Mrs. Carter, to his boss, Mr. Cartwright. He owed thousands, far more than you can ever hope to pay off with your jobs. He had a gambling problem it seems. Effectively now, under British Law, all his property belongs to Mr. Cartwright and of course, when I say property, that means you all too, for females, as we know, in this country are owned by their protecting male, whilst you Master James, are still a minor. Your fate, I am afraid, is in Mr. Cartwright’s hands.”

Mr. Cartwright was the owner of the furniture store which Emily’s father had driven for. They had only met him on a few occasions and barely knew him, but their new guardian was a man in his sixties of some limited means, owning two shops and three lorries. After the reading of the Will, they took a taxi to the store and were invited into his office. As he heard the situation he sat back, closed his eyes and nodded. “Well, well,” he said, “I tried to help your father – he was a very good worker for me – but that weakness with the horses… What can I do? What can I do? The fact is, I needed the stipend he was paying me to pay my own debts off and so… I need to make some kind of money from you all? But how?”

“Both Emily and I work, sir, and James is about to finish school,” said Mrs. Carter.

“What are you like in your studies boy?”

“I come top of the class and do well in exams, sir,” replied James and it was true, for unlike Emily he had always excelled at school.

“Hmm… and what work do you ladies do?”

“I am a maid and Emily here works at Cavendish Biscuits.”

“Well, I’ll never make my fortune from either of you two will I and yet… yet you are a handsome lady Mrs. Carter; how say you to marrying again?”

“Sir, my husband is not yet cold in his grave so it is hard to say, but I shall do what I must for my family’s honour.”

“And you Emily?”

“It is an honour I dream of but no man so far…”

He looked her up and down. Emily Carter was a plain girl with mousey hair and freckles and rather dull grey eyes. Not a looker by any standards, nor was that compensated for by great intelligence. However, she did have spirit, a fire that raged in those grey eyes. Fire however, does not put bread on the table and Cartwright was not surprised that no man had chosen her yet.

“But you are still a virgin…?”

Emily was quiet for a moment, looked at the floor and then muttered, “Sir, I am afraid not. At school, a boy… it was a terrible mistake…”

“Well, this gets worse and worse; a plain girl, no longer a virgin and with no great intelligence. The only conceivable way I get regain my investments is in finding a good match for you but how am I to do that?”

No answer came; silence reigned. Emily was ashamed of her eagerness to lie with Johnny Baxter, ashamed of her stupidity and ashamed that she was so ugly compared to her beautiful mama. She was a failure who was helping bring her family into ruin.

“And yet… maybe, just maybe not… Hmm… I must see. Mrs. Carter, may I have an appointment with you tomorrow afternoon at three?”

“Yes sir, certainly.”

“Fine then, good day to you and my condolences for your loss. He was a good man, a good worker for me. He shall be sorely missed by us all.”

The next day Emily returned home from her work at Cavendish’s to find her mother and brother sat by the kitchen fire. As she opened the door they looked up and her mother gestured her over. “Emmie, sit down dear, I have something to talk to you about.”

“Is it about your meeting with Mr. Cartwright?”

“Yes dear, it is, and I need to hear what you have to say for it is quite unexpected yet could be a great blessing for this family. I went there today at three as requested and he invited me in and then asked first of all if James could work for him as soon as he finishes school. He is looking for a new accounting manager and is prepared to pay a handsome wage which will go some way towards clearing our debts. I was very grateful and about to thank him when he bade me listen more. He then said that he had a proposal for me also. He said that a beautiful woman like me should not be slaving away as a maid but instead should be looked after and after our visit yesterday he had been captivated by me and thus wished, as soon as the mourning period is over, for me to become his wife!”

“Really? What did you say?”

“Well, I was stunned; what could I say? But he is prepared to pay a handsome fee, far in excess of what a middle-aged widow could normally expect and our family’s needs must come first, so I said yes. He did however, have one stipulation.”

“What was that?”

“That he could have sole legal responsibility for your future, Emily. In the marriage contract it will be written that he decides your match, not us. He wants to recoup some of his investments by matching you with a good and rich man but he says that to do that you need more education, in order to become more ladylike and so on. You are not a natural beauty Emmie, but your inner beauty, your good kind heart and hard work shine through and he feels you could make an excellent wife for some lucky man. First though, he intends that you attend a finishing school for young ladies for six months or so. Those were the conditions he gave but I would not agree, for both your dear father and I always said that your fate should be your own when it comes to your heart. I told him that you yourself must agree and he understood and said that I have until Sunday to make my mind up otherwise the offer is withdrawn. So Emmie, the choice is yours; will you let Mr. Cartwright decide your fate?”

“Mama, the chance to save my family, marry well and receive a lady’s education! How could I refuse?”

“Oh Emmie, you are a pet! You have saved your dear family from ruin, of that I am sure!”

Three months after that conversation, they were all sat in the large townhouse of Elijah Cartwright. Mrs. Carter was now Mrs. Cartwright and James was now his accounting manager. Emily, dressed in a pretty blue dress with a crinoline four feet in width – she had never worn a proper steel cage before, let alone a corset, was sat across from them. Elijah was smiling. “Well, my dear daughter, this is your last day with us until you start your new school. St.Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies is an excellent institution with a good reputation for taking ladies of a lower class background and transforming them into fine wives for gentlemen. I hope you enjoy your time there and your marriage afterwards which I am in the process now of arranging and which will, I hope, see your family free of debt so that your brother will be able to start his own family free of any obligations to me.”

“Sir, I shall enjoy my time there I am sure and thank you, thank you for all you have done for us.”

“It is nothing my dear daughter,” he replied with a strange smile.

St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies was a large brick house situated near to the centre of Chiswick. Emily arrived accompanied by Elijah Cartwright who knocked on the door so that she did not need to remove her hands from her muff. After a few seconds a maid answered and after he had introduced himself, they were shown in to an office where there was a schoolmistress waiting. She smiled, greeted him and then said that he need stay no longer as Miss Carter was their responsibility now. Elijah kissed his stepdaughter on the cheek and the door shut behind him leaving her alone with the schoolmistress and the maid.

“Right Miss Carter, welcome to St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies. I hope you enjoy your time here and emerge as a fine, submissive and suitable wife for your husband-to-be. Here at St. Werburgh’s we have very strict rules regarding uniform and appearance and before you can proceed any further we need you to be prepared. Follow me!”

Emily followed her out of the room, down a corridor and into another room where a large hot bath was waiting. “Strip!” ordered the schoolmistress. Although uneasy at getting naked in front of others, she did as she was bid, asking the maid to help unlace her 25 inch corset. Then she got in the bath and washed herself all over whilst the two ladies watched. After five minutes, the maid held out a towel so she removed herself from the water and allowed herself to be dried before she was then led to a bench on which she was told to lie. “Cleanliness and hygiene are very important here at St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies,” intoned the schoolmistress, “and I see you are not shaved below. The maid shall prepare you now.” To he horror, Emily saw the maid approach with a razor and cream and her private areas, arms, underarms and legs were all shaved. The foam burnt a little but when the maid expertly shaved around her vagina it strangely excited her causing improper juices to flow and her face to blush with shame although thankfully this was not commented on by either woman. When all that was done, she sat up and thought the whole embarrassing ordeal was over but to her surprise the maid then produced a pair of shears and attacked her head, cutting her hair as short as she could and then using the cream and razor again so that she was as smooth and bald as an egg. “But why cut my hair?” she asked in confusion.

“It is not needed as you will soon learn. We utilise rather unorthodox methods here at St. Werburgh’s but you are not to question them. Now, please come to this mat here and crouch down on all fours. What will happen to you now may seem a little shocking but again I can assure you that it is necessary and you are not to question it.”

Emily did as she was bid and then the maid started putting cushions under her belly so that her bottom was thrust into the air most lewdly. Then she disappeared and reappeared with a trolley containing vials of strange-coloured liquids, tubes and tanks of water. “Enemas are how ladies rid themselves of their waste as an enema achieves much deeper cleaning than standard measures. This may be disconcerting and painful but you shall endure it Miss Carter.”

And with those words, the maid tipped some of the vials into a tank of water, attached a hose to it and then carefully inserted that hose into her bottom hole. Almost dying with embarrassment, Emily felt the water trickle inside her and fill her up slowly, causing her stomach to become swollen and distended as if she were pregnant.

It was getting quite painful to because the liquid was also bubbling and burning slightly inside and she was sure that no more could be pumped in, but thankfully the maid produced a small ivory plug and after removing the hose she put that in Emily’s bottom hole. “Stand up and walk around the room,” ordered the schoolmistress, “as this helps the cleansing solution reach all areas. Jump a little too. The water has soaps added and these will really clear away all your waste.” Still in shock and in ever-increasing discomfort, Emily walked around the room and then jumped up and down causing her small breasts and large stomach to wobble disconcertingly. This continued for some ten minutes or so, at the end of which she was in burning agony, but then the maid produced a bowl which she squatted over and the plug was removed. Smelly brown slushy water gushed out and was removed as soon as possible. Then the whole process was repeated a second time but this time the waste liquid was almost clear. Then it all happened again and when the plug was removed for the third time it was so clear that Emily thought it seemed as if she could even drink it. Not that she would ever drink something that had been in her bottom mind, but nonetheless, it looked and smelt just like normal water. “Excellent,” said the schoolmistress, “now you can begin to get dressed.”

Emily was led into a room where there was a huge pile of clothing folded on a table. So, this was to be her new school uniform. She waited in silence as the maid took the first item off the top of the pile. To her surprise it was not a usual item of underclothing but instead a pair of pants made entirely out of transparent latex. She looked at the schoolmistress quizzically but her face remained stern. “This is the standard uniform here,” she said, “and it is mandatory. The necessity of wearing latex shall become apparent very soon.” The maid smeared some lubricant all over her bottom and private area and then gingerly she pulled the pants up. They were extremely tight and clung to her figure lewdly, but that was not the most shocking thing. No, what was the strangest thing about these pants were the arrangements for her various openings. Around her vagina there was a rubber tube which the maid inserted into her most private hole whilst there was a similar arrangement at her anus. Emily felt uncomfortable with having a maid touching her in such places but the two other women present seemed to view the procedure as very normal and everyday. Then, to her even greater shock, a small catheter was inserted into her pee hole. Again she looked questioningly at the schoolmistress but this time no explanation was forthcoming, the teacher instead concentrating on seeing that the maid was fitting these quite abnormal pants properly.

The next item on the pile was equally shocking. It was a full body suit also made out of transparent latex. ‘Why on earth wear rubber all over?’ she thought to herself. What has that got to do with a school uniform? However, she asked no questions and instead let the maid cover her with the lubricating oil and then slowly fit the suit. It took a long time as it was all extremely tight and the schoolmistress was insistent that the maid worked out any creases and wrinkles. However, when it was on, Emily felt very strange, compressed all over, yet also starting to get very hot, sweat forming on her skin but unable to escape since her entire body was covered by the suit below her head save for two small holes around her private parts.

The feeling of compression was going to get even worse she realised when she saw the next item. It was a fearsome looking corset, double-boned and finished in a plain grey twill. It was not pretty or feminine but it was sturdy. She was taken across the room to a trapeze to which her latex-covered wrists were attached and the maid wound a handle and she rose slowly into the air until she was standing on her very tiptoes. This was a lacing bar and although she had never used one before, she knew that ladies used them to stretch themselves when lacing up their corsets so as to achieve a smaller waist dimension. So, she was to be tight-laced from now on. On the one hand that caused her to shudder a bit but on the other it signified that the education which her guardian was granting her was that of a lady for only ladies tight-laced. And the thought of becoming a lady, drinking tea in china cups and chattering with friends in the garden whilst servants served them cakes was rather appealing. Certainly a lot better than being one of those servants which was how she’d expected her life to turn out before her father died.

The corset was placed around her and the maid did up the busk. It was not particularly long, finishing under her breasts, but once the laces were pulled it she realised how strong it was. She began to get out of breath easily and her tiny breasts heaved up and down, yet still the maid continued to pull. Eventually, when she thought she may suffocate she whispered, “Please stop!” but the schoolmistress merely tutted and said she was only half-laced as it was. And so it continued, tighter and tighter, squeezing the very life out of her and causing her to feel dizzy. Eventually though, when she felt like she would black out, the schoolmistress ordered the maid to stop and she placed a tape measure around the waist. “19 inches,” she said with a sigh. “It will have to do for now I suppose. Tie her off!” The maid did that and Emily was left there, panting for breath, getting extremely hot and sweaty under all that latex. Then she was lowered from the bar and the pressure increased dramatically as she put her weight on the floor. She felt dizzy and held out her hands for support. The maid took them and once she had recovered from the shock, guided her over to the chair.

Then she took out the next item from the pile and this was, again, a surprise and not a particularly nice one. It was a full face hood made entirely out of the same transparent latex as the body suit. So, she was to be covered completely? Well, almost completely for there were holes for her nose, eyes and mouth, but that was all. Her newly-shaven skull was lubed and then the hood smoothed on. It was extremely difficult to fit because at the nostrils there were tubes of latex that had to be fitted inside and went in for about an inch or so, whilst inside her mouth was a moulded intrusion which covered her teeth and tongue but left an opening at the back for her to breath and swallow through. Emily wondered why such an elaborate device was necessary and worried as to how she would speak wearing such a hood but knew not to question. Her hearing diminished immediately and the heat and feeling of enclosure increased but beyond that the main change was that a smell of latex filled her nostrils. A smell that she knew she would be getting very familiar with over the coming months.

Next came another nasty surprise. A neck corset made of the same utilitarian grey twill as the main corset. This was placed around her neck and laced tightly by the maid, forcing her head high and tight and causing her breathing to become ragged. Eventually this too was tied off and she prepared the next unpleasant addition to her wardrobe, but instead the maid disappeared and returned with a jug full of iced water. “Drink this,” said the schoolmistress. Emily was glad for this kind thought for she had been getting extremely hot inside all that latex and a drink was exactly what she needed. She gulped down the entire glass and the maid refilled it and she drank that as well. She noticed that it had a strange sort of aftertaste, as if something had been mixed into the water. The maid filled a third glass and offered but Emily, her thirst now sated, merely said, “No thank you, I am quite alright now.” To her surprise though, the schoolmistress took the glass and put it to her mouth. “I said ‘Drink this’ and by that I meant the entire jug! Drink!” Emily looked at the jug in horror! It was easily a gallon in size, perhaps as much as ten pints and she had only had a small part of it. To drink the entire lot! But the mistress was firm and so she drank and drank and drank, her belly aching from the liquid and a bloated feeling taking over. ‘I’ll need the toilet soon,’ she thought to herself, but said nothing, realising by now that this schoolmistress meant business.

Once the jug was finished, the most unpleasant of all her surprises so far was produced. It was a large gag that was put into her mouth and inflated with a bulb until it filled the entire cavity and caused her cheeks to bulge. She could still breathe through it as it had a small tube running down the centre but she couldn’t make any sound. So, she was to be silent in school! But why? How could she learn to sing or talk in polite company if she was gagged? She knew that some high-class women do gag but only for short periods. What was all this about?

Whilst she was wondering, the maid was fiddling around down below. She had attached a small belt around her waist and then had produced a kind of plug which she was obviously going to fit next. But where? “Stand up please, Miss Carter,” said the maid and after she did, she found to her dismay that the maid was intending to fit it into her vagina! It was well-lubricated and slid in quite easily but then to her shock the maid started to pump the small attached bulb and it slowly expanded inside her, making her feel full and violated. After four pumps it was unbearably full but then the maid gave another which caused quite unpleasant painful sensations, made worse by the fact that her bladder was now filling up with some of the water she had been forced to drink. Next though, it got worse. She was told to bend over the desk and another plug was forced into her bottom hole. This was thin at one end but got wider before thinning suddenly into a trunk rather like the shape of a Christmas tree. Although well-lubed, inserting this – into a place where she had never had anything inserted before her enemas that morning – was really painful and although the maid was slow and gentle, Emily found herself groaning into her gag. Eventually though, it popped in and the natural reflexes of her bottom hole squeezed around the trunk, sealing it into place. Then though the maid started pumping that plug as well and as it grew inside her the pain grew with the stretching. Like the vaginal plug, this was pumped five times and then she was ordered to stand. In the mirror she saw herself, completely covered in latex but with three bulbs handing down from her mouth, vagina and anus. These however, were removed by the maid who then approached her with some piping. What on earth was all this about? The maid attached the first tube, shorter and wider than the other, to the end of her vaginal plug and then the other end she screwed into the anal plug. Then she took the other tube and screwed that into another opening in the anal plug and threaded it up her back, attaching it to the belt that she’d fitted around her corseted waist, and then up, round her neck and into her mouth gag. So, she could no longer breath through that opening but what on earth were those tubes for? She couldn’t figure it out at all and whilst she was wondering, the maid brought the next item, a tiny plastic device that fitted around her nose and was connected to a strap which was tied behind her head. The device had insertions which went into the nostrils and the maid started fiddling with these and gradually she felt them getting larger and thus stretching her nostrils quite painfully. This she did not mind much though, for she realised the purpose; as the only way for her to breath, they were actually helping her to get more air into her poor lungs compressed by the tight corset. Once this was done though, came the most major and shocking item of all.

It was a suit, a full body suit, of flesh-coloured rubber. It was thick, extremely thick and it covered everything, right down from her feet to the head. It was slowly fitted and stretched over her already-covered form and she felt the heat rise significantly. She also felt the desperate need for the toilet, yet how could she pee covered like this and with all those tubes? Unfortunately, she couldn’t ask now, being silenced so. The suit was worked over her legs, middle, chest and arms and then the head was fitted. It covered everything, with only small holes for her nostrils, the rubber of the suit, actually going inside them and lining them, and two pinholes in front of her eyes although these were covered by some sort of glass, causing her vision to be like looking through a tunnel.

Eventually it was fitted and the headmistress bade her to sit down on the chair. She could hardly hear her with two layers covering her ears but she did as asked. This done, the then maid produced a wig of beautiful golden ringlets which she showed to her before fastening on the top of her head. Then the mirror was produced and she was shown her new image. What she saw shocked her and caused her to gasp in horror. Emily Carter had completely disappeared and in her place was a doll, a lifesize female doll with large blue eyes, smiling ruby red lips, beautiful blonde tresses, a swan-like neck and a tiny waist. Disturbingly though, as a doll, this was sexless. There was no vagina and no nipples over the tiny breasts. It was a blank, flesh-coloured toy.

“Meet Clarissa,” said the schoolmistress, leaning near to her ears so that she could hear. “Miss Emily Carter does not exist anymore and for the months you spend at St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, only Clarissa shall be present. Now, I can appreciate that all of this must be very confusing and unexpected for you; it is for most of our girls, but it is how we do things here and you shall have to learn to adapt. Now, first things first. My name is Miss Parker and I am the mistress here. We only have one mistress as more are unnecessary. I shall prepare you for your future life and I shall prepare you well and your uniform is the main tool that I shall use to do that. Now, right now I expect you are dying to pee but do not know how, sealed as you are inside your new skin. Am I right?” Emily – or Clarissa – nodded. “Right, well, what you must do now is let go, empty your bladder right now, here. Go on girl!” Confused, Emily did as she was told. She felt an enormous relief as her bladder emptied but then a strange feeling as her bottom began to fill up with warm pee. What was happening? The pee flowed and flowed and her bum filled and filled, pressing against the tight corset and causing her a little pain. It was like the enema she had received earlier except now it was her own pee, not water, inside her.

“When you pee the liquid flows through the tube straight into your anus, thus giving you an enema such as you are probably experiencing at the moment. This is why you were given a full enema before as it was imperative that your stomach be as empty and clean as possible. Here at the St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, our students rarely take off their uniforms; in fact, it is only done once a week on a Sunday before church. However, you still need to emit waste and to consume, so what we have developed is a waste recycling system. The liquid that you drank had nutrients added to it, enough to give your body all it needs to survive for the week. Now, I imagine that you are feeling rather full in your bottom now. There is only one way to relieve that and it is the way in which you shall always relieve your thirst and obtain nutrition whilst a student here. Suck on your gag Clarissa!”

Drink her own pee! The thought of it was too disgusting, too dirty to even contemplate! Yet she was sealed into that costume and the pressure in her bottom was quite intense now, painful in some respects. So, hating herself as she did it, she sucked. At first nothing happened but then slowly warm pee flowed up and filled her mouth. She gulped it down; the taste was disgusting and she felt like retching but she knew she had no choice. She gulped and gulped, fear filling her for what other horrors her new school might hold for her. Yet as she gulped the doll in the mirror just sat there, motionless, smiling blissfully. There was not a hint of the chaos that reigned beneath all that rubber and latex!

“Right now,” continued Miss Parker. “Now Clarissa has been created, but she is naked, and thus not decent to be seen out of her room. Now we can finally begin to dress you in your uniform.”

First came stockings held up by garters that Emily could hardly feel through all that rubber and then white cotton bloomers. Then she was made to sit down and the most incredible pair of black boots brought out. They reached up to her calves and required lacing for their entire length but most incredible of all was that they held her feet in a vertical position so that she had to balance en pointe like a ballet dancer. Once fitted she was helped up and she found balancing extremely difficult, shifting her weight from one point to the other. Of course, she had seen ballet boots before in magazines about the upper classes, but never worn them and was not happy that she now had to. It was obvious that the school – and her guardian – planned for her to be a lady, but what kind of lady is trapped in latex and rubber and continually drinking her own waste?

Then came a shift and then petticoats, seven in all before a crinoline cage some five feet across and then a petticoat on top. On her arms white kid gloves were fitted and then the school dress, a plain cotton affair in dark blue. Finally a silver necklace was brought out and fitted around her neck. It had the number seven hanging from it. All of this she hardly noticed now, instead she was more obsessed with the struggle to breath and to balance on her ridiculous new heels. That and the awareness that her bladder was bursting again and she was loathe to empty it into her still full bottom.

Dressed, she was ready to leave the room and holding her maid’s hand she tottered across the floor and through the door. The continual movement caused all her plugs to squirm around inside her and her bladder broke again so that as she tottered down the corridor, her bottom began to overfill with warm pee again whilst all the time she was drenched in sweat and struggling to breath. Eventually though they came to another door and when it was opened Emily found herself confronted by a large sitting room. More shocking than that though was the fact that all of the chairs were occupied by blonde-haired life-size Clarissa dolls identical to her! Almost fainting from the shock, her maid had to catch her to prevent her from falling. Emily regained her breath and against her will, hating herself for doing it, but desperate to relieve the pressure down below, took a large suck on her gag and her mouth filled with warm pee.

Life at St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies was like a surreal nightmare for Emily. On that first day she had been taken to the room with the other dolls – or students which of course is what they were – and sat on a chair where she had stayed for hours, unable to move easily and instead just sweating profusely, breathing with great difficulty whilst all the while her pee circulated from her bladder to her bottom to her mouth and then back down to her bladder again. The only other activity was to watch the other dolls – who were all referred to as ‘Clarissa’ by the maid and Miss Parker – but they all had different numbers on their necklaces – and watch the clock tick by through her pinhole glass doll’s eyes. Then at five the maids entered and they all rose and trooped into the next room which was a large dining room. There they were all sat at a table with Miss Parker at the head. Everyone was served food, roast beef and vegetables which looked delicious, but of course only Miss Parker ate, for they had all already dined on quite different fayre. Then, after dinner they rose and returned to the sitting room for another hour, before being collected for bed at seven.

To reach her bedroom Emily had to climb two flights of stairs which was not easy in her ballet boots and rubber, not to mention the wide crinoline, but she got there with her maid’s help and found herself in a small box room with a trapeze. In the middle of the room she was then undressed back to her doll skin, shift and bloomers but that was all, and then was told to sit on the bed and the maid did something very strange and unexpected. She got a bowl and knelt at her charge’s feet and then fiddled around with her rubber skin under the ball of her foot. There was evidently some sort of opening or valve there and small holes in the latex body suit underneath for a flow of liquid was released into the bowl. “That’s nice and clean now isn’t it?” said the maid to her with a smile but Emily didn’t understand what she meant. But as she was repeating the process with the other foot, she realised; it was the sweat that had collected during the day; the maid was draining her costume! After this she was tucked into bed. However, her arms were then guided to the sides of the bed where they were cuffed whilst her legs cuffed at the foot. There was to be no attempt at removing her costume and after she was tucked in and kissed on her smiling rubber mouth by the maid, she had to just lie there and suffer until, after many hours, sleep eventually came.

The next morning she was awoken early and redressed in her uniform. Then she was led downstairs for a surreal breakfast with Miss Parker and the other dolls before then the morning lessons which were all about walking gracefully on the ballet heels. For over an hour they walked in circles around a yard whilst the maids helped them and Miss Parker maid comments and criticisms. It was hard and thirsty work indeed and the constant movement caused her to be continually leaking pee into her bottom but at the end she was much better at handling the boots and could walk unaided.

Then came a surreal lunch and after that another hour of lessons, this time in a classroom. Miss Parker wrote a passage on the blackboard and all the Clarissa dolls had to copy it on slates, not an easy task when your hands are covered with two layers of rubber and one of kid. The passage that they copied was about the role of wives with the ideal wife being silent and submissive to her husband. ‘Dressed like this,’ thought Emily to herself, ‘I don’t have much choice!’ Then they all retired to the sitting room again for several hours of watching and waiting. As she sat there drenched in her own sweat, her mouth tasting of pee, Emily started to pass the time by seeing how long she could hold her bladder and then how long she could hold her pee in her bottom. Strange as this might sound, the latter activity, although slightly painful, was beginning to excite her down below in a way that she thought was probably inappropriate, but with nothing else to occupy her time, she continued with it. Then after that it was dinner again, another hour in the sitting room and bed.

The days all followed exactly the same pattern except that the lessons were different on different days. She was trained in walking with ballet boots, wearing a monoglove and on what to expect when she became a wife. They watched a video of different improvements made to women, with some being given gifts of enormous bulging breasts or fat pouting lips. Watching this, Emily would have love to feel her own breasts but as her arms were firmly pinioned behind her in a tightly-laced monoglove at the time, then this was obviously not a possibility.

Things changed however, on Sunday, the day of rest. Ever since she’d been sealed into her Clarissa doll costume Emily had been looking forward to this as Miss Parker had told her that on Sundays the costume is removed. Also, as the week had passed she’d noticed a difference. Whereas at the beginning her pee had come regularly and she’d felt bloated, by the end of the week it was far smaller in volume and more acrid in taste. She guessed that this was due to the loss of liquid through sweat and she was desperate to fill up with clean water again, plus she also hoped that she may get some time out of her costume and perhaps even a meal to enjoy as well so Sunday was like a beacon of hope for her.

On Sunday morning she was awoken extremely early, about five, by her maid and, to her delight, stripped of her shift and bloomers and then her Clarissa doll suit. Standing there in all the clear latex, she felt a little cooler but not much different, but eager to undress further and feel the air of the outside world on her skin. Her maid got out a bowl, carefully un screwed her plumbing and told her to empty her bladder. This she did gladly and the pee that had been circulating through her body for an entire week was now all collected in the bowl. It was a rather dark green now, and she was glad to be rid of it but first she needed to taste some of the real pure water. However, instead of this, her maid instead took a damp pad from a box and held it over her nose. “Breath deeply,” she ordered. Emily did so but then immediately felt weak and dizzy. She realised it was chloroform. Within seconds her world had gone black.

When she awoke she found that she was lying on her bed. She was still dressed in all her clear latex but she felt different: drier and cleaner yet somehow tighter. She turned to look at her maid who was sat by her bed. “Ah, you’re awake, good. You have been out for over an hour. During that time I have undressed you, bathed you and given you a thorough enema. I bet you’re feeling fresh and clean now; you certainly were very dirty and smelly after a week in there. You’ve also been laced to new dimensions, an extra half an inch has gone from your waist and a quarter inch from your neck. This will continue until you are fifteen inches around the waist, the dimensions preferred by your husband to be. Now, we need to get you ready for church but here’s the bit I imagine you’ve been looking forward to: it’s time for your weekly drink!”

She produced a medical stand with a large gallon bag of clear liquid with a hose running out. This hose she attached to Emily’s gag and the confined girl began to suck eagerly. After a week of pee drinking this was heavenly, the most beautiful drink she had ever experienced, real amber nectar. After only a pint or two though she began to feel full but carried on sucking; she now knew the consequences of drinking too little! Finally it was finished, and the tube unplugged and replaced with her regular plumbing. She felt clean and good but at the same time devastated that she had not experienced life outside of her suit. As if reading her mind, the maid said, “Here at St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, our students are not allowed to be conscious outside of their latex suits; it helps undermine the doll mind mentality that we are working so hard to achieve.”

After that she was sealed back into her Clarissa doll suit and then dressed in her uniform. Today though, since they were going to church, there was more. Her gloved hands were fitted into a muff which locked in place making it impossible to removed them and then a heavy cloak was draped over her and fastened up the front. Finally a large bonnet was fitted atop her head with a thick veil which rendered her blind. Then, fully dressed, she was led out of her room to church.

How long the walk was she could not say, for blinded it was impossible to measure time or distance but she reckoned only about half a mile or so. But in her rubber and ballet boots, weighed down by her cloak and blinded by her bonnet and veil, it was a real trial. As she shuffled along she realised that to the outside world she, and all the other students of St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies would appear as normal young ladies such as are to be found in any good school. No one would know that in fact they were forced to live as pee-drinking rubber dolls. As she walked the movement broke her bladder again and almost immediately she began to suck from her bottom. The taste was better now, less acrid and cleaner, but tinged with the harsh knowledge that she had a long time to wait before she could be refilled again.

Life continued in the same surreal fashion for Emily the Clarissa doll as the months rolled by. She had been told that she would stay in the school until her waist reached 15 inches and at first she tried to work it out at half an inch a week, but that time passed and she realised that the reductions were getting smaller as she neared her target. Certainly she felt them and was always gasping for breath. However, one day, after about six months she was summoned to Miss Parker’s office and the schoolmistress announced that she would be getting married in a month’s time but that first she would be going to hospital in order to have her marital improvements undertaken. Emily wondered what improvements could be done to someone who is totally sealed off from the world but then realised with joy that after marriage she would no longer be a pee-drinking rubber doll anymore. That surprised her a little when she thought of it for she had now got very used to her situation and the prospect of consuming anything other than her own waste was strange to her now. She recalled Miss Parker’s words about a doll-mind being formed and she realised that she was now passive and accepting of most things, including the fact that she would be taken to hospital to have her body altered without any consultation.

The next day she left and was transported to Gt. Ormond St. Hospital in a sealed car. This was the first time she’d left the school save to go to church, but with her blinding veil she saw nothing and after the car stopped she was led walking blind down several corridors and then ordered to sit in a chair. When her bonnet and veil were removed she discovered that she was in a private consulting room with a bed covered in white latex. Her maid undressed her and then removed her Clarissa costume. Stood in latex only she felt quite naked and emptied her waste into a bucket on the floor. Then her mouth tube was removed and the chloroform covered her nose.

Emily awoke aching and tired and with a blinding headache. She found herself strapped to a bed, covered in latex but not her Clarissa costume. There was a gag in her mouth but no tube connected to it and instead she was being fed by a drip into her arm. She tried to raise her head and see what had been done to her and when she did gave a small gasp of surprise. Fastened to her chest were two of the most enormous breasts that she had ever seen, each easily as big as her head! She shook her body and they jiggled beneath the latex but still stayed proud and alert. So, her new husband wanted her to have a massive bosom then! But what else?

Sometime later a nurse arrived. She smiled and said, “Glad to see you’re awake again Miss Carter. Those new breasts of yours are some of the largest we’ve done for a while but I’m sure they’ll please your husband. You’ll find them very hard and distended; he especially requested that I believe. What you won’t know that is that down below we’ve trimmed away some of your excess flesh petals to leave a smooth hole which is far more doll-like don’t you think? Anyway, I’ll be back regularly if you have any problems.”

Emily didn’t have any problems and besides, doll life had taught her just to lie and wait. She recovered in the hospital for about a week and at the end was able to feel her heavy new breasts with her latex-covered hands. They certainly were hard and round and looked completely fake but then again, she was half doll now anyway, was she not? At least she did not have to drink pee all the time now and everyday she was allowed to drink water and even juice which was a totally unexpected pleasure and like heaven for her.

When she came to move again, she found walking hard. Her breasts were very heavy and threw her whole body forwards. She had to spend hours practicing with the nurse before she could finally leave.

Emily was not taken back to the school but instead dressed in a different doll suit and removed to a hotel. This doll suit had no internal plumbing and so instead she had to use the toilet again like a normal person although there was still a plugs in her bottom hole to prevent accidents, her vagina, now freed of its excess flaps of skin was now left free, beyond the latex lining that penetrated it for a couple of inches. What was also different now was the mouth. Like before, this appeared like a pair of smiling lips, but inside it was very different, a ring keeping her teeth open whilst latex still coated the inside. However it also contained, just behind the teeth, an extra layer of rubber so that items could enter the mouth like her drinking pipe but were now harder to remove and had to be put in more deeply, coming out with a ‘Pop!’ when they did. What was also new was her face. Gone was the Clarissa doll and in her place a very realistic latex face of a young lady in her twenties with sweet brown eyes and long brown hair in ringlets. She was certainly very beautiful and Emily guessed that was why her husband had chosen it.

In that hotel she was laced into a longer corset and her training in walking continued. Then, two days later, a dress arrived, a glorious creation in white with a seven-foot wide crinoline, white silken gloves and lots of frills and bows. She was fitted into it and adjustments made and then stripped again.

Finally the day of the wedding came. Emily was awoken early and dressed in a tight corset that was laced steadily down. Beautiful white stockings were fitted to her rubberised legs and then stunning white ballet boots. Her bottom hole was plugged with an ivory plug and then dozens of frilled petticoats fitted. Her corset was tightened again so that she fainted and after she was brought round another round of lacing began whilst long gloves were fitted over her rubber hands. Then came the enormous crinoline and stunning dress and finally veils, seven of them in silk that blinded her completely. There she stood, silent, gasping for breath, blind and a vision of virginal beauty. Slowly she was led away to the service.

The service was torture. She had to stand and kneel totally blind, fighting to stay conscious and suck air into her tortured lungs. However, two points she did remember clearly. The first was when the priest announced her new name: “Do you Charity Emily Carter take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband…?” Charity. She was to be Charity from now on! And the second moment was when he lifted all those veils to kiss her rubber face. She was surprised: her new spouse was a youngish man, only a little older than her Emily self, and not ugly. She felt his lips kiss the rubber and thanked God for relieving her from the clutches of Miss Parker.

Then came the meal with her guardian making a speech on her behalf and her new spouse extolling the virtues of a doll wife in his. Peering through her eyeholes she could see several other dolls in the crowd, silent and not eating and wondered if there was some kind of crowd which specialised in doing this to their wives and daughters. Still, whether there was or not, her training had taught her not to question, merely to be. She was a doll now, a doll wife and she needed know no more than that.

After the meal, Charity was led away from the table by a maid and up the stairs of her new mansion home. She arrived into a glorious bedroom with a fine four poster bed in the middle of it. The maid divested her of her heavy dress and then all her undergarments and then attended to her toilet. Empty and clean, she was led to the bed where she was lain out but then to her surprise, there came some unexpected extras. Her arms were stretched out to the top posts and cuffed there whilst her ankles were stretched to the bottom ones. She was lain spread-eagled, unable to move a muscle. Then the light was turned off leaving her almost totally blind. There she lay, panting in silence, waiting for her new husband not as a wife but as a passive love doll.

She waited and waited, for what seemed like an age but then she heard a door and felt a presence near her. “Charity! Charity!” said a male voice and someone climbed on top of her. He fiddled around her private parts and then she felt an erect penis enter her latex-sheathed hole. He pumped away and she tried to reciprocate but could only manage the slightest of movements. As he fucked her he caressed her hard narrow waist and her tender rubber-covered tits which hurt somewhat but she could do nothing to stop it. She longed to hold him in her arms as she’d imagined doing with a husband when she was younger but obviously dolls do not do that. As he worked away she compared the experience with her youthful fumblings with Johnny Baxter. In some ways this was far worse; she had no say in the matter, she was totally at his mercy, she was entirely passive, it was not romantic at all, not a meeting of two willing bodies, more a rape. Yet the virtual blindness, her sheer helplessness and her doll-like appearance in another way excited her, turned her on and made this special. The two experiences were from separate worlds just as she was no longer a living, breathing girl but instead an anonymous rubber love doll.

Once he had finished he lay on her a while panting and then climbed onto her face and his cock thrust through into her rubber-coated mouth. “I believe you like how this tastes,” he said to her and immediately warm pee started flowing into her mouth. She gulped it down obediently but gagged a little. His pee was not hers; it tasted of alcohol and smelt horrible. Hers was neutral and… well, her own. But she knew that she was his now and so she continued to swallow, tasting pee for the first time in weeks and when she had finished she sucked him dutifully dry.

In the morning Charity awoke with her new husband lying on top of her. He was snoring soundly but she could sleep no longer. She longed to wake him and perhaps enjoy some more intimate activity but of course she could not. She was a Charity doll now; all she could do was lie and wait. As she did her bladder filled and she longed to drain it but unlike in her days at the school she could not so she held it in. Eventually, after a couple of hours he woke. She was worried he would want to enjoy her hole again which would be difficult considering her need for the toilet, but he did not and instead climbed on her face again and this time used her mouth to relieve his tensions. He bounced up and down on top of her causing her to struggle to breathe, her enormous breasts bouncing up and down with each laboured breath but this only aroused him all the more until he exploded into her mouth. The sticky liquid that now graced her throat was a new sensation for her; somewhat salty and with a unique aftertaste and she realised at that moment that this would become a regular alternative to urine for her.

He left her, the semen still coating her mouth and after a few minutes her maid came. She took her to the bathroom and then attended to her toilet, emptying her full bladder and giving her a thorough enema but then, after plugging her bottom as before, a large, a catheter was inserted into her pee hole which was attached to an empty rubber bag which was fastened under her bum. No explanation was offered and Charity could hardly go ahead and ask so she just stood docilely whilst it was screwed into place and then the maid dressed her in copious silken underclothes that she’d have loved to have felt directly on her skin before then dressing her in her new attire as a wife. Unlike at the school, her dress was now the very opposite of plain, a glorious creation in yellow silk printed with tiny flowers and decorated with every manner of bow and frivolity. It had a high lacy collar and in her brown sausage curls little yellow ribbons were tied. The only disconcerting thing was that on her hands, already difficult to use since they were covered by two layers of rubber, padded mittens were tied so that they were rendered absolutely useless. Ballet boots were then laced to her feet and when she was led to the mirror she saw the image of a very girly, prissy young doll lady with a smiling face and not a care in the world. It was shockingly innocent, almost childish, yet at the same time the enormous globes of her heaving fake breasts and the miniscule waist hinted of a very adult alternative reality. That was Charity; that was her from now on.

She descended the stairs, her gorgeous dress sweeping the steps and was led to the dining room where her husband sat at one end of the table and a place was prepared for her at the other. Although she had accepted that a degree of the doll life would be continuing for her now that she was married, this sight rose her hopes that she might at least get proper meals, all be they liquidised ones. However, when her spouse began to speak, she realised that such was not the case.

“My dear Charity, good morning and don’t you look so radiant today. I have so long waited for this moment, when we can dine together as husband and wife. I thought that it would come many years ago but alas, that was not to be but even so, here we are at last. Now, your former headmistress has told me all about the unusual diet which you were kept on at school and indeed, it seems to have done wonders for you so I have decided that I don’t want my little dolly wife to forget all that she has learnt and so I have decreed you carry on in the same fashion for your breakfast and lunch each day, but for dinner, that being the special meal of the day as it were, we can have something different. However, as we are now united in the eyes of God, it is only right and proper that we share everything, so I have asked the cook to prepare you a tasty breakfast, three parts God’s water and one part mine laced with all the vitamins and nutrients that the doctor assures me you need to stay in your current radiant condition. Does that please you Charity?”

Please her? Did it? Not really, since she really longed for some of the milk he was drinking, but the doll mind was so engrained in her now that she merely nodded mechanically which caused him to smile. “Charity, oh Charity, you are a delight! I must thank Mr. Cartwright for suggesting I take a doll wife instead of chasing after shadows! I’d never considered it before you know; you shall soon learn my former plans, but he came to me, said that he had been landed with a ward who was neither intelligent nor pretty but who could be moulded into a doll for a reasonable bride price and I thought, why not? If I can’t have Charity one way, I’ll have her the other and here you are!”

A maid approached with a large four pint porcelain bowl with a lid on the top and a rubber tube leading out which was attached to her gag. Dutifully she sucked as he husband explained her new life. It was much diluted but the taste was still strange, not being her own and she realised how unnatural it now felt for her to be drinking someone else’s water.

“My dear, I’m afraid I’m a rather busy man what with the company to look after and all, so you’ll be without me all day and also for periods when I leave on business trips but I have been assured that your training at school has helped prepared you for such waiting. Whilst I am away I shall arrange some permanent enclosure so that no one may be tempted to violate whilst I am not here, but whilst present I wish access so that I can fulfil my duties to you as a husband. You will be pleased to know that you will be living as a lady, a lady of leisure and that requires a monoglove at all times when I am not present although in the evening I shall enjoy the touch of your mittened hands. I believe you have been trained in such garments so I imagine that is no problem for you. Anyway my love, this house is yours, you are mistress now and I am sure you shall love each and every day spent here!”

But did Charity love each and every day? It is hard to say. Certainly they were largely the same; each like that first one. After breakfast Harry had gone off to his work and she had been laced into an unforgiving monoglove with a tiny bell attached to the end. It caused her arms to ache and go dead but whenever she needed something she could ring the bell and a maid would come. She then went to the ladies’ sitting room where she sat on a couch and waited. Her bladder was getting full now from all the liquid she had consumed and so she let loose and it flowed into the black bag under her bottom, causing the pee to slosh about. Her maid asked her if she wanted tea which she did and a pint of liquid was brought to her which she sucked up. She sat for a while but she was bored in the sitting room so she went out into the garden. However, to go out there her husband had decreed that her rubber skin needed extra protection so a rather strange extra layer was added; a transparent full head latex hood with only a small hole for breathing and then an enormous summer bonnet over that which gave her tunnel vision. Wearing this hood was one of the most terrifying experiences of her life. It reduced her vision – which was pinhole anyway – with only the near ground being clear and the distance fading into a haze of latex but more than that it only had a tiny hole to let air in and when she breathed it closed around her face, only expanding like a balloon again as she exhaled. At first she was scared she would suffocate but slowly she realised that she would not die in it but her air was now stale as it was mostly recycled and she really had to labour her breaths to get any into her lungs. Nonetheless, strange as this may sound, it also excited her somewhat down below and she wished at that moment for her husband to service her.

She sat for around an hour in the garden, all her efforts expended on the hood which sucked in front of her face with a scrunching sound and then blew out again with another scrunch. Then her maid arrived and told her that she had a visitor, a local lady wishing to offer her congratulations on her marriage and so she returned to the sitting room where the bonnet and hood were removed and her breathing became clearer again.

The lady in question was one Arabella Montague, the wife of a local landowner who was friendly with her husband and, to Charity’s surprise, also a doll. She was dressed in a ridiculous pink confection and also had her arms strictly laced into a monoglove that matched her dress. They could of course, not communicate at all, but their maids did it for them. Her maid thanked Mrs. Montague for her visit and informed her that she was enjoying married life. Mrs. Montague’s maid then said that her mistress was well and had brought some magazines for her to read. These turned out to be copies of a publication called ‘Doll Monthly’ and were dedicated to women living as doll wives. Her maid offered tea and two pints of liquid were brought and tubes attached to their mouths. Then reading stands were brought and set up in front of the ladies and together they perused the magazines. The articles were all about women living as dolls, different doll fashions, waste recycling, liquidised food ideas – most dolls it seemed, were not fed primarily on urine – and meal hints; restraints, rubber underclothing, doll schooling and the like. There was a large feature on husbands who regularly changed their doll wives’ faces and Charity wondered if Harry would ever do that for her. Then, after an hour or two, Mrs. Montague left and Charity retired for dinner, another two pints of diluted pee with vitamins. By this time, on top of her breakfast, she had consumed four pints and had been peeing herself regularly, the liquid collecting in her bag which was now forming a rather sloshy cushion for her to sit on. The afternoon followed a similar pattern but with no visits and by the end the bag was full to bursting and she was sat quite high on her new, self-made pee cushion.

At six Harry returned and went straight to greet her. He kissed her on her rubber cheek then went to his armchair, sat down, asked her to kneel in front of him. Then he opened his trousers, got out his manhood and got her to suck him to climax whilst he stroked her wig lovingly. Then they retired to the dining room for dinner which, as promised, was a different kind of food for Charity. That evening it was a kind of pumpkin soup placed in a large bowl which she sucked up eagerly, delighting in the exquisite taste after such different fayre all day, looking into Harry’s eyes and realising that she loved her new husband very much for caring so much about her. Then they retired to the drawing room, he unlaced her monglove, sat her on his knee like a little girl and told her a story whilst caressing her miniscule waist and huge breasts before she was taken by the maid up the stairs, stripped of her clothing, had her bag removed, (it’s contents saved for future meals), and fastened on the bed again waiting for her husband. This time though, she was not laid out like a starfish, but instead on her front with her legs attached to the bottom posts, but her arms held behind her in a single sleeve. Cushions and pillows were placed under her so that her rubberised bottom, so long the source of all her nutrition, was presented lewdly in the air. Harry soon came, whipped out his manhood, lubed it thoroughly and then proceeded to take her anally pumping in and out quite painfully, filling her hole completely before finally depositing copious quantities of his seed in there and plugging it off, then turning her over and refastening her in the spread-eagle position before relieving himself in her mouth again, kissing her goodnight, wishing her sweet dreams and going to sleep. To us that may sound terrible, but we have not been trained at St. Werburgh’s Finishing School for Young Ladies and for Charity her prime emotion at that time was of adoration for the man who had demonstrated so clearly that she excited him, that he wanted her.

And such was the life of Charity the doll, day after day, each much the same as the last, continuing ad infinitum until the day of the church fete.

The church fete was the main social event in the village and as her husband was one of the most prominent citizens, they were both expected to attend. So it was that Charity was dressed in her full regalia – albeit without the breathing hood which Harry had considered may shock some of the ladies at the event – and they went off to the field where the event was held.

It was trying in all manner of ways for Charity. First of all, the field was most uneven and wearing her ballet boots she found it exceptionally hard to balance, leaning on her husband for support all the while. Plus the exertion of walking round all the bric-a-brac and cake stalls whilst her spouse held polite conversation with the vicar and local notables was most tiring and her legs ached after only a few minutes. But the biggest shock of all was when they entered the large marquee where the teas were being served and she came face to face with someone whom she had never expected to see at all.

Herself.

When I say ‘herself’, I don’t mean the old Emily Carter but instead her new self, Charity Clayhanger. But I don’t mean the doll wife Charity Clayhanger but instead a real, flesh and blood Charity Clayhanger, there in front of her, on the arm of another man. As their faces met she gave a gasp beneath her suit and would have fallen were it not for Edwin’s firm grip. And judging by the reaction of the other Charity Clayhanger, she was just as surprised!

“Edwin! What…?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Baines!” exclaimed Edwin cheerily, “What a pleasant surprise! How are you both? But first, please, let me introduce my wife, Mrs. Clayhanger. Charity darling, these are Samuel and Charity Baines, both childhood friends of mine.”

Charity the doll curtsied but Charity the woman merely looked aghast. “But Edwin, she’s…”

“…a doll? Yes indeed, I have a doll wife. I appreciate that this might surprise you; I must admit that it was never a turn in life that I expected to take but a friend suggested it and do you know what, we are both exceptionally happy together. You really should have considered it, Sam old chap.”

Sam Baines looked as if he did not know where to put himself. Charity Baines on the other hand, seemed now to have completely recovered her composure. “Edwin, it was not the fact that she is a doll that surprised me; you and a doll wife would always have been an ideal match in my eyes, but the fact that she is… she is me!”

“Well yes, I can see how that might be a bit of a shock, but I needed someone to base her upon and who better than my oldest and dearest female friend? I’d have thought you’d have seen it as a compliment.”

“A compliment, why to have a human being encased in latex and…”

But she never finished her sentence for her husband took her by the arm and said, “Now, now Charity dearest, decorum. Listen Edwin old chap, I think you and I need a word… in private. We can leave the ladies here for they must be tired with all this strolling around and we can have a wander.”

“Excellent idea old chap.”

And so it was that one Charity found herself sat opposite the other, engaging in conversation as ladies do. Except that this conversation was all one-way.

“You poor thing,” exclaimed the real Charity, putting her gloved hand on the rubberised arm of her doll copy. “You poor, poor thing! I know that there is no law against it but to think that he did that to you.” The Charity doll looked back at her with a vacant smile. “I can’t believe that he chose to make his doll wife a copy of me. Well… I can believe it, the fiend! He always wanted me, right from when we were teenagers. We were practically engaged and he always talked as if our marriage was a foregone conclusion. Perhaps then it was; after all, who else is there in this village of his standing and stature? But how could I marry a man who views women as mere objects, chattel, dolls…? It was an offer I couldn’t turn down, only postpone. Until Sam moved back into the hall of course, after all his years in Europe, and I caught his eye. When he proposed I snapped his hand off. Your Edwin was distraught of course; he always did love me in his own way; but I never thought that if he could not have me in the flesh, he would recreate me in another way, in this sick and perverted fashion. Oh you poor thing, you poor, poor thing!”

When her husband told her the story that evening it was very different. He admitted to being hopelessly in love with the real Charity and that she had returned his affection, or so he thought, but merely she had been a gold-digger, stringing him along until someone richer – like the excessively wealthy Sam Baines – came along. “I was devastated when I heard that they were to wed, I couldn’t leave my room for a week,” he confessed, “but do you know what, time has taught me that I was the lucky one. She never lived up to the ideal that her pretty face suggests, whilst you my darling are silent, submissive and pure, everything that a wife should be. Sam allows her too much freedom, he really does and he shall come to regret it, he really shall!”

That night as she lay stretched-out spread-eagle on the bed, her husband made love to her with a vigour that she had never previously experienced, shouting out her name at the top of his voice as he exploded within her rubberised hole.

The doll life continued in its mundane fashion for Charity for several months until one evening over dinner her husband announced that he was going away that Friday for a couple of weeks on business. “Alas my dear, I cannot take you with me, but don’t worry, I shall ensure that you are kept safe and secure, ready and eager for my return.”

When Friday came, she was taken to her room, her outer garments removed and the maid placed the chloroform pad over her nose until she blacked out.

She awoke covered in her clear latex undergarments like she always did but this time something was different. Around her waste was some kind of container of black rubber. It was connected to her tubing somehow and had a valve on the side. Then her Charity costume was produced and fitted over her, encasing her in the warm rubber again. Once fitted, the maid showed her her new image in the mirror. She was the same as normal except where her narrow hips had been, she now had massive wide matronly hips. She wondered at first and then realised that, like the narrow waist caused by the corset, it was an optical illusion caused by the rubber container that was fastened around her like a bum roll underneath. But what was the purpose of it all? The maid then produced a polished silver belt with ‘Property of Edwin Clayhanger’ engraved on the front and fastened it around her middle, locking it off with a small padlock. “Your husband has the key to this and it can only be unlocked when he returns,” she explained. Charity was confused; he said that he would be gone for months so how would she cope? Then she realised. Her maid fiddled around at her enormous hips and opened a valve and then attached a tank full of slightly-coloured liquid to it which was then pumped inside her hips. She felt them fill around her until there was pressure all around like a tyre and then the valve was sealed off. “Unlike your school costume M’Lady, this system means that you can be continually refilled without removing the costume allowing for months of continual wear. Sir has said this is mandatory for whenever he is away and the belt prevents removal.”

Charity’s heart fell. After her time in hospital and weeks as a newly-married doll, she’d hoped that at least she would never be forced to subsist on her own pee again yet now it was back and more permanent than ever. She sucked to try and work out how this new system worked and after several hours it was clear. Essentially it was the same as the system at St. Werburgh’s but with an added stage inserted. Rather than drinking every week, she had her bum bags refilled every few days and she drank from these, sucking directly from the bag into her mouth. This went down through her body into her bladder after which she peed into her bottom. When this was full she needed to suck to free space in the bum bags and then her bottom would drain into them and the whole process would start again. Charity realised that drinking from her own bottom was to be a feature of her life for many years to come.

Edwin had been back from his business trip for about a fortnight, (and Charity had been exceptionally relieved to get out of her pee-drinking attire and back to ‘normality’ with a night-time session of congress), when there was a knock on the front door. The maid opened it and to her astonishment, in walked Samuel Baines looking extremely furious indeed. He demanded to see Edwin and the two retired to the study whilst Chairty sat in her usual silent contemplation.

When they emerged an hour later, Edwin was wearing a smile and after Samuel had left, he turned to his doll wife and said, “Hmm, I think we’ll be seeing some changes around here soon.”

Sure enough, three days later Samuel called round again and the two men again retired to the study. When they emerged Edwin was again smiling but this time he said nothing.

The third time that Samuel came, he was not alone. Instead he was accompanied by his wife who was most reluctant to enter and had to be manhandled by her spouse who was angry in the face. “Edwin old chap!” he exclaimed, as he pushed the real Chairty onto a chair, “I admit it, I was wrong and you were right! Have the bitch and may she behave better for you than she has done for me!”

“No! No!!!” screamed the woman Charity, clinging onto her husband’s coattails but he merely ignored her, turned tail and left, leaving her lying weeping on the floor. Charity the doll longed to put her arms round her and comfort this doppelganger in distress, but as they were forced into a tight monoglove at the time, she of course, could not. Edwin Clayhanger merely smiled and said, “Welcome home Charity, we shall speak on the morrow,” before retiring to bed and taking his doll wife with him.

On the morrow they did speak and it all became clear. It transpired that that day at the fete the two men had had an in-depth conversation about the real Charity. At first Samuel Baines had been livid that Edwin had modelled his doll wife on his real spouse, but when Edwin had told him how the real Charity had strung him along, he mellowed somewhat and said, “Ed, I understand now how you feel, but you are mistaken; my wife is no whore or gold-digger but a good and poor girl.”

“If only you were right,” Edwin had replied, “and I hope to God that my point-of-view is never proved to be the truth to you.”

But doubts had been put in Samuel Baines’ mind by his old friend, doubts fed perhaps by inklings that he had already he. He hired a private investigator to follow his wife whilst he was at work and discovered that she visited a strange house every afternoon, the house of one Daniel Povey, a well-known local gallant. That was when he’d gone round to Edwin for advice and Edwin had suggested he ask her about her plans for the coming day. “Oh, just to visit old Mrs. Povey on North Street,” she’d replied, which had put his mind at rest somewhat, but just to be sure he’d asked the investigator to dig a little more.

Sure enough, the investigator had dug and Samuel had not liked what he’d found. Yes, Charity had gone to Mrs. Povey’s house, but Mrs. Povey had been holidaying in Llandudno at the time! Indeed, only Daniel had been at home! Again Samuel had visited his friend and again Edwin had offered his advice. “You must confront her and see what she says. If she admits it, then order her to stop; if she does and she repents, forgive her, but if not then you must finish with her.”

“But how can I? She is my wife!”

“Adultery is a good reason for divorce. Even the Bible says so!”

“But what will become of her? I still love her but disgraced so she will never get another husband and her family won’t have her back! I don’t want her to become destitute or a prostitute!”

“Your concern as a husband honours you, but it is not just you who have loved her. If you must divorce, send her to me; I shall accept her as a companion for my Charity and I can ensure that she never disgraces you or any other male ever again.”

The next night Samuel had confronted Charity and she had admitted to an affair. She had not however, repented. “He is a better lover and a better man than you can ever be!” she’d exclaimed, her tongue loose with wine drank with Daniel Povey that afternoon. Her husband, tears in his eyes had begged her to repent and desist but the more he grovelled, the more she mocked him. Then he switched, realised how right Edwin Clayhanger had been all along and so dragged his wife to the home of his friend.

“A Lady’s Companion!” exclaimed the real Charity, indignant. “I am a ladyand she – it – is only a doll. How can I be a companion to that?!”

“Charity my love, you were a lady, but you are no longer. Your husband is at the court now instigating the divorce and has placed you in my care. As your guardian I shall of course agree to the divorce and then employ you as a Companion for this Charity here, the Charity who gives honour to the name, not disgrace; the Charity who is the wife that you should have been but never were due to your own sinfulness!”

“No! Never! Anything but! I shall leave here, turn to prostitution, anything…”

But the maid had already placed the chloroform pad over her nose and mouth and she was sinking into the chair.

A week later…

Charity Clayhanger the Doll Wife sits in the sitting room, the clock slowly ticking, watching the hours pass by. Her life now is as it has been ever since she wed Edwin Clayhanger except that these days there are two important differences. The first is that sat by her is another figure, another doll, a doll identical to her in every respect, from the beautiful peach gown to the brown ringlets with yellow ribbons in them to the same rubber face. Even their names are identical: Charity Clayhanger. She is Mrs. Charity Clayhanger, the wife of Edwin Clayhanger; the other is Ms. Charity Clayhanger, her Companion, until recently Charity Baines but since her divorce she has taken on the surname of her guardian. Her ex-husband, incidentally, has recently announced he will be remarrying, to a doll wife formerly known as Shelley Woods but now to be referred to as ‘Arabella’.

As they sit their Mrs. Clayhanger recalls that evening well. She watched as the maids undressed the unconscious real Charity, gave her three successive enemas and then dressed her in her new latex underskin. When she awoke she, like the doll Charity, was force fed several litres of nutrient-enriched water and then sealed into a doll suit with an exact copy of her real face at the top. Then the wig was produced and the dress and the two doll Charities were born.

The other crucial difference is what will come tomorrow. Edwin, ever the gentleman, announced to the two Charity dolls in his life that despite the fact that one was his wife and pure and the other merely a Companion and enmeshed in sin, he believed firmly in fairness and forgiveness. Therefore, he has forgiven his former love her misdemeanours and shall treat her as he treats his wife. This week Mrs. Clayhanger shall drink and eat and enjoy congress with her husband whilst Ms. Clayhanger sucks pee out of her bottom in sealed silence. After tomorrow though, the roles shall be reversed for a week and Ms. Clayhanger shall ‘enjoy’ the attentions of a man whilst Mrs. Clayhanger shall enjoy the fruits of derriere.

And so it shall continue until the Good Lord takes either Edwin, Charity or Charity.

Twenty years later…

And so here we find Charity Clayhanger, widow of the late Edwin Clayhanger, sat in the parlour of the Chiswick Home for Widowed Dolls. She sits there, a blank-faced, brown-eyed doll with the features of a twenty year-old whom her late husband once loved. Besides her sits an identical doll, a doll whose face, under all the rubber and latex, once looked like the fake face on the front. Their dresses are no longer crinolines for fashions have changed now and they wear large bustles but their hands are still encased in tight monogloves and they sit there in silence as the clocks tick, the only other sound being an almost imperceptible slurping as they both suck pee out of their bottoms to quench the never-ending thirst generated by a life enclosed in latex

FINIS