Left Behind

[DaraJaney]

Frank's Aunt Teresa had just moved into a house in the country.  He hated visiting her with his mother.  His Aunt didn't like boys in general and it was obvious.  But at least the visit was only for a day.

His mother got a call from her boss.  "I'm sorry but they need me to be in London early tomorrow morning.  I'll have to go straight there this evening."  Frank wondered what he was supposed to do.

"Can you look after Frank for a few days?" she asked his Aunt.  Teresa sighed heavily at the prospect.  "I suppose so", she answered reluctantly.

Frank was horrified.  "But I don't have any other clothes!" he protested.  "I'm sure we can borrow some from neighbours", his mother suggested.

But his Aunt wouldn't have it.  "I don't know anyone here yet I'm not going around begging for clothes", she insisted.  "I'm sure we can find something here."  She left the room and the others followed.

She went into a room at the end of the corridor.  It was clearly decorated as a girl's room by the previous owners.  "I didn't have time to sort through my daughter's things after she went to college.  There's lots of old clothes here."

"I'm not wearing girl's clothes!" Frank protested.  "I'm sure we can find a few t-shirts and jeans and things", his Aunt replied.  Frank was slightly placated but still not very happy at the prospect of staying with his Aunt and wearing girl's clothes – however unisex they might appear.

His mother found a white shirt.  "Here!  Try this on."  He took off his t-shirt and pulled on the white shirt.  His mother buttoned it up.  It was fairly plain.  The buttons were on the wrong side of course and it was a little shaped and gathered at the top of the sleeves but he supposed it would do.

She found a pair of jeans.  She made him take off his trousers.  On seeing his underpants it reminded her that he would need some underwear.  She opened a drawer and found girl's briefs.  She chose the plainest white pair.  Frank frowned but removed his underpants as instructed and quickly pulled the plain white panties on.  They fit ok and didn't look particularly girlish but he was still a little embarrassed just knowing they were girl's panties.

"Now try these", his mother told him, holding up the jeans.  But they were cut for a slim girl and wouldn't fit him.  She found more trousers but nothing would fit.  Frank stood in his blouse and panties hoping something would fit him.

After trying about two dozen pairs of pants his mother gave up.  She was running out of time for her train.  "Look, you'll just have to wear this."  She took a plaid pleated skirt and held it up to him.

"I'm not wearing a skirt!" he protested and stepped back from it in disgust.  "You're not wandering around my house in your underwear" his Aunt insisted.  "Anyway, it's just like a kilt – like Scottish boys wear."  She took the skirt which fastened at the side and wrapped it around his waist, clipping it in place.  "There!"

"Mum!" Frank protested but she was smiling.  "It won't be for long dear", she told him.  He was pushed out of the room and clutched his fluttering skirt which went half way to his knees.

"I need to get a train in an hour, we'd better get along", she reminded his Aunt.  "Certainly", Teresa replied.  "But he can't stay here on his own, he'll have to come with us."

"I'm not going out in a skirt!" he squirmed at the thought.  "It's just a drive to the railway station", his mother assured him, "you just have to sit in the back of the car".  Frank couldn't believe it and was almost speechless.  "But 
 it's cold out!" he complained clutching his flared skirt.

"OK", his mother replied and went back into the bedroom.  She opened a couple of drawers and went "here!"  She held up a pair of white wool-knit tights.  "No Mum!"  But she had no time to argue.  She pushed him down on the bed and pulled the tights over his feet.  "It's ok I don't need them", he pleaded.  "You said you'd be cold", she reminded him, running out of patience.  She pulled the tights up his legs and up under his skirt.

"Right!  We need to go now", she insisted, buckling a pair of black t-bar shoes on his feet.  Frank stood indignantly and nearly toppled forward from the heels on his girl's shoes.  He looked in the mirror.  He looked just like a boy in a skirt and tights.  "Mum!"  She looked at him and saw the same.  His Aunt rooted in a box and produced two clip-on hair bows.  She slid these in his hair on either side.

It actually did the job surprisingly well and the shaping of his blouse now accentuated his girlish look.  He was somewhat relieved that he no longer looked like a boy in a skirt but he sighed depressingly at how easily they'd made him look like a convincing girl.

His mother pushed him out of the room.  He was resigned to his fate now.  His Aunt opened the front door and he cringed as he was led into the open wearing a skirt and tights.  A breeze fluttered his skirt and he smoothed it down nervously.

Even during the short walk to the car he felt the tights pulling down a bit.  He sat into the back and reached under his skirt and pulled them up again.  His mother saw him and smiled.  "Problem?"  He just sighed.  The last thing he wanted to start was a conversation about tights.  Questioning things only made it worse, it seemed.

They arrived at the railway station.  There was a sign at the entrance saying that the London train was delayed for an hour.  They all sighed.  "I'd better park and we can go for a cup of tea", his Aunt said.  Frank cringed.  "Can we not just stay in the car?"

But his Aunt parked and his mother opened the door for him.  There were a lot of people around and he didn’t want to create a scene and draw attention to himself so he clutched his skirt as he stepped out of the car.  They headed for the station cafĂ©.  Frank winced.  There were hundreds of people around.  He tried to walk like a girl.  The last thing he wanted was for people to realise that this was a boy in a skirt and tights.  His mother noticed this and smiled.

By the time they sat at a table he was really convinced that his tights were pulling down so much that the panty part would soon be visible.  She couldn't reach up under his skirt here in the middle of crowds.

A teenage girl looked him up and down and smirked - no doubt thinking that he was a bit old for white tights and bows in his hair.  He was fairly sure that she didn't realize he was a boy or the reaction would surely be greater.

He fidgeted uncomfortably in his sagging tights.  "What's wrong?" his mother asked.  He went red in the face.  He whispered as softly as he could.  "These 
 " he had to brace himself even to say the word "
 tights are pulling down."  His mother giggled.  "Well there's a Ladies toilet over there if you have to do some rearrangement."

Frank scampered across the room and into the Ladies.  He went into a cubicle and pulled his tights up as far as he could.  He smoothed down his skirt again and went out.

He was paranoid and convinced that everyone was looking at him and smirking.  He couldn't wait for the hour to be over.  Eventually they stood up from the table.  He tugged the hem of his skirt down as far as he could.  They went out to the platform.

The train was arriving.  As it ran past a gust of wind caused Frank's skirt to flap right up about his waist.  He pushed it down desperately and squirmed as he tried to hold it down.  His mother had seen the bulge in the front of his tights and hurriedly looked around at other bystanders but they were all just laughing at Frank's misfortune.

His mother took one last look at her son in his skirt and tights.  She adjusted one of his bows and smiled.  "You be good for your Aunt and do everything she says", she instructed him.  He didn't like the sound of that.  His Aunt smiled at him in a way he didn't like at all.  She never smiled at him.
"Promise?" his mother pressed him.  He really didn't want to promise but what could he do?  "Yes", he muttered.  His Aunt looked very pleased with herself.

His mother got on the train and it pulled away.  This time Frank clutched his skirt against any gusts that might be generated.

"Right!  We have a little shopping to do", his Aunt announced and strode off.  Frank was distraught.  He just wanted to get back in the car and out of people's view.   But he had no choice but to follow her.

She did the rounds of the shops in the nearby mall.  Frank's tights were slowly slipping down.  He was able to check in the plentiful mirrors that nothing was showing yet.  Just about every teenage girl that he encountered smirked at his sissy appearance.

Eventually they went back to the car and he was so relieved to get out of sight again.  When they pulled into his Aunt's driveway, a couple of neighbours were out in their garden next door.  Frank sank down in the seat hoping not to be seen but his Aunt hopped out and immediately addressed them.

The neighbour looked curiously into the car.  "And who do we have here?" she asked.  His Aunt looked at him in the car.  "Come along Cindy.  Say hello to Mrs. Smiley."  Frank cringed.  Cindy!  He had no choice but to step out of the car.  He said hello in as girlish a voice as he could manage.  "And this is Chris", the neighbour introduced her daughter who was probably only about 6.  Frank said "hi" unenthusiastically.

"Cindy is staying with me for a few days", his Aunt explained.  "Great", Mrs. Smiley replied.  "Why don't you come over and play with Chris tomorrow morning?"  Frank tried to hide his disgust at the thought.  "She'd love to", his Aunt answered for him.

He was relieved to get into the house but realised that his Aunt was not going to let him hide away indoors in his skirt.  He was also going to have to sleep in that girly room with its pink frilly duvet and lacey pillows.

His Aunt laid a pink nightie for him on the bed.  He was too weary to complain and slept in that all night.  He didn't sleep well and every time he woke, he could feel the soft frilly nightie and was reminded of his predicament and the fact that he was going to have to play with a six year old girl tomorrow wearing sissy girl's clothes.

His Aunt woke him early in the morning.  She displayed a cheeriness he'd never witnessed before and which didn't match his own mood.

"I must find you a nice play dress for your visit next door", she informed him.  She rummaged in the boxes and found a yellow dress and went off to iron it.  Frank lay back in the bed dreading the day.
He was relieved to find another pair of plain white briefs and pulled them on just before his Aunt returned.  She threw the dress over his head and zipped it up.  He looked in the mirror.  It was really short – just about covered his bottom by an inch or two.  It also flared from breast level and the collar, hem and sleeves were trimmed with lace.

He tugged the hem as far as it would go and gave his Aunt a pleading look.  "A play dress is supposed to be short – you don't want long skirts getting in your way all the time while you are playing!"  He looked in the mirror again and sighed.  His Aunt found another pair of white tights and handed them to him.  He reluctantly pulled them on.

"And you'll need these", his Aunt said as he looked up.  She was holding a matching pair of yellow panties with rows of lace across the seat and around the leg openings.  "No way!" he protested.  "They go with the play dress", she insisted, "and because it's so short you need to wear something nice there because people will see".  That only made it worse!  But she pulled the panties over his feet and up his legs.

"And they will keep your tights up", she explained.  The panties fitted tightly over his bottom.  She was right about keeping his tights up, he realized.  With such a short dress they were bound to be seen if they sagged.  But he couldn't believe he was in this situation.  His Aunt clipped two yellow bows in his hair.

He did look like a girl, he realized.  But a four-year old one!  He reached up to adjust one of the bows and his dress rode up and exposed his frilly panties.  He quickly tugged his hem down again.  "Well if you're careful nobody need see your panties", she told him.  But it seemed to him that almost anything other than standing bolt upright with his hands by his side would reveal his frilly panties.

She propelled him out of the room before he could protest any more.  After breakfast she led him around to the neighbours.  He tried to hold his dress down firmly as he walked.  Another neighbour looked up from her flower bed and stared at the odd sight.

He was desperate to get inside out of view.  It seemed like an age before Mrs. Smiley opened the door.  When she did she put her hand to her mouth immediately to stifle her surprised at how "Cindy" looked.  "My, what a pretty dress", she managed to say.  Frank cringed.  "Say thank you", his Aunt admonished him.  "Thank you, Mrs. Smiley", he uttered.  "What a good girl!" she praised him and he flinched at being called a girl.

Chris appeared wearing a t-shirt and jeans and seemed just as amused at Frank's appearance.  "Let's go and play with my dolls!" she suggested enthusiastically.  Frank winced.  "Run along now", his Aunt prompted him.  He walked carefully hoping his dress would not flutter and show anything.

Chris's dolls and doll house were in the conservatory.  The ladies took tea and watched the children play through the open French windows.  Frank was mortified having to dress dolls and play with them.  At first he was desperately careful not to bend forward or do anything to expose his underwear but gradually he forgot.

"Hand me that hat", Chris asked him.  He leaned forward to pick up the doll's hat.  "Oh what pretty panties", he heard Mrs. Smiley remark and he froze and cringed before settling back.

When his Aunt was finished the tea, she went to leave.  "I can give Cindy her lunch and she can stay until about 5", Mrs Smiley suggested.  Frank cringed.  Playing girly things all day!  He looked desperately towards his aunt for a reprieve.  "Excellent!" was her reaction and he slumped.

After an excruciating hour playing with dolls, Chris suggested skipping.  Frank had to admit that he didn't know how.  That didn't put Chris off one bit and she insisted on teaching him.

There was little doubt in his mind as he began to skip successfully that his dress was fluttering up more than enough to expose his matching frilly panties but there was nothing to be done except skip with his back to the house in the hope that Mrs. Smiley wouldn't see any tell-tale bulge in the front of his panties.

The day seemed interminable.  When his aunt came to collect him at 5 they were playing hop-scotch.  Frank jumped along and his dress fluttered giving glimpses of his frilly panties.  Then he had to bend over and pick up the counter.   So his entire panties were on show at that point but there was nothing he could do.

"Why don't you skip to that rhyme Chris taught you" Mrs Smiley suggested.  Frank winced.  His aunt was intrigued.  Frank took the skipping rope unenthusiastically and started to skip.  He couldn’t believe he was about to do this.

“I am a pretty little Dutch girl
As pretty as pretty can be
and all the boys in my hometown
are crazy over me.”

His aunt was delighted.  "Again! "  They all demanded it.  Frank skipped again singing the mortifying song with his dress ballooning on each descent showing his lovely frilly panties.

Of course his Aunt committed him to coming back the next day for more play.  He just wanted to die.

The next day his aunt dressed him in a baby blue sailor dress that was similarly short and came with matching frilly panties.  He knew there was no point complaining.

The third day offered the hope of a reprieve.  The ladies wanted to go to the hotel for a fancy lunch.  He would be excused having to play with Chris and wouldn't have to wear a play dress.  However, as he stood in front of the mirror he wondered if this was any better.

He was dressed in a pink jacket and skirt with a white frilly blouse.  The skirt had layers of fluffy petticoats underneath.  He wore lacey patterned white tights and higher heels.  His Aunt placed a white hat on his head, pulled white gloves on his hands and gave him a white purse to clutch.  And he was going to have to go out in public dressed like this!  He longed for his short play dress and dolls.

When he walked he discovered that his petticoats had a life of their own as they swished and fluttered.  And when he went out in the air it was worse.  His hat was almost blown off so he needed one hand to keep it on and the other hand clutched his purse.   There were no hands left to try to stop his petticoats from billowing around.

In the hotel, his heels clacked loudly on the tiled floor causing everyone to turn around and look.  He wanted to move as quickly as possible but the heels forced him to take small dainty steps.  His petticoats swirled as he tottered along clutching his purse nervously.

Each day his mother called to say that she couldn't come back yet.  He was under instructions from his Aunt not to complain about being kept in girl's clothes since his mother was under enough stress.  Of course his mother asked about his clothes and what he was doing.  He tried to give as little information as possible.  "Oh a yellow dress.  I just played with Chris."  But when his Aunt got the phone she filled in the details.  "He looked so pretty in his yellow play dress and matching panties.  I think he really loved playing with dolls and skipping."  He could hear his mother tittering on the other end of the phone.

Eventually his mother returned on Friday night.  He stood on the railway platform in a floral dress with a single petticoat peeping from beneath the hem just above his knees.  His white tights also had a floral pattern.  "Oh how pretty!" his mother gushed.  He cringed.  "He wanted to look his best for you", his Aunt added disingenuously.  Frank looked around nervously to see if anyone heard her refer to "he" and "his".

On Saturday he asked if he could watch the football final that afternoon.  His team were favourites to win.  His mother was not sure that he should be watching football and getting excited about it when he was supposed to be a girl.  He wasn't sure if she was joking.  Lots of girls liked football – though admittedly such girls didn't tend to wear frilly dresses like his!

As it happened Mrs. Smiley invited them all to watch the match in her house on the big screen.  Frank smiled on hearing of this.  "Cindy can play with Chris while the rest of us watch it", she continued.  His smile fell.  "Perfect!" his mother concurred.

He was under instructions not to show any enthusiasm or interest in the football.  He had to wear his yellow play-dress and matching panties.

They sat around the TV watching the pre-match warm-up and eating sandwiches.  Frank sat quietly hoping that they would forget about him and he could watch the match after all.

As the teams lined up for kick-off and his excitement grew Mrs. Smiley stood up.  "Right Cindy and Chris, off you go!"  He wanted to cry.  He put down his cup of tea and stood, carefully tugging his short play dress down.  He walked towards the conservatory.  Chris was excited.  "I've got a new baby doll!"

So Frank sat in the conservatory in his yellow play dress with matching panties and white tights, yellow bows tied perkily in his lengthening hair while the others watched the match.  He could hear the roar of the crowd and the reactions of the others but couldn't hear the commentary to know what was happening.

It was clearly a classic final.  It sounded like there were goals every few minutes but he couldn't tell who was leading.  Chris wanted to go outside and skip.  He sighed but reckoned he was only torturing himself and would be better off not able to hear anything.  But even as he skipped and gave the ladies lovely glimpses of his frilly panties, he could hear the crowd roar from the nearby stadium.

Chris took out a doll's pram and placed her new doll in it.  She pushed it around for a little while before inviting Frank to.  He was relieved to be excused the skipping.  His mother looked out.  The pram was small and low for Frank so he had to lean forward to push it and in doing so the first two rows of lace on his panties were visible.

At half time they were called in for tea.  Frank went in excitedly wondering what the score was.  It was three-all!  He couldn't believe he was missing this.  Once again he tried to keep a low profile hoping that they would forget about him.

He still clutched his tea cup as the second half kicked off.  His side launched an attack.  Then Mrs. Smiley stood in front of the TV.  "Off you go now!"  Frank was distraught.  He wasn't going to see any of the match.  He stood and tugged his dress down.

"Chris why don't you wheel the pram around the block?" her mother suggested.  "Yes!  Let's!" Chris responded.  Frank winced at the prospect of walking around in public in his short play dress and tights pushing a doll's pram.

His mother watched as they went out the gate.  Chris left the pram for Frank to push.  He pushed it out the gate onto the road with his frilly panties showing.  Then she saw some boys run along and they laughed and pointed, presumably at Frank's panties.

It took them at least half-an-hour to get around the block as Chris kept stopping to examine flowers and things.  When his mother saw them come back in the gate, Frank was desperately trying to push the pram without bending forward and his free hand tried to hold the back of his dress down.

Back in the garden they could hear the shouts and roars as the match reached its climax.  Frank desperately wanted to see or at least know what was happening.  Instead he had to sit there in his play dress and tights and brush a doll's hair.

Eventually the matched finished and they went in.  Frank couldn't ask what had happened as he wasn't supposed to be interested.  His mother looked up.  "What a draw!" she mentioned.  He was kind of relieved.  He would be able to see the replay.  "Replay next week", she continued.
Frank smiled.  "Oh, and, the company called and they need me in London again this week."  Frank's smile fell.  "Great!" Mrs. Smiley reacted.  "We can do the same thing next week for the replay."  Frank wanted to cry.  Another week in sissy clothes and another match missed playing with dolls!

[DaraJaney]

His mother's stay in London was extended for a third week leaving Frank stuck in girl's clothes again.  When she returned at the end of that week she asked how he was doing.  Clearly he wasn't happy having to wear sissy dresses and tights and play with dolls every day.  "It wouldn't be so bad if I could even look a bit older."  His mother looked thoughtful.  "OK.  So you want to look older.  We can arrange that."

The next morning his mother appeared in his room to help him dress.  She held up a corset.  "What is that?!" Frank asked.  "You need to have a more grown up shape", she told him.  She pulled the corset down over him and started pulling on the strings.  When it got really tight he begged her to stop.  "Don't be silly", she responded and tugged harder until she had established an hour-glass figure and then she tied the strings.

"You  
. can't 
 be 
 serious", he gasped, barely able to breath.  His mother just shoved rolled up socked into the bra cups of his corset.

Then she took a pair of barely black stockings and rolled them up his legs attaching them to the suspender straps on his corset.  When he stood up the stockings and suspenders stretched and when he walked across the room he could feel them move with every step.  It was a most peculiar feeling.

Then she threw a blue dress over his head, pushed his arms in the sleeves and zipped him up.  It had a pleated skirt that fell just above the knee.

She pushed him down on the bed and slipped a high-heeled shoe onto his right foot and buckled it around his ankle.  Then the same with his left.  She pulled him up to his feet and he almost fell forward the heels were so high.

"How can I walk in these?!" he protested.  "All ladies can, so I don't see why you can't.  You'll have a chance to get used to them while I do your make-up."

So Frank sat uncomfortably in his corset, the suspender straps digging into his thighs and his feet already starting to feel sore in the heels even though he'd hardly walked in them yet.

The whole make-up routine seemed to be interminable.  His mother first applied foundation all over his face.  She then enhanced his eye-brows and drew on eye-liner.  Then she brushed on a blue eye-shadow.

Then she started working on his nails which he hadn't bothered to clip in a while.  She shaped them with a nail file and then painted them red.  Frank protested all along but she just told him it would give him an appreciation of the trouble that women went to in order to make themselves nice for men.

She applied a matching red lipstick and Frank watched worriedly as she picked up what appeared to be false eyelashes.  She ran glue along the edge and told him to close his eyes.  He wanted to protest again but she'd ignored everything up to now so there appeared to be no point.

When he opened his eyes again he felt the sweep of his long eye-lashes.  When he lowered his gaze he could see the voluminous false eye-lashes at the top of his sight.  The slight discomfort of the heavy eye-lashes seemed to make him blink more often which he knew must be enhancing the effect.

His mother clipped on some dangling silver ear-rings, slipped a few rings on his fingers, bracelets on his wrists and draped a necklace with shiny red stones.

His Aunt walked in just as he was pulled to his feet and was very pleased with the effect.  Frank just winced with the discomfort of his corset and high heels.  He involuntarily fluttered his eye-lashes embarrassingly.  He tottered across the room still disbelieving that anyone could walk in these shoes.  His suspenders and stockings stretched noticeably having slipped down while he was sitting. 

All over his body were strange feelings.  The earrings tugging at his ear lobes.  The rings on his fingers and the bracelets slipping up and down his wrists as he raised and lowered his hands.

He felt like a tightly wrapped and heavily decorated package – which did make him wonder about women presenting themselves to men like this.

"I've made the booking with the hairdressers", his Aunt announced.  Frank frowned.  Was that for him?  His mother handed him a black hand-bag and said "right, off we go!"

Frank was seriously reconsidering his desire to look more grown-up as he stumbled towards the door.  "Please Mum.  I was wrong.  I don't really want to look like this."

"Don't be silly dear", she dismissed him.  "We've spent over an hour getting you ready.  You're going to spend at least today dressed like you asked."

Frank couldn't envisage how he could spend a whole day trussed up in this corset, stockings and suspenders and high-heels.  "We've an appointment with the hairdresser, then we go shopping in the city, have lunch, more shopping and then I've booked a nice restaurant for this evening."  Frank winced.  It was clear he was stuck in this get-up until late that evening.

At the hairdressers he tried to follow what his mother was asking for but it was all a foreign language to him.  But his hair was washed lots of lotions were rubbed in and there was a little cutting, rollers were inserted and hairpins stuck in and he found himself with his head under a drier for what seemed like ages.

When everything was removed again he had quite stiff wavy hair and he was thoroughly depressed how convincing he looked now as a grown-up girl.  He clutched his hand-bag nervously as they walked him out of the hairdressers and into the rest of his day.

He'd never felt so uncomfortable in his life.  His corset dug into him, the suspender straps likewise and his heels were agony with all the walking around shops.  His eyes felt heavy with the false eye-lashes and even his earlobes aches from the clip-on earrings.

His mother and Aunt were most pleased though.  They loved the way the corset made him sit up straight, how the heels forced him to take short feminine steps, how the eyelashes made him flutter so much.  Frank was just mortified and his heavily dressed-up and made-up appearance was attracting plenty of unwanted attention.  But in the city he was miles away from the comfort of his home and the desperate thoughts of finally ending this torture.

But he did get home around 11pm.  He had looked forward more than anything to getting the damn high-heels off but when he did his foot was still molded into the unnatural shape and it took him several minutes to ease his feet back into walking flat on the ground.

He unclipped his stockings and finally untied the strings on his corset so he could breathe freely again.  It was such a good feeling.  When it was all removed he examined the various strap and string marks etched into his body.

He was never so relieved to get to bed – even if it meant wearing a pink nightie with matching panties.  But he worried about the next day.  He never wanted to wear stuff like that ever again but what would his mother say?

[DaraJaney]

When he awoke in the morning his mother came into the room.  "So what would you like to wear today?" she asked brightly.  She picked up the corset which had been resting on the back of the chair.  Frank eyed the corset nervously and panicked.  He really, really didn't want to wear that again.

He went over to the wardrobe and opened the double doors.  He quickly selected a younger looking dress in the hope of avoiding all the grown up torture.  He held out the yellow dress.  "Can I wear this please?"

His mother was clearly surprised.  "Really?" she asked, fingering the childish lace that trimmed the dress.  "I thought you wanted to look more grown up."  "I've changed my mind", he confirmed quickly.  It seemed like a reprieve was possible.

"Well, okay", she said dubiously.  She threw the yellow dress over him and it was only then that he realized there were layers of petticoats underneath the skirt.  But he was determined to avoid the uncomfortable grown-up look.  His mother zipped him up and he saw that the dress was quite short on him.  But it felt so comfortable hugging his skin without the intervention of a corset.

His Aunt walked in.  "He wants to wear this", his mother told her.  She looked at his girlish dress dubiously but said "very well".  Frank was relieved.  "We have some tights that will go nicely with that over here", she continued.  She opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of lacey white tights.

Frank cringed but then remembered the uncomfortable suspender straps.  Anything was better than that.  He reluctantly pulled the lacey white tights up under his petticoats.  He looked in the mirror.  His dress was so short and so much of his legs were exposed that the lacey tights seemed to go on and on.  Still, they felt so comfortable compared to the stockings.

Then he got to wear black t-bar shoes that had a two-inch heel.  Quite girly but a lot less uncomfortable than his high-heels.

He was conflicted when he looked in the mirror.  He looked so sissy in the yellow dress with its petticoats and his lacey white tights and black t-bar shoes.  But it all felt so much more comfortable than the previous day's attire as he smoothed down his petticoats.  He was certain he didn't want the corset, suspenders and heels again so he feigned satisfaction with his little girl look.

"I'm sure that dress had matching panties", his Aunt muttered, "ah yes here they are."  Frank frowned initially at the yellow panties with lines of lacey frills but didn't want to risk being back in a corset again so he meekly stepped into his frilly panties and pulled them up as far as he could under his petticoats.

His mother and Aunt stood back and didn't look all that happy.  Frank waited nervously for their verdict.  He tried to look as happy as he could in a sissy dress, petticoats, lacey tights and frilly panties.  He placed his hands on his petticoats daintily.

"That hair is all wrong now for those clothes", his mother commented.  He looked again in the mirror.  It did look odd.  A stiff wavy perm with the little girl clothes.  "But what can we do to change that new perm?" she wondered.  His Aunt opened another drawer.  "It will have to be this", she said as she held up a clutch of wires and pins.  Frank was puzzled.

But soon his hair was washed, smelly lotions had been rubbed in and his mother and aunt were rolling his hair onto the pins without any explanation to him.  When his hair was all tightly rolled up they covered his head with an opaque plastic cap, plugged the wires in and left him sitting there.

Frank sat there very concerned as the pins heated up.  He didn't like this at all.  But the women were gone and he could hear them in the kitchen with the radio on.  As the pins got hotter he got more worried.  He tried to get up and move nearer to the door to call out to them but he was tugged back painfully when the wires were stretched to their limit.  He had no choice but to sit there and wait.

There was no clock and it seemed like ages until they returned.  They unplugged him and removed the cap from his hair.  He watched carefully as they unrolled his hair from the pins.  His spirits fell as each tight ringlet was revealed and gradually he ended up with a head of hair like Shirley Temple.

His mother saw his crest-fallen look.  "Sorry but it's the only way we could erase the adult perm."  His Aunt brought over two yellow ribbons and they tied up bunches of ringlets either side of his head with big perky bows.

When he stood and faced the mirror his heart sank.  He could see that he was now the ultimate sissy.  Was this better than being trussed up in a corset?  He wasn’t so sure now.  He had to focus on the comfort of his cotton dress and the tights and shoes compared to the agony of the corset, suspenders and high-heels.

His mother studied him.  "I'm surprised that you chose that dress to wear.  I had expected you'd want to wear your boy's clothes again."

Frank's face fell.  "What? 
.  You mean 
."  Was she serious?  "You mean I could have asked to wear my old boy's clothes again?"

She seemed surprised at the question.  "Yes, of course.  I don't have to work in London this week so we could have gone home for a week at least ... oh, didn't I tell you?  Anyway, I asked you what you wanted to wear.  You chose this pretty dress."

His jaw dropped.  He thought back at what happened.  She was holding the corset when she asked and he had assumed she wanted him to wear grown-up girl's clothes again.  He was so desperate to avoid that and he'd never thought she was going to allow him wear trousers that he'd opted for the little girl dress.  "But why on EARTH would I WANT to wear this sissy dress?" he asked in incredulous tones holding out his petticoats to demonstrate.  Then he realized that he was showing his frilly panties and quickly smoothed his petticoats down again.

His mother shrugged.  "I just thought that you had grown to like wearing pretty dresses."  Frank just stared at her.  He couldn't believe it.  He looked in the mirror again.  He could be wearing trousers now instead of this yellow dress, lacey tights and frilly panties with his hair pressed into ringlets tied up with yellow bows.  He just had to hope he could stay out of sight.

"It's time for us to go to Church", his Aunt interjected looking at her watch.  Frank looked at her dumbstruck.  He was going to be paraded in front of the whole town looking like a sissier version of Shirley Temple!  And he could have been wearing trousers now if he'd only known.

He was distraught.  His mother led him out the door by the arm.  He was so despondent he didn't even try to steady his petticoats in the breeze even though it might mean his frilly panties showing.  What was the point?  He was going to be mortified either way.  He could feel his hair ribbons fluttering in the wind.  His ringlets dangled and his petticoats rocked as he walked down the road.

He saw the crowd arriving outside the church.  Heads turned in his direction.  He cringed.  There was no avoiding it now.  He was about to have the most humiliating experience of his life  ...  so far.

[DaraJaney]

Mrs Smiley saw them approach the church and came straight over.  “What a pretty dress!” she gushed.  Frank was mortified but had to smile and say “Thank you.”  He squirmed in his lacey tights as other mothers came over.  “It’s so lovely to see a girl who loves to wear pretty dresses!”  Frank tried to smile shyly and rest his hands daintily on his petticoats but he really wanted the ground to swallow and open him up.

He watched the mothers smile at his ringlets and pretty bows then they’d look down at his pretty tights and sigh, clearly wishing their daughters would tolerate being dressed like that.  A group of teenage girls in slacks observed from the side, nudging each other and smirking.  Frank heard snatches of their conversation: “OMG!  
. wouldn’t be seen dead  
  those sissy tights! 
 can you believe the ringlets? 
. What age is she anyway?”

His bows fluttered in the wind.  He reached up to steady them and his dress rode up.  That caused a burst of laughter from the girls.  “I don’t believe it .. matching frilly panties!”  Frank dropped his arms quickly and desperately tried to push his petticoats down.  But he could hear the girls titter and giggle.

Finally, his mother led them towards the door of the church.  The crowd practically stood back to watch them proceed.  His mother walked quite quickly and Frank tried to keep up but that made his petticoats sway dangerously so he desperately tried to keep them steady as he scampered along.

Of course his mother walked up to the front row so Frank had to sit with his back to the congregation always wondering every time he stood and sat again whether his petticoats were sticking up exposing his frilly panties.  Girls in the row behind were clearly amused by all the nervous attention he had to pay to his dress.

Outside after the service his mother was in no hurry to go so he stood around squirming in his dress and tights trying to ignore the sniggers and titters around him.  He attempted to keep looking forward, conscious that any turn of his head caused his ringlets to dangle and his bows to flutter but it was hard not to glance towards the source when he heard another burst of laughter.  He couldn’t help wondering what they would think if they thought for a minute that he was a boy!

Appearing in front of the whole town in a sissy dress and ringlets was bad enough but his sausage curls had to be tied up with ribbons every night before he went to bed.  Then every morning he had to spend at least an hour in front of the mirror untying his ringlets and then freshening them with a curling tongs.  It was hugely demoralising sitting in front of the mirror in a frilly dress and tights making himself look even more sissy before tying his curls up in perky ribbons.

Eventually the perming lotions wore off and by the following weekend his mother was able to use a hair straightener to get him back to something approaching normal.  That Sunday Mrs Smiley invited them over for afternoon tea.  The local schoolmistress, Mrs Hardright, was there.  She queried why “Cindy” wasn’t attending the local school.

Frank’s mother explained that ‘she’ was only staying here temporarily while she was busy in London.  But Mrs Hardright was quite insistent that ‘Cindy’ must attend school.  Frank had that now familiar sinking feeling.  Mrs Hardright was only too pleased to facilitate ‘Cindy’ attending her school.

The following morning Frank stood in front of what had become his least favourite place - the mirror.  He was wearing the regulation green plaid gymslip over a cream blouse.  He wore bottle green opaque tights and black t-bar shoes.  His lengthening hair was tied up with two green ribbons.

He tugged at the hem of his gymslip wishing the pleated skirt was longer.  It only went halfway to his knees.  He continued pleading with his aunt through breakfast but she was determined to pack him off to school.  Little Chris from next door was going to accompany him to the bus stop.  She went to the junior school.

Chris called to the door.  She was wearing the pink gingham junior school uniform and white ankle socks.  Frank was pushed out the door in his gymslip and tights, tugging at his hem as usual.

As they approached the main road they encountered others heading for school.  Frank noticed that most senior school girls wore grey trousers instead of his gymslip and tights.  There were several boys at the bus stop and they stopped their chatter as Frank approached and all eyes went to his legs.  He could see them looking upwards as far as his short hem.

He had to stand nervously with the boys behind him snickering.  When the bus finally came the boys jostled for position behind him.  When the doors opened Frank could see that they had to ascend three or four steps and the boys behind him were clearing hoping to see up his gymslip.  When he had to go the steps up he held the back of his pleated skirt in as far as he could.

The day didn’t get any better as he found that few girls wore the gymslip anymore and those that did, including him, got a lot of attention from the boys.

[DaraJaney]

On his second day at school his aunt was called in.  Mrs Hardright spoke to her in the office.  “I’m afraid that Cindy appears not to have studied most of the subjects that girls take here.  I don’t know what kind of school she was in but it doesn’t seem to have done any sewing, needlework , dressmaking or secretarial skills.  I’m afraid that I’ve had to put Cindy back into the junior school to catch up.”

“Whatever you think best”, his aunt replied.  Then there was a knock on the door.  “Come in!”  The door opened and Frank walked in.  He was wearing the pink gingham junior school uniform and white tights.  His hair had been twisted into pig tails on either side of his head and they were tied up with pink ribbons.

“This is the largest size uniform we have for the junior school”, Mrs Hardright explained as Frank tugged the flared skirt of his pink dress down as far as he could.  He was at least three years too old for junior school and the uniform was far too short.  “That’s fine, it will do”, his aunt assured the headmistress.  Frank cringed.  He had been desperately hoping his aunt would not agree to this but she didn’t demur in the least.

“I need you to sign this to confirm her assignment to the junior school for the rest of this year”, Mrs Hardright said.  Frank winced.  A whole year in this short pink gingham dress and white tights?!  But his aunt signed without a second thought.  He desperately needed his mother to finish her work in London soon so he could get home and out of dresses.

“We have optional extra courses if you are interested”, Mrs Hardright added.  “Embroidery, deportment, ballroom dancing for example.”  “Oh yes, I’d like to sign her up for those”, his aunt replied immediately.  Frank cringed but could say nothing.

“Off you go to your sewing class child”, Mrs Hardright instructed him.  Frank replied “Yes Mrs Hardright” in as girly a voice as he could and turned around quickly.  His pink dress swirled up and he had to stop and push it down again.  He needed to remember how short and flared it was.

At the end of his first week in junior school his mother came back from London looking quite excited.  “They’ve asked me to set up a branch in this town!”  His aunt was thrilled for her.  Frank was concerned what this meant.  “So we can stay living with you here”, his mother continued.  Frank cringed.  “But 
 but 
 that means I’ll have to continue 
 “, he could hardly bring himself to even say it, “ 
 dressing and going to school as a girl!”

“Oh sweetie but you make such a pretty girl” his mother told him, looking him up and down in his pink dress and white tights.  She reached up and straightened his pink bows.  That didn’t make him feel better at all.  “Please Mum, no!”

“I’ve already accepted the offer”, she informed them firmly.  Frank squirmed in his tights and started playing nervously with his pig tails.  But his mother had decided.  He was staying here as a girl.

About a month before Christmas Frank came home with a note from school.  He handed it glumly to his mother.  It said that the girls in his class were to perform in the school Christmas concert.  He needed to have a pink ballet tutu, pink tights and ballet shoes.  His mother tittered as she read the note and observed his mortification.

A couple of nights later Frank duly stood in his brand new pink tutu, pink tights and ballet shoes.  The tutu was extra stiff and stood out almost at right angles.  In the mirror he could see the bulge in his tights.  He pushed his tutu down at the front and that caused it to flip up at the back revealing his full pink bottom.

His aunt told him that, now that he was adept at sewing, he must sew frills across the crotch and bottom of his ballet dress to conceal the bulge.  Frank protested but his mother backed her up and soon he was sitting there unhappily sewing the frills on his tutu.

At the first rehearsal when they were all required to wear their ballet outfits, they were all lined up for inspection.  When Mrs Bendova came to Frank she took him out of line by the arm.

“I see that Cindy here has embellished her tutu!”  She pushed Frank’s back so that he had to bend over and she held up the back of his tutu so everyone could see the rows of frills.  “Beautiful!”  Frank could feel her tug at the rows of lace as the girls tittered in the line-up.

“That must take so long to do”, one of the girls asked, trying to make the moment last as long as possible.  “Did you sew the lace on yourself?” Mrs Bendova asked Frank running her fingers through his frills.  “Yes Mrs Bendova”, he replied, still bent over with the underside of his tutu and his pink frilly bottom facing the entire class.

“How long did it take?” the girl asked.  Frank was going to cry if he wasn’t allowed to lower his tutu soon.  “Two evenings sewing”, Frank replied remembering only too clearly the two dreadfully tedious evenings making his tutu even more sissy than it already was.

Eventually Mrs Bendova lowered his tutu and he was able to stand up and turn to face the girls who were almost crying with laughter.  One again he wondered how bad it would be if they realised he was actually a boy.  He tried to rest his arms on his stiff tutu in as girlish a fashion as possible.  It was mortifying having to act like this all day every day.

When they changed for the second dance rehearsal the hall was still occupied when they got there.  So Frank joined the line of girls in his pink tutu, pink tights and ballet shoes.   Just then the door to the boy’s changing room opened and the rugby team came out.  Frank sighed as he looked longingly at the way they trundled out in their rugby shirts and shorts and football boots.

He looked down at his pink tutu, couldn’t see but felt the warm embrace of his pink tights and cringed.  Then the door to the hall opened and the four girls in front of him – the most enthusiastic – trotted eagerly in the door.  He was pushed from behind and had to flounce along after them.  His tutu flopped up and down so he held the end of the skirt on either side to try to steady it.  But the front and back flounced up and down and he saw the boys smirk as they glimpsed the frills under his tutu.

That was bad enough.  If they ever found out that he was a boy he was fairly sure they would beat him senseless so again he had to flounce along in as sissy a fashion as possible while they clomped along in their football boots.

[DaraJaney]

Mrs Bendova was determined that the class would put up a good show for the Christmas concert and the second rehearsal overran as she drilled them over and over again.  Frank looked at his watch and realised that he was going to miss the bus home.  It was much too far to walk so he was going to have to get the bus in his pink tutu and tights!

He had just enough time pick up his bag, bending over to shove his school clothes into it with no time to think about his pink frilly bottom facing the class.  The bus was already at the stop so he had to run as fast as he could.  Again, there was no time to think of his tutu flopping up and down.

The last three boys to get on the bus saw him coming and grinned and waited to get on after him.  He was grateful that it meant the bus wouldn’t go without him but he knew only two well that their real motive was to follow him up the steps and see up his tutu.

His hands were full so there was nothing he could do to control his tutu as he boarded the bus.  His stiff skirt was wider than the door and bent up as he squeezed through.  He heard the boys snickering at his frilly bottom as they came up behind him.

There were no seats on the bus so Frank had to stand at the front.  When the bus started he almost fell over and had to reach up and grab a bar to steady himself.  With all the other children on the bus in their dark coloured school clothes, he really stood out in his pink tutu and pink tights.  All eyes were clearly on him.

When it came to the Christmas concert Frank had no chance of blending into the background.  He was about a foot taller than any girl in his class.  None of the girls took the dance teacher’s advice so he was also the only one with frills under his tutu.

When he flounced out on stage he saw his mother holding a video camera.  He winced as he lined up with the girls and they all curtsied.  The stage was raised a few feet and so the angle his mother was shooting from was bound to feature his frills prominently.  Then he noticed an entire row of parents with video cameras at the front.  His mother and aunt loved showing the video over and over as Frank squirmed seeing the audience’s view of his performance.

When it came to the weekend before Christmas his mother came into his room in the morning and shouted “surprise!”   Frank had come to hate surprises.  “Your first Christmas dress!” his mother said enthusiastically.  She held it up.  It was green with red fur lining and a fluffy white petticoat under the full skirt.  It came with red and green striped tights.

His mother was insistent that he wear it immediately for their trip to the Christmas market.  Frank was ridiculously old for such a sissy Christmas dress and drew lots of looks and sniggers in the crowded Christmas market.

When they passed Santa’s grotto a lady elf at the entrance gushed “what a pretty dress!”   Frank tried to smile and mutter “thank you” despite his mortification.  “You simply must visit Santa!” the elf insisted grabbing his hand.  Frank looked back to his mother desperately hoping for a reprieve but she was already handing the money over to the cashier.

Frank was led to the end of a short queue and he tried to steady his petticoats as all the mothers and little girls in front of him looked him up and down in his Christmas dress and tights.  They were clearly amused to see such an old girl queueing to see Santa in such a juvenile outfit.

When it came to his turn he tried to stand firmly beside Santa as he didn’t want to go up on his knee.  But Santa was too strong and just pulled him up anyway.  Frank sat in the middle of his mass of fluffy petticoats that were now clearly on view to all.  His stripey legs dangled over the side.

The camera flashed before Frank had a chance to arrange his petticoats properly and a present was pushed into his hands.  He looked dubiously at the big square parcel.  “Open it!” his mother insisted.  All eyes were on him and he had no choice.  He tore away the wrapping and sure enough there was a large Shirley Temple doll within.  It only reminded him of his days in ringlets.

So he had to walk around the Christmas market for the rest of the day clutching a large Shirley Temple doll as if his sissy dress with petticoats and striped tights wasn’t bad enough.

[DaraJaney]

Not surprisingly on Christmas Day when he sat at the foot of the tree among the petticoats of his Christmas dress, the rest of the presents turned out to be more dolls and sissy clothes.   â€œYou won’t have to go to Chris’s to play dolls anymore now you have your own!”  Frank looked at his four dolls and sighed.

Mrs Smiley and Chris came visiting.  Frank had to thank Mrs Smiley for the pretty doll she gave him and he clutched it pretending to like it.  She admired his Christmas dress and tights.  “How delightful!  I can’t get Chris to wear a dress at all now.”  Frank squirmed in his petticoats glaring at Chris jealously in her new pair of jeans.

Chris’s main present had been a computer tablet and she was engrossed in it.  Frank looked on with envy.  “Why don’t you play with Cindy and her new dolls?”, her mother asked.  “Dolls are stupid!” was the reply.  So Frank had to kneel in his dress, tights and petticoats beside the Christmas tree and pretend to love playing with his dolls while Chris was absorbed in the tablet.  Again cameras flashed recording his mortification for posterity.

It was traditional for children to bring their presents to church on Christmas morning so Frank flounced to church in his Christmas dress clutching the biggest of his new dolls.  Chris played games on her tablet as she walked along.  Outside the church a stream of neighbours complimented Frank on his pretty Christmas dress and his new dolly.  The local teenage girls gathered giving him withering looks and wondering how such an old ‘girl’ could wear such sissy clothes and walk around happily carrying a dolly.  Frank could do nothing but squirm in their gaze.

In the New Year his mother sold their house and moved all their belongings into his aunt’s.  Frank surveyed his old trousers and shirts wistfully.  “We should bring those to the Sale of Work next week”, his aunt suggested.  Frank was shocked.  “But then I’ll only have dresses and skirts!”  His mother looked at him with surprise.  “But that’s all you’ll need for the foreseeable future.”  Frank was crestfallen.  When was he ever going to get out of dresses and tights and back into trousers?

His mother volunteered him to be on the second hand clothes table at the sale of work.  So Frank had to hand over his precious trousers and shirts for pittances as he squirmed in a lemon dress and white tights enduring the admiration of all the local ladies.

At the end of the sale there were only a few items left unsold, one of which was one of his pairs of trousers.   Another item was a pink frilly party dress – obviously just too sissy for anyone to buy.  The lady who brought that dress went to retrieve it and was accompanied by her son, about Frank’s age.  Frank’s mother intervened.  “Would you like to swap that dress for these trousers?” she asked.

Frank froze.  He had hoped to save one pair of trousers at least.  “His mother held the pink dress up against him.  “It will be perfect for Chris’s birthday party next week.”  The other lady agreed, relieved to get rid of the risible dress and so Frank had to hand her his last remaining trousers in return for a frilly pink dress that he was going to have to wear soon.  “Your pink ballet tights will go perfectly with it.”  Frank cringed.

On the eve of the birthday party his mother showed Mrs Smiley his pink dress.  “I’m not sure that many girls come to parties in party dresses anymore, sadly”, she observed.  “Well Cindy is just dying to wear this aren’t you?”  Frank tried to smile and look enthusiastic about his latest humiliation.

He stood in front of the mirror trying to smooth the petticoats of his frilly pink dress.  He had to bend over and straighten some wrinkles in his pink tights.  His mother walked in the door and saw the pink frilly pettipants she’d bought for him as he leaned forward.  He straightened up quickly.

Then he saw what his mother was clutching – the heated curling pins.  “No Mum please!”  But he had to sit there as his hair was pressed into ringlets knowing that he would have all the hassle of managing the ringlets for the next week!

Eventually he flounced into the party clutching his petticoats to find very few girls wearing dresses at all – let alone sissy party dresses.  He saw all the other mothers smile at his pink dress and tights and his sausage curls tied up in fluffy pink bows.  Frank took a deep breath.