Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Sissy Story Archives (older stories) => Pre-2011 Sissy Stories => Topic started by: DaraJaney on April 09, 2007, 06:54:03 AM
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Gabriel and Laura were enjoying the first day of the holidays. Finally, the school uniforms could be put away for the summer. Laura was grateful that the school did not make girls wear skirts, which she hated, but she was none-the-less relieved to be out of those grey trousers and into jeans.
But their joy was disrupted before too long. “We’re going to visit Granny tomorrow”, their mother announced. Both of her children froze. Gabriel looked at Laura. He sighed at the thought of having to wear the jacket and tie that his mother insisted he put on for visits to Granny. His only consolation was the thought that his sister was going to be even more embarrassed.
Laura sat there thinking that surely her mother wouldn’t make her wear that pink dress her Granny bought for her years ago. She was fourteen now and that dress was embarrassing enough when she first wore it. Gabriel smirked at her and she sneered back at him.
Nothing more was said until the afternoon when her mother took out the pink satin dress. Gabriel grinned, looking forward to seeing his younger sister in the humiliating outfit. “Mum! You can’t possible make me wear that again”, Laura pleaded. Her mother didn’t entertain any protests. “I took a lot of trouble last year to let the dress out so that it still fit you. We can get another year out of it.”
Laura stamped her foot and winced. “You know the story”, her mother reminded her casually. “No pocket money and suspension of all privileges.” Laura sighed heavily. This was ridiculous.
Gabriel was chuckling to himself. “YOU can shut up for a start”, Laura growled. “It’s always nice to see you dressed like a proper girl”, he told her, looking sourly at her jeans.
“Girls don’t dress like that anymore”, Laura complained. “Well they SHOULD”, Gabriel insisted. “What are you on about?” she asked incredulously.
“It’s your place to look pretty”, Gabriel teased, “as the weaker sex.” His mother looked at him crossly but let them continue sparring. “Weaker sex?” Laura practically screeched. “That’s a joke coming from you!”
Gabriel was affronted. “What do you mean?” “You’re nothing but a wimp”, Laura scoffed. It was true that Gabriel no longer picked fights at school because he inevitably lost but he wasn’t going to take this from a girl a year younger than him.
The banter continued between the two of them until Laura challenged him to an arm wrestle. “Don’t be silly”, he blurted, insulted at the idea of having to arm wrestle his little sister. “Scared that you’ll lose!” she taunted him. “Don’t be daft.” He picked up his biker magazine and tried to ignore the challenge. His mother was interested in this and folded her arms on her chest while she watched them
“Yes, let’s have an arm wrestle”, Laura persisted, “and the loser has to wear the dress to Granny’s.” Her mother sniggered. “For goodness sake!” Gabriel threw his eyes up.
But Laura was warming to her idea. “You’re afraid to, aren’t you?” Gabriel shook his head and laughed. But she persisted. “Well, it’s hardly a fair bet”, he countered. “You have to wear the dress anyway. You’ve nothing to lose” “Alright”, Laura blurted and left the room. Gabriel gave his mother a puzzled look.
Laura returned a few moments later. She held up a pair of white patterned tights and a pair of ankle socks with pink frilly lace around the tops. She also had a pair of white gloves with stiff lace at the wrists. In her other hand was a pair of pink t-bar shoes. She hadn’t worn any of these items in years. “If I lose I’ll wear these”, she declared, “and I’ll tie my hair up in pink ribbons.”
Gabriel was interested now. He would love to see his sister humiliated in these clothes. And all he had to do was beat her in an arm wrestle. Then he remembered that she had become very good at hockey while he was not sporty at all. Could she actually beat him? He didn’t want to concede that it might be possible but he wished he could be more certain. It wasn’t worth the risk.
He laughed off the idea again. “You think you’re going to lose!” she declared and laughed out loud. “Go away”, he blurted out impatiently and his sister realised that she had hit a nerve.
“Just wait until I tell my friends that you were afraid to arm wrestle me! Just wait until I tell YOUR friends”, she scoffed. Gabriel didn’t like the idea of that at all. It friends teased him mercilessly whenever got a chance. He stood up and threw down his magazine. “Alright, shut up already.”
Laura was delighted at his acceptance of the challenge. This disturbed him a lot. She seemed to be confident of winning. He looked at the sissy clothes again. He knew that she would absolutely hate to have to wear them but she seemed unconcerned about that.
His mother intervened at this point. “OK. So if you lose you have to wear these”, she reminded Gabriel, holding up the tights in front of him. He looked at the dangling white legs of the tights and scoffed “that’s not going to happen.”
Laura was already sitting at the table rolling up her shirt sleeve eagerly. Gabriel sighed and tried his best to feign confidence that this was just a formality. He sat down opposite Laura and rolled up his sleeves impatiently.
They grasped hands. Laura was smiling confidently at him. She looked at the dress and grinned. Gabriel couldn’t help himself but glance nervously at the frilly dress and he suppressed a frown.
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“Go”, his mother shouted and now there was no going back. Gabriel pushed with all his might and was disturbed that he made no impact. Instead, Laura slowly bent his arm back. Her smile broadened as she continued to make progress. She could now picture her brother in the dress and tights. Once the thought of losing came into his head, the thought that he might actually have to wear that dress, he completely crumpled and his arm hit the table. He jumped up in shock as his sister held her hands over her head in triumph.
She jumped up and danced around the room. His mother held the dress up to him with a big smile on her face. “I wasn’t ready”, he protested lamely. They just laughed. “You’ll look lovely”, his mother mockingly reassured him.
For the rest of Saturday they teased him about how pretty he was going to look the next day. His mother taunted him by holding up strands of his long hair and telling him how gorgeous it would look curled. His sister was beside herself.
He didn’t sleep much that night. Surely they were not going to make him go through with this.
The next morning his mother and sister burst into his room early. They threw open the curtains, partially blinding him. His sister came straight for him with the dress as he stumbled out of the bed.
“Please Mum”, he begged as the two of them threw the dress over his head. “You know the story”, she told him firmly. “No pocket money or privileges if you don’t do what you’re told.” Laura sniggered.
His mother pushed his arms into the sleeves of the dress. Laura zipped him up quickly before he could put up any more resistance. His mother fluffed out the petticoats under the dress – his dress, as it was now. He looked in the mirror. He was taller than his sister and the dress was very short on him. He tried to push down the petticoats but they sprang back up into shape again. He had always wondered what made her dress stay in that shape. Laura was amused at his futile attempts to push his dress down.
His mother was rolling up the tights. He winced at the sight. His sister pushed him down on the bed and they put the tights over his two feet. He felt sick as they pulled the tights up his legs and over his briefs.
Then his sister shook out a pair of pink satin panties with three rows of lace across the bum. “No!” he blurted before Laura determinedly pulled the panties over his feet and up under his dress and over his tights. He looked at his mother hoping for a reprieve. “They go with the dress”, she reasoned. He stood up and looked in the mirror. At least the frilly panties were safely out of sight up under his dress, he figured.
Before he had any chance to protest further, they pulled the frilly socks on over the tights. Laura fluffed out the lace tops and stood up to take in the sight properly.
His mother took the pink shoes and pushed them onto his feet. He had always teased his sister about her big feet. It was coming back to haunt him now. His mother buckled the shoes.
They pulled him up off the bed and made him stand in front of the mirror. His mother handed him the white gloves and he reluctantly put them on. They were delighted with how he looked. They were highly amused by the sad look on his face. “Oh now, you look so pretty”, his mother teased. “Except, he still looks like a boy”, his sister noted.
Gabriel looked at his face and realised that she was right. He looked like a boy in a frilly pink dress. He would be mortified if anyone saw him like this. He would have to sit in the car on the two hour journey and he wondered what people would think if they looked in and saw him.
His mother held up a few strands of his hair again. “Well, if we do your hair like a girl’s then it won’t be so obvious that you are a boy.” Gabriel winced at the idea. But he was forced to accept that it might be considerably more humiliating if people could see his true gender.
His mother could see that he was considering it. “Will we do your hair like a girl?” He couldn’t believe that he was going to do this but he nodded his head.
He was propelled down to the kitchen where they made him sit in a chair with his back to the sink. His sister was in her element now. They pushed his head back over the sink, tucked towels around his neck and washed his hair.
He sat in the middle of the kitchen while they worked on him. He was frustrated that there was no mirror. They rubbed all sorts of foul-smelling lotions in his hair. Then they tugged and pulled as they worked on his hair with regular little yelps coming from him.
A couple of hours later they hauled him excitedly over to a mirror. He couldn’t believe his eyes. His hair was done up in sausage curls that were all tied up in pink ribbons. “Mum!” he protested much too late. They laughed delightedly at his reaction.
He was left standing disbelievingly in front of the mirror while they prepared themselves to leave. He looked at his frilly pink dress. He pulled at the hem and saw the lace-trimmed petticoat underneath. He dropped the hem again, not wishing to see anymore detail.
His eyes scanned down the length of his legs in the white tights. He looked sadly at the frilly lace on his socks and then at his pink shoes.
Suddenly he was pulled away from the mirror. His sister had some make-up powder and a brush. She dabbed at his face. He was taken aback but figured that it should make sure that nobody would suspect that he was a boy.
When she was finished she let him look in the mirror again. His cheeks were a rosy red. He looked down in embarrassment and picked at the lace on his gloves.
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Next thing he was propelled towards the front door. He wasn’t ready for this and tried desperately to dig his heels in. His mother opened the door and within seconds he was standing outside the house looking up and down the street nervously. He looked down at his dress and smoothed out his skirts self-consciously.
The door clicked shut and his heart sank with the realisation that there was no going back. With all the fuss, he had managed to avoid the thought that he was going to have to spend the whole day dressed like this.
His eyes started to tear up with the frustration and helplessness of his situation. He looked down ashamedly at the lace on his white gloves. His ringlets dangled either side of his face further reminding him of his ultra-sissy appearance.
The women strode towards the car and looked back amusedly at Gabriel who was rooted to the spot. Reluctantly he walked towards the car. He opened the back door and stood wondering how he was going to manage his petticoats and dress. His sister watched with interest to see how he would manage.
He gathered his petticoats and sat into the car. Laura laughed. “You’re a natural”, she teased as she sat in. His mother started the car and pulled away. Gabriel looked back at the house and watched sadly as he was driven away from his boy’s clothes.
Each time another car pulled up beside them at traffic lights, Gabriel tried to sit looking directly ahead, ignoring any looks he might be getting. But soon curiosity got the better of him and he tried glancing across. He was sorry that he did. He was getting all sorts of puzzled looks from the people in other cars. They were inevitably laughing by the time the cars pulled away again.
He realised that even if he was a fifteen year old girl, he looked ridiculous in the pink satin dress and ringlets. And the people in the other cars couldn’t even see his white tights, frilly ankle socks and pink shoes – never mind his matching frilly knickers that he was oh-so-conscious of, even though they were unseen under his dress.
When the car pulled in to the driveway of his Granny’s house, he braced himself for her reaction. Granny came out the door immediately. Laura jumped out of the car and eagerly awaited her brother’s first exhibition.
She was aware of her Granny’s disappointed look as she stared at her jeans. Then she looked curiously into the back of the car. Gabriel was frozen in the back seat. Laura opened the door for him helpfully.
Gabriel swung a leg out and stepped onto the gravel. His Granny saw the lace-trimmed ankle sock first and a curious look spread across her face. Gabriel stepped out and smoothed down his dress and petticoats at the back. He stared at the gravel before gradually raising his eyes to look at his astonished Granny. She looked uncertainly at Laura.
“Meet your new granddaughter … Gabrielle”, Laura announced proudly. Her Granny looked back again at the boy. She pointed at him with mouth agape. “Is that …?”
All three women were doubled over with laughter when his Granny finally twigged that it was really Gabriel. He stood there looking down at his dress, trying to rise above it all – in vain.
It was ages before his Granny recovered. She took his hand and led him into the house, still wheezing with amusement.
They went into the lounge and she motioned Gabriel to sit on an arm-chair. He sat down but had to stand again and smooth his petticoats under his bottom before sitting again, much to their amusement.
His mother explained what had happened while Laura looked at him amusedly and Gabriel tried desperately to look as dignified as possible in his frilly dress, white tights and lacey socks.
There was a tray with glasses and a jug of lemonade on the coffee table. Granny invited them to partake. Laura went over and poured four glasses. She took one and sat down. The two women took their glasses and they all looked at Gabriel. He would have preferred to stay where he was but eventually he stood, walked over and picked up the remaining glass.
“Oh, he’s wearing the matching panties”, his Granny blurted out from behind him. Gabriel straightened up suddenly and embarrassedly smoothed down his dress at the back. The women all laughed.
Gabriel sat there counting the minutes while the women talked. He looked up suddenly on hearing his Granny talk about the table she had reserved for lunch in the local hotel. He winced at his mother but she just smiled at the prospect of parading him in front of the locals.
When the others rose to go, Gabriel stayed rooted to his seat, desperate to avoid his public appearance. Eventually he stood and gave his mother a pleading look. He twisted one of his sausage curls in his fingers in an attempt to remind her why he was so reluctant to go out in public. His mother just smiled and walked towards the front door.
So Gabriel had to walk into the crowded dining room at the local hotel in his sissy pink dress with his pink-ribboned ringlets dancing around his head. There was a noticeable drop in the conversations as he wound his way between the tables.
They were led to a table in the centre of the room and Gabriel sat there for two hours trying to ignore the amused looks on the faces of the people at the neighbouring tables.
To his right, he found it impossible to ignore the withering look from an eight-year-old girl who clearly wouldn’t be seen dead in the dress he was wearing.
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He was so relieved to be back in his Granny’s house. But his mother suggested that they must take lots of photos of Gabriel in his pretty clothes. He protested like mad, concerned that these photos might be produced at any time in the future to mortify him.
But his mother insisted that he sit out in the sun on a garden bench. His sister fussed over his petticoats to get them just right. He didn’t realise it but she was ensuring that some of the lace-trim showed. He grew annoyed as she adjusted his ringlets but she slapped away any attempt by him to intervene.
They instructed him how to sit forward but with his knees pressed together and tilted to one side and his pink shoes pointed perfectly at just the right angle. He was instructed not to move an inch once they got him in the most daintily demure pose.
He felt sick as the camera clicked and his mother and sister stood there smiling at his appearance. That was it. He was photographed now. They would never let him forget this.
Inside he sat demurely in the armchair as tea and cakes were served. His mother took care to spread a napkin on his lap to protect his dress. He looked at the clock every few minutes wondering when his ordeal would end.
“Those sausage curls are adorable”, his Granny commented. Gabriel tried to ignore the comment. “How long will that perm last?” He looked up with concern and then looked at his mother. “It will probably only hold …”, his mother answered while looking at Gabriel somewhat guiltily, “for a couple of weeks.” Gabriel was horrified. She smiled sweetly at him. He looked at his sister who was laughing heartily.
“I think you might like to stay here with Granny for the two weeks”, his mother suggested. Gabriel looked from one to the other to see if they were joking. “That would be great!” his Granny reacted enthusiastically.
Gabriel just wanted to get home and out of the dress at the first opportunity. “Or you could come home – I’m sure that your friends will be delighted to see your sausage curls when they call over tomorrow.”
Gabriel checked on his curls at the edge of his vision. They looked as firm as they did this morning. He realised that they were not joking. He was stuck with this sissy hairstyle. His pals would find this hysterical.
His mother and sister stood to go. Gabriel sat dejectedly, realising that he was going to have to stay with his Granny for a couple of weeks.
As the others left the room his Granny turned towards him. “Come out and see your mother and sister off.” Gabriel sighed. He stood and smoothed down his petticoats.
Outside he stood in the driveway as his mother and sister got into the car. The breeze played with the lace trim of his petticoats. He clasped his white-gloved hands and rested them on his dress as his mother started the car.
The car pulled away leaving Gabriel standing there is his pink dress. He couldn’t believe the situation he was in. He looked down. He had to press down his petticoats to get another look at his lace-trimmed socks and his white tights. How had he ended up in this situation?
His Granny walked into the house and he followed, his petticoats rocking back and forth as he strode towards the house.
There was hardly a peep out of him all evening as he sat around dejectedly, wondering what the fortnight would hold for him. Would there be any trousers around that he could wear? He looked around the house at the flowery curtains, the lacey trimmings on all the furniture and he didn’t get his hopes up.
At bedtime his Granny showed him up to his mother’s old room. She had kept it just as it was when his mother was a girl. He looked around the room with sinking emotions. It was all decorated in pink and white. Half a dozen dolls were propped up on the lace-trimmed pillows on the bed.
His Granny opened a drawer and took out a nightdress. She laid the lemon garment out on the bed. Then she placed a pair of matching panties beside it. Gabriel stood rooted to the spot. “I’ll leave you to it”, his Granny said. “The bathroom is down the corridor. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
She left the room and Gabriel flopped down dejectedly on the side of the bed not caring how his petticoats creased beneath him. He unbuckled his shoes and pulled off the ankle socks. He pulled down his panties and then removed his tights. He draped the tights over the back of a chair and stared at them not quite believing that he had worn them all day – and in public.
He struggled to reach the zip on his dress but eventually was able to pull it down and step out of the dress. He looked at the nightdress on the bed. He didn’t want to put it on but realised that he needed to go to the bathroom. He pulled on the lemon nightie. It was very short and his boy’s briefs were clearly visible underneath. He peeled them off and pulled on the matching panties.
As he walked down the corridor towards the bathroom, he tugged at the hem of his nightie but it just wasn’t long enough to cover his panties. He was very self-conscious bending over to brush his teeth.
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He went back to his bedroom and looked around. Surely there would be something less embarrassing to wear in bed. He opened a drawer. There were nighties of various pastel shades but no pajamas and nothing any less effeminate than what he was wearing.
He opened another drawer. It was full of tights. He couldn’t help himself but hold up a couple of pairs and he discovered that some of them were individual stockings with lace-tops or fancy bows. He closed the drawer quickly, trying not to think of having to wear such things.
He tentatively opened another drawer. It was full of frilly panties and slips. He rummaged a little trying to find a plain pair of panties but all of them were frilly.
He decided not to open any more drawers. He looked at the wardrobe. He might be better off waiting until morning before looking at what he might have to wear tomorrow. But he was too curious. He stood in front of the wardrobe and took the door handles in both hands. Would there be any trousers in there?
He pulled open the doors. The wardrobe was tightly packed with brightly coloured dresses all of which seemed to be elaborately adorned with lace or netting. He closed the doors again and sighed.
His Granny burst in. He cringed as she saw him standing there in just his nightie and panties. “I nearly forgot”, she said. “We’ll have to tie up your curls for the night.” Gabriel looked frustratingly at the sausage curls in the mirror. He would much prefer not to do anything to preserve them but his Granny sat him down in front of the mirror, put a box of curlers on the dressing table and set to work. “Watch carefully”, she told him, “you’ll have to do this yourself every other night.” So Gabriel had to watch carefully as his sausage curls were wound tightly into his scalp.
Early the next morning his Granny stormed into the room and threw open the curtains. He stirred in the bed but was reluctant to get out. He tugged at the hem of his short nightie before his Granny pulled back the sheets.
She threw open the wardrobe. “Right, what do you want to wear dear?” She browsed through the dresses. He looked unenthusiastically at the selection. No trousers had magically appeared since last night.
He stood in front of the wardrobe still tugging on the hem of his nightie. “Do you have any trousers?” he asked tentatively. “Don’t be silly! You’d look silly in trousers with your hair in pretty ringlets.” Look silly? Just how silly did he look anyway?
She was insistent that he had to select his dress himself. He looked along the rack trying to find the least frilly, the least effeminate and, then he remembered, the least short. All of the skirts seemed to stick out at a great angle.
Eventually he picked a powder blue dress – this being the least sissy colour he could find. It had white piping but seemed to be mercifully free of lace trimmings. His Granny whipped it over to the bed and laid it out. He watched as she moved around the room selecting accessories for him. She took out a pair of panties that were white but had a powder-blue lace trim. She laid out a pair of white knee-high socks for him. They were better than tights, he thought. Then she pulled out a pair of black Mary Janes.
“Don’t forget your curls”, she reminded him. He looked crossly in the mirror at the tightly packed rollers in his hair. He sat in front of the mirror and unrolled each one. He was not pleased to find his sausage curls almost perfectly preserved.
When he was done with that and his full head of ringlets was restored his Granny produced two powder blue ribbons. “Now tie your ringlets up on either side with these.” Gabriel sighed and wondered did he really have to. “If you don’t tie them back, they will get in your way all day”, she explained to him. He took one of the ribbons reluctantly. It took several attempts but his Granny was determined that he needed to learn to do this for himself. Eventually he was able to tie them up with perfectly shaped bows.
He put on the dress, panties, socks and shoes. It was only when he looked in the mirror that he noticed the lace-trimmed single layer of petticoat peeping out from under his dress. He tried to adjust his dress but it became obvious that it was designed to show off the petticoat. His Granny instructed him to come down for breakfast and he took one last frustrated look in the mirror.
He went to close the wardrobe door. He looked ruefully at the line of pretty dresses. It was obvious now that he was going to have to wear nothing but dresses and skirts for two whole weeks! He pressed his knees together instinctively wishing he could wear trousers, even for a little while.
He went down the stairs. Usually he would race down or even slide down the banister if he was sure his mother would not see him. But now he was anxious to take his time so that his short dress would not billow out too much. He wondered what someone standing at the bottom of the stairs would see.
Suddenly his Granny appeared at the bottom and looked up. He stopped and tried to push his dress down. She smiled with great amusement. He wasn’t sure if she’d seen his panties or not – he must have looked pretty ridiculous either way.
As he rounded the foot of the stairs he stopped suddenly when confronted with an almost identically attired little girl. She even had the same ringlets but when he saw her ringlets dangle in unison with those out of the corner of his eyes, he realised that he was looking in a mirror. He was still so unused to his own new appearance.
He sat at a table while his Granny prepared breakfast. He felt so stupid sitting there is the dumb dress. Every time he moved his head a little, he felt the weight of his sausage curls dangling at the side of his head. His Granny pottered around the kitchen as if everything was perfectly normal.
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When they were finished breakfast, she told him to do the washing up. He walked towards the sink but she intercepted him, holding up a flowery apron. “We don’t want to get your pretty dress wet do we?”
Once that was done, Gabriel idled around the kitchen, already bored. His Granny told him to go up to his room and get some books or magazines to read. There were bookshelves in the corner and stacks of magazines on a table.
The books were all girly reads: Enid Blyton, “Little Women”, “Alice in Wonderland”. He looked at the magazines. Dozens and dozens of issues of “Bunty” and “Mandy”. He sighed heavily. His Granny called out to ask what was keeping him. He took a couple of books and magazines at random and went downstairs.
His Granny was sowing something and he sat down opposite and pretended to read the books. She looked over at him regularly and he realised that he had better look convincing so he turned pages at regular intervals.
“What’s that one about?” she asked after a while. He claimed that it hadn’t become clear yet but it was obvious he was going to have to actually read the damn thing.
After half-an-hour at the book, he was thoroughly bored so he put it down and picked up a magazine. Apart from the really sissy stories, there were tips on hair care and make-up. Normally he would scoff at such things but he was a little more curious than usual, given that his hair was now in ringlets and yesterday he’d worn a little blush.
Unfortunately, his Granny noticed his interest in those pages and dragged him upstairs where she sat him in front of his dressing table. She then fetched some spare items of make-up from her own room.
She taught him how to apply foundation and blush. He was sorry now that he had shown any interest but it passed the time anyway. His Granny produced pink nail polish and despite his protests, he was soon sitting there with his fingers spread out waiting for his painted nails to dry.
No sooner were his pink nails dry than she told him that they had to go into town to do some shopping. He begged to be allowed stay at home but she insisted that she needed help with the bags.
He stood in the driveway clutching his dress and petticoat against the fresh breeze while she reversed the car from the garage. When he opened the door she looked disapprovingly down at his knees. “Pull up your socks”, she ordered him crossly. He looked down and his white socks had slipped down no more than in inch below his knees. He didn’t see what the fuss was about but he bent down and pulled his socks up anyway.
As they walked around the supermarket aisles, Gabriel was very conscious of the peculiar looks he was getting. Women and girls in particularly smirked at his very childish appearance and he could hear tittering once they were out of sight. He just hoped that they didn’t realise that he was a boy.
His Granny took ages and he just wished she would hurry up. At one point, she looked disapprovingly down at his knees again. He sighed but bent over and pulled up his socks again. This was immediately followed by a burst of laughter behind him. He turned around and two ten-year-old boys were having a good snigger, having obviously been treated to a glimpse of his panties.
Once the bags were packed into the car, Gabriel reached anxiously for the passenger door. “No, we’ll have lunch here”, his Granny told him. He followed her frustratingly to a coffee shop. She selected the table in the front window.
The waitress could barely suppress her amusement at Gabriel’s appearance. “Why, what a pretty dress.” He suspected that she had somehow spotted that he was a boy but he wasn’t sure. He decided that he had better be careful to behave like a girl. He looked downwards shyly. “You don’t often see teenage girls wearing such pretty dresses anymore”, she persisted. “Oh Gabrielle here just loves her dresses and never wears anything else”, his Granny told her. Gabriel cringed but tried to maintain his shy smile.
He sat there while they waited for their meal, trying to ignore the double-takes from many passers-by. One girl stared quite rudely and returned with a couple of friends a few minutes later. Over his Granny’s shoulder he saw them mimic curtsies and play with their hair to mock his ringlets. He looked away.
He was almost relieved to get back to his girly books and magazines but it wasn’t long before he was bored again. He looked idly at his Granny sitting opposite. She was working on some embroidery. Unfortunately, she took his glance as a show of interest and insisted on demonstrating the art to him. Next thing he was sitting there threading a needle through fabric in the first of many embroidery lessons.
His Granny wanted to take a stroll in the park in the late afternoon and while he was reluctant to go out in public again, at least it would be a break from his girly books and embroidery.
At the duck pond a neighbour came over to them with her ten-year-old daughter. “Mrs. Grainger”, his Granny greeted her, “and Rachel”. Mrs Grainger looked expectantly at Gabriel with a polite smile clearly anxious to be introduced. His Granny duly obliged. Mother and daughter were clearly as amused by his appearance as every one else. He was almost becoming used to it.
“Rachel is having a birthday party tomorrow”, Mrs. Grainger told them. “Would Gabrielle like to come?” Gabriel was surprised by this. There was no way he wanted to go to a little girl’s birthday party. “Of course she would”, his Granny replied immediately.
Rachel was clearly delighted at the positive response. Gabriel suspected that he was being invited to be the entertainment as much as anything.
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The next day Gabriel pouted as his Granny fussed over his mother’s apricot party dress. She tied the sash tightly around his waist in a big bow at the back. “But girls don’t wear dresses like this to parties anymore”, he protested, holding out his skirts in disgust. “Of course they do”, she insisted, “people always dress up for parties.”
He was relieved that, although the dress had a huge skirt, it didn’t have any petticoats underneath to make it stand out. He turned from the mirror though to see his Granny holding a three-layer organza separate petticoat. She fluffed out each layer as best she could. She made Gabriel step into the petticoat and pulled it up under his dress.
Now his skirts were well puffed out and the petticoats made the dress look shorter much to his chagrin. Next thing his Granny was holding up a pair of white opaque tights. Gabriel cringed again. He tried to think of any excuse. “But Granny”, he whined, “it’s a very hot day – I’ll be all hot and sticky if I wear …”, he could hardly bring himself to even say the word, “… tights”, he finally muttered under his breath.
She looked out the window at the clear blue skies. She was thinking about it. “I suppose you are right”, she conceded. He was delighted at his tiny victory after days of one set back after another.
She rummaged in the drawer again and took out a pair of white stockings. Gabriel frowned again on seeing these. They looked much longer than the knee-socks he had been hoping for. Oh my gawd, he thought, to think that I’d actually be pleased to wear knee-socks!
As his Granny brought the stockings over to him he noticed that they were threaded at the top with cream ribbon. She handed him one stocking to put on. He hesitated, trying desperately to think of an excuse not to, but he’d probably used up all his luck getting out of having to wear the tights.
He pulled the stocking up his left leg, holding his dress and petticoats up with his elbows, and it reached right up to his thigh. “Now tie the ribbon in front with a bow to hold the stocking up”, his Granny instructed him. He did what he was told. Already he was getting quite good at making cute bows. He looked with dismay at the snow-white stocking tied up with the pretty cream bow before he lowered his petticoats again. He reckoned these were even worse than wearing tights. He even briefly considered asking if he could wear the tights after all.
His Granny handed him the second stocking and he had to repeat the procedure. She was delighted with the end result and made him stand there for a few seconds holding his petticoats up so she could admire his stockings tied up with ribbons.
He lowered his petticoats and turned towards the mirror. They covered his stocking tops alright. He pinched his dress with his forefingers and thumbs and raised his petticoats a tiny bit. He could see the ends of the ribbons and so dropped his petticoats again, sorry that he had looked.
His Granny also insisted on making him wear frilly ankle socks over the white stockings. He pleaded that he’d never seen a girl over eight wear such things but she just laughed it off.
She produced a pair of black t-bar shoes. These had a fairly high heel on them and he stumbled forward a little when he stood at first. She made him walk up and down a few times to practice. He already felt sore as his toes were pushed down into the front of the shoe. He was glad he didn’t have to wear these all the time.
His Granny watched him walk. “Those shoes make you take nice short dainty steps”, she commented. “You must wear them more often.” He sighed with frustration as his feet really began to hurt.
She sat him in front of the mirror again. She produced a curling tongs. He blurted a desperate “but Granny!” wanting to ask how his ringlets were supposed to disappear after two weeks if she kept renewing them. But she already had one sausage curl wrapped around the tongs and a painful tug stopped him short.
She re-set a number of his sausage curls and then handed him the tongs to do the rest. He couldn’t believe that he was going to have to tighten up his ringlets himself but it looked silly with some freshly pressed and others hanging loose. He wound a sausage curl around the tongs and sat there grumpily while it set.
Once his ringlets were done and tied up with apricot ribbons, she told him to powder and blush his cheeks. He dabbed a little blush on but she wasn’t satisfied. “You need a healthier look than that”, she insisted and took the brush from him. When she was finished his cheeks seemed to burn red.
She handed him lacey white gloves and then produced a little purse that matched his dress perfectly. She clicked it open and popped in the little present they had bought for Rachel. Then she put in a delicate lacey handkerchief and clicked it shut.
She made him stand up and admire himself in the mirror. He still tottered a little in the high heels. He looked at himself with dismay. He looked like the prettiest little eight-year-old girl he had ever seen - which would have been fine if he wasn’t a fifteen-year-old boy. He clutched his purse tightly, praying that his Granny would realise the humiliation she was about to put him through. He looked at her with what he reckoned was his most pleading look possible. She just smiled and walked to the door.
He walked down the stairs carefully, afraid of falling in the heels. At the foot of the stairs she told him she wasn’t quite ready herself. He stood there in front of the mirror, shifting from one painful foot to the other. He waggled the raised foot each time trying to relieve the pain induced by it being wedged into this unnatural angle.
-
“You can practice your curtsey in the mirror while you are waiting”, his Granny called from the front room. He frowned wondering exactly what a curtsey was. He remembered the girls outside the coffee shop – was that what they were doing?
His Granny appeared at the door to watch him practice. He just stood there and looked at her. She demonstrated a curtsey. He sighed and clutched his dress with his free hand. “Granny! Please!” “Just when you arrive”, she said. “You have to curtsey when you’re wearing such a pretty dress.” Gabriel looked in the mirror and considered it. “And whenever anyone compliments you on your dress”, she continued. “Go on.”
He gave a half-hearted dip of his right knee but she made him practice several times until he finally did a deep sweeping curtsey. “That’s right”, she confirmed finally. She went back to finish her make-up.
Gabriel waited in the hall. He grew increasingly impatient wondering what was keeping her. Then he thought, it’s not like I’m anxious to get there, it’s just that standing here in these heels in murder.
At least the house where the party was on was only down the road. Gabriel scampered along, in the dainty steps forced on him by the shoes, trying to keep up with his Granny. Before he had time to think any more about it they were standing at the front door.
The breeze blew up under his dress and the ribbons on his stockings tickled his bare leg between his stocking and panties. He wondered if his stockings had slipped a bit during the quick walk. It felt like it but maybe that was his imagination. His petticoats only barely covered his stocking tops as it was, he recalled. He thought of checking but his Granny rang the door bell and it was too late.
He stood there desperately hoping that the ribbons on his stockings were not showing and wondering when he would get a chance to check. The door opened and Mrs. Grainger smiled broadly when she saw Gabriel in his stunning outfit. “What a gorgeous outfit”, she exclaimed but Gabriel was certain she was being sarcastic.
His Granny gave a little cough and glared at Gabriel. He remembered he was supposed to curtsey. He gave what appeared to be an enthusiastic curtsey before he could think about it and be too embarrassed. Mrs. Grainger suppressed a laugh. She had only ever seen girls curtsey in movies.
“Come in”, she said stepping back from the door. Gabriel could hear the chatter of at least a dozen girls inside. He braced himself as he walked in. He desperately hoped that at least some of the girls were in party dresses too.
He walked in and looked around at twenty ten-year-old girls. There was sudden silence in the room when he walked in. He scanned the room with increasing dismay as he tried to find a girl in any kind of dress. The girls were dumbfounded at this fifteen-year-old in a party outfit that they would have refused point blank to wear at any age.
Rachel was in the centre and was clearly delighted that her expectations were greatly exceeded. Gabriel was very conscious of the eyes staring at his ringlets, his frilly ankle socks, the way he clutched desperately on his cute purse. He pressed down on his petticoats nervously hoping to make sure that the bows on his stockings could not be seen.
Many of the girls began to smile sweetly and say things like “oh what a pretty dress”. Gabriel knew they were being sarcastic but had to behave as if they meant it. His Granny coughed again and he remembered he was supposed to curtsey if anyone complimented his outfit. He tried not to wince too obviously but fixed a smile on his face to hide his mortification as he curtsied in front of the girls.
There were snorts of laughter as some of the girls failed to maintain their composure. Gabriel was desperately trying to decide if he should act as if he loved being dressed up like this or behave as if he was forced to and hated it. In the end, despite all the humiliation, he smiled sweetly and acted as if he was delighted with all the compliments.
“Haven’t you got a present for Rachel?” his Granny reminded him. “Oh yes”, he said, relieved for any distraction. He daintily opened his purse which was surprising difficult with the lacey gloves on. He took out the little present for Rachel. She was still more interested in the humiliating appearance of this older girl but took the present graciously.
Gabriel was invited to sit. He walked over to the chair and gathered his petticoats under him before sitting. He shifted uneasily in the chair, trying to ensure that his stocking tops would not be seen. For once he was grateful for the huge volume of his petticoats.
Later the girls ran out to the garden to play. Gabriel was invited to follow them by Mrs. Grainger. He walked unenthusiastically into the centre of the garden. Suddenly Rachel and a friend picked up either end of a rope that was trailed across the grass. They swung it over Gabriel’s head and he instinctively jumped as the rope swung under him.
His petticoats ballooned around him as he jumped. The rope swung around again and he had little choice but to jump again if he did not want to end up in a heap of frilly lace in the centre of the garden.
The girls kept swinging the rope. Gabriel’s ringlets danced around his head. The children roared laughing as they saw the pretty bows at the tops of his stockings. He desperately tried to pin his petticoats down with his arms as he was forced to jump repeatedly.
Eventually Mrs. Grainger took pity on him and told the girls to stop but not before she’d had a good snigger at the unfortunate child’s outrageously frilly matching underwear.
When Gabriel had smoothed down his skirts again he noticed that the girls were still looking just below his hemline and they continued to snigger. He realised that his stockings must have slipped down. He raised his petticoats to confirm this. Everyone laughed now as he displayed his stocking tops. He tried to pull them up but it became obvious that he would have to untie them, pull them up and tie them again.
Eventually the laughter got the better of him and he stormed off in a huff to the bathroom, his ringlets swinging dangerously behind him.
-
In the safety of the bathroom he sniffled as he untied and retied his stockings. He tried to regain his dignity before he left the room again to face the crowd. But he looked in the mirror and saw that the ribbons in his hair had loosened in all the activity.
He retied his ribbons and made sure that all of his lace trimmings sat just right before clutching his purse and facing up to going out again. He squared himself up and tried to look confidently at himself in the mirror. But he saw a complete sissy of a fifteen-year-old boy in the mirror and his shoulders sagged again.
Eventually he managed to pluck up enough courage to go out again. After that spectacle the rest of the party passed off relatively quietly. He just sat demurely in his seat and tried not to get crumbs on his dress.
The rest of the fortnight seemed like a year to him. Each day he had to unroll his ringlets and dress up in a pretty frock, accompany his Granny around the neighbourhood, read his girly books and magazines, practice his embroidery and tie up his ringlets again at the end of the day before putting on his nightie.
On the Sunday a fortnight from the start of his ordeal his mother and sister were coming to retrieve him. He couldn’t wait until they took him away and he could finally regain his trousers.
His Granny insisted that he wear his apricot party frock again along with the thigh-high stockings and frilly ankle socks. She had made him wear the higher heels nearly every day so he was becoming used to the discomfort.
She also decided that he had to wear a white pinafore over the dress for the morning until they arrived. The front of the pinafore had starched lace trimmings that stood out over the shoulder and snagged his ringlets. Those damn ringlets. The only reason that he agreed to stay the two weeks was to allow the ringlets to fade away but his Granny always found a reason for him to reset them, including this morning, so they dangled perfectly around his head.
He sat out in the garden working on his embroidery, waiting for his Granny to alert him when his mother and sister were about to arrive by getting him to remove his pinafore.
But she had left him out there when they arrived. She brought them into the back room which was quite dark compared to the sun-drenched garden. They watched with fascination as Gabriel worked earnestly on his embroidery, looking cross if he made a mistake and had to redo something.
He sat quite unselfconsciously in a very graceful pose, his back perfectly straight and his feet daintily tucked in under his chair. “Watch”, his Granny said as she left the room.
She went out into the garden. When Gabriel saw her, he immediately put down his embroidery and stood up. He looked down demurely and gave a deep curtsey, sweeping his petticoats widely around him, just as his Granny had taught him to do every time she approached. His mother and sister creased over laughing and desperately covered their mouths so as not to be heard.
They couldn’t hear what she said to him but he walked over in dainty little steps to pick up a skipping rope. They couldn’t believe how confidently he walked in the high heels.
As he bent to pick up the rope his mother was sure she glimpsed some bare leg meaning that he must be wearing stockings. Laura looked at her in surprise, obviously thinking the same thing.
Gabriel took the rope and started skipping. As his petticoats billowed there was now no doubt to them that he was wearing stockings and they saw the cream ribbons tied in a bow holding them up.
His Granny came in and motioned them to come out into the garden. They silently walked up behind Gabriel who was happily skipping away with great dexterity although his feet were in agony from skipping in the high heels.
His Granny gave a little cough. Gabriel stopped and turned with a contented smile on his face - until he saw his mother and sister. His smile dropped instantly. He looked down at his pinafore, his apricot dress and his petticoats all awry. He could feel that his stockings had slipped down.
He didn’t know whether to try to tidy up his appearance or not. It might suggest that he was genuinely worried that he didn’t look his prettiest but after a fortnight of coaching from his Granny he actually found it difficult to stand there with his petticoats so crumpled and his stockings sagging. His mother and sister roared laughing anyway.
He knew what they had seen. They had seen him acting like a perfect sissy girl, doing embroidery and skipping happily in a pretty dress and tightly pressed ringlets after only two weeks acting as a girl.
Eventually, influenced by a disapproving gaze from his Granny, Gabriel reached up under his petticoats and untied the ribbons holding his stockings up, pulled them up and re-tied the ribbons. Then he finally smoothed down his petticoats and restored his perfectly pretty appearance.
“You’ve turned him into the most perfect sissy girl”, his mother commented rather bluntly. Gabriel flinched at the bald statement but it was undoubtedly true.
-
His mother waited until lunch to make her surprise announcement. “I’ve got some great news for you”, she said to Gabriel. He looked at her warily. He had grown accustomed to being suspicious of what he or his Granny regarded as “great”.
“Laura and I have decided to tour Eastern Europe for the rest of the summer”, his mother announced. Gabriel had always wanted to see Prague and Budapest and Berlin and for a moment he thought that his wish was going to come true. But then he realised that she said “Laura and I”. He braced himself.
“You, my dear, can stay with your Granny for the whole summer”, she told him as if she expected him to be delighted at the prospect. He put down his knife and fork and slumped in his seat. “Ah, ah!” his Granny scolded. He looked at her glumly and straightened up in his seat obediently. He picked distractedly at his food after that, contemplating a whole summer in frilly dresses. He didn’t suppose for a moment that his mother would have brought any of his boy’s clothes for him.
But he was to be surprised. After lunch his mother produced a suitcase containing his trousers and shirts and lovely flat shoes. Gabriel looked as if all his Christmases had come at once. He grabbed the case and rushed upstairs. He could practically feel the lovely material of the trousers between his legs. He was looking forward to having his underwear safely hidden under trousers instead of under constant threat of exposure.
He threw the case on his bed. The women had followed him up. He unzipped the case and flipped it open. He stood for a moment and took in the glorious sight of a pair of blue jeans. He took them from the case like a long-lost treasure. He let the legs of the jeans hang in front of his white-stockinged legs to savour the contrast.
“There’s just one thing”, his Granny mentioned tentatively. Gabriel froze. “If you wear those clothes now then everyone in town will know that you are a boy. And that you have been wearing pretty girl’s clothes for the last two weeks.” Gabriel hadn’t budged an inch. He began to take deep breaths. “Including lovely frilly underwear”, his Granny continued.
He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. She was right. He would have to endure a summer of extreme teasing if everyone found out that he was a boy. He thought of his convincing curtseys, his public display of frilly underwear while skipping, his adorable ringlets. But the alternative was to continue wearing these horrid dresses and stockings and hair ribbons for the whole summer. He would have to continue acting like a stupid sissy girl.
They waited for his decision. He opened his eyes again and looked longingly at the jeans. He thought just how hilarious everyone in town reckoned it was to see a fifteen-year-old girl in these sissy clothes. Just what would they think if they knew it was a boy all along?
His hands were still holding up the jeans. They suddenly flopped down against his petticoats. His Granny came over and took the jeans from him. “You’re making the right choice”, she assured him. He looked at himself in the mirror in his apricot dress, white pinafore, frilly ankle socks and white thigh-high stockings, with his perfectly formed ringlets. This was how he was going to look for the next two months.
His Granny put the jeans back in the case and he heard her zip it up. He couldn’t bring himself to look as his mother brought the case back out to the car. Suddenly he turned to his Granny. “Could I….?” he pleaded, “… just for a few minutes.” She shook her head sympathetically. “It would only make you feel worse”, she told him. He wasn’t so sure but the case was back in the car now.
They wanted to perm his hair again before they left. He was completely dejected now and put up no resistance. He sat there reading his Bunty magazine as the chemicals did their work.
When his mother drove off he stood in the driveway clasping his white gloved hands helplessly on the expanse of his petticoats. At the prompting of his Granny he mechanically waved as the car disappeared out the gate.
Every few days his Granny e-mailed photos of him to his mother who was able to view them in various internet cafes across Europe. One day the e-mail explained that Mrs. Burgess of the local traditional dance group had twisted her ankle. Taking advantage of Gabriel’s new compliance, his Granny convinced him to substitute for her in the dance group. He hadn’t appreciated that it involved an elaborate costume.
His mother called Laura over to the computer excitedly when the first photo came through. Gabriel had tried on his costume at home. He stood wearing an elaborately embroidered white blouse with puffed sleeves, an enormous red skirt which came to just above the knee but obviously had a ton of petticoats underneath. He also wore a white bonnet with his ringlets poking out under the ribbon that tied under his chin.
He looked thoroughly embarrassed, although his mother and sister reckoned that the dress was considerably less embarrassing than some of his previous outfits. But the next day the reason for his acute embarrassment became clear. His Granny sent photos of the performance. In the third shot Gabriel was doing a twirl. Under his swirling petticoats a pair of heavily frilled bloomers could be seen. The dance group was up on a stage and in the background you could see dozens of people looking up at the spectacle with delight.
A discussion arose through the e-mails between his Granny and mother about how well behaved he was now. His mother wondered if this would continue after he returned home. His Granny suggested sending him to an exclusive school near her that had a very good reputation for discipline.
When they returned home from the holiday they eagerly went to visit Granny. Gabriel appeared in his new school uniform. He wore a white shirt with a green blazer over it. A green tartan tie formed a floppy bow under his chin. He also wore a green tartan pleated skirt which fell about five inches above his knee, green knee socks and his high heeled t-bar shoes.
His hair had grown quite a bit over the summer and was twisted tightly into two pig tails tied up with green ribbons. His mother smiled at the two little bumps on his chest. He looked down embarrassedly in the direction of his stuffed bra.
He was warned that the school had a strict dress code and he would have to be immaculately turned out every day. He had been horrified at the idea of spending two months of the summer in dresses. He had little doubt now that he was going to have to spend his remaining three years of school in this tartan skirt and pigtails.
-
He had given up all hope of wearing a pair of trousers and just concentrated on trying to be a convincing girl which would at least minimise his humiliation. Having to play netball in a short games skirt was the worst part for him. He was constantly afraid to jump, in case his skirt would fly up and reveal a give-away bulge in his panties. So he was easily the worst at the game and was taunted by the real girls.
As the winter approached his short skirt and knee socks did not afford much insulation. He found himself envying girls who wore nice thick green tights. Eventually he was forced to ask his Granny if he could get his own green tights. She made him buy them himself and he had to shop around to find which brand of tights would be the most comfortable, most durable and best value.
He found himself having conversations with girls in his class about the best tights to buy. “The cheaper tights just don’t last”, he heard a girl say and found himself nodding wisely in agreement.
At Christmas his mother and sister took advantage of the situation to buy him cute clothes that he would be obliged to wear since they were bought for him as presents. On Boxing Day they all went for a walk.
Gabriel wore a red knitted hat with three white bobbins dangling from the top. He had a white woollen scarf, a red jacket lined with fluffy white fur, a red tartan pleated mini skirt over white knitted tights. On his feet he wore red high-heeled boots with matching white fur trim.
Into the new year the school’s head mistress was constantly complaining to his Granny about his lack of appliance. In classes he often found himself staring dreamily at the boy’s trousers, trying to recall what it was like to wear them.
At the end of the year the head mistress called his Granny in again. “If she doesn’t improve drastically she will end up in some menial job like a maid.” His Granny agreed and looked at him crossly. “In fact, I would suggest”, the head mistress continued, “that it would be a good lesson for her to spend the summer working as a maid in my house just to let her know what it would be like.” Gabriel was startled by this. His Granny agreed to the proposal immediately.
The first day of the summer holidays she brought him to the head mistress’ house. They were shown to a drab attic room that would be his for the summer. His maid’s uniform was hanging on the door. He looked at it gloomily – black satin with thick lace trimmings around the collar, sleeves and hem. He was beginning to hate summer holidays. They always seemed to herald a deterioration of his situation.
But when he tried to put the uniform on, it wouldn’t fit. Gabriel was quite pleased about this. His Granny excused herself for a moment. She returned with a corset. He winced at the realisation that he was not going to be spared the uniform. But not as much as he winced as his Granny tugged at the corset strings.
It was not until the third attempt that she finally squeezed the dress down over his body. As he stood slightly dazed by his inability to breath freely, his Granny fetched two black stockings. He was held in so tightly that he couldn’t bend over to put the stockings on his feet. His Granny started rolling the first up his leg, telling him that in future he would have to do this himself before tightening his corset.
The stockings were seamed and she took a great deal of trouble making sure they were straight before she let him attach them to the straps on his corset. She tied a white lace-trimmed apron around his waist which had been made to appear higher by the corset.
She found white petticoats in the wardrobe which she made him step into. She pulled them up under his dress. They made his dress much shorter and on examining himself in the mirror he saw that if he stooped slightly, the tops of his stockings would be visible.
Then there were the shoes. They must have been 4-inch heels. His high-heeled school shoes had prepared him somewhat but these were a good deal higher and he tottered forwards at first.
Finally his Granny handed him a pair of white gloves and a white frilly head-band. He still tottered around on the heels and asked her if she would take them off him for a minute. “Don’t be silly. You just need to get used to them”, she insisted. There was no way he could bend over to take them off himself so he was stuck with them.
He went very carefully, but still painfully, down the stairs to be inspected by the head mistress. She examined him in great detail and only seemed to be adequately satisfied at his appearance. She told him to turn around. Without any warning she pulled up his petticoats and dress and adjusted a stocking by no more than a couple of millimetres. “You will need to have your seams dead straight at all times”, she told him.
Gabriel looked helplessly at his Granny as she left him in the command of the head mistress, squeezed into a tight corset, unsteady high-heels strapped on his feet and wearing a dress that barely covered his modesty.
He soon learned that he could never really please the head mistress. He could do nothing to her satisfaction.
His first week wearing the four-inch heels from dawn to dusk were agony. Then one day the heel broke on the left shoe and he was allowed to wear a pair of court shoes for the rest of a blissful day.
But the next morning she presented him with a pair of five-inch heels. These were complete agony. It was like being forced to walk around on tippy toes all day.
The head mistress had three sons between seventeen and twenty two. They ogled Gabriel worryingly, taking in his long black-stockinged legs and thin corseted waist which was greatly emphasised by the contrast of the voluminous petticoats. He felt very vulnerable when they were about, wearing such a short dress. He was acutely aware that his high heels would make any quick escape impossible.
-
The five-inch heels were agony. Once he was tightly strung into his corset in the morning and the tight dress was pulled down and zipped up, he knew he couldn’t bend over and take his shoes off for even a moment until late that night when he finally got to loosen the corset again.
Between the tight corset, the slippy gloves and the unsteady heels, he kept dropping things and knocking things over. When he broke a treasured vase he knew he was in big trouble.
The house was decorated with many artefacts that you might associate with a medieval castle. This included a set of stocks in the hallway. Gabriel couldn’t believe it when the head mistress, on finding the broken vase brought him over to the stocks and opened the top half. He was so stunned that he just did what he was told and put his head and hands into the holes. She brought the top half down and slid the bracket over the end to hold it in place.
Many stocks that Gabriel had seen before had ridiculously large head and hand holes that would not keep anyone restrained but these seemed to be genuine. His neck and wrists were held securely.
Before he could protest, the head mistress walked away leaving him there. He was facing the wall in the corner of the hallway with his back to the rest of the room. He realised that anyone entering the room would be treated to a view of his petticoats, stockings and suspenders and almost certainly his frilly panties.
He tugged and wriggled and closely examined the bracket to see if there was anyway of getting out. But he was held firm. He also shuffled from one foot to the other as the straps of his five-inch shoes dug in.
Then he heard a door open. He froze – not that he could move much anyway. He couldn’t see who it was. He heard a chuckle as the person clearly stopped to look. Then the footsteps resumed and another door opened and closed.
After that, doors opened at regular intervals as he suspected that the news spread. He could never see who was there but a couple of times he realised that there was a lone male standing there studying his frilly underwear. It was not a pleasant feeling being totally restrained there with your bottom exposed invitingly to any passing male.
He couldn’t see any clock and had no idea how long he was being kept there. His feet were in agony from his being held in a standing position for a long period. He heard lunch-time come and go.
A couple of times he considered begging the person behind him if he could be freed. There was no lock involved - they would only have to slide the bracket back. But he never knew who was there and presumed that only the mistress could relieve him.
He was eventually freed just before dinner time. It took him a couple of minutes to straighten his back and he could barely walk in the shoes. Yet he was instructed to serve dinner in the dining room. The three sons all wore knowing smirks as Gabriel came in with the tray.
They managed to contrive reasons to make him walk repeatedly from one end of the room to another to fetch things and clearly enjoyed his great discomfort which each step.
Eventually dinner was served and he was able to sit down in the kitchen and have a bowl of soup. He tried to rest his feet but, as ever, he knew that he was stuck in these shoes until he went to bed and was able to take off his uniform and loosen his corset.
The next day his Granny was summoned because the head mistress had decided to dismiss him. He was so relieved. He was actually delighted to be able to wear the powder blue dress, white tights and his ordinary high-heeled t-bar shoes which seemed so comfortable compared to the agonising five-inch shoes he had been forced to wear.
He practically had to stop himself skipping happily towards his Granny’s front door when they got home. He was delighted to be back in his girly pink room, compared to the stark attic room he had occupied. He flopped down in the bed and was even pleased to see the familiar line-up of dolls around him.
Overnight, he decided that it would be in his interests to try to impress his Granny, in the hope that she would not attempt to send him off anywhere as miserable again. In the morning he actually chose a dress that he had managed to avoid wearing up to now because it was so embarrassingly sissy.
It had a pattern of flowers in pink and blue pastels with a white lace-trimmed collar that stretched over the shoulders. He found the matching panties and pulled on the three-layer organza petticoat underneath. He even chose to wear the dreaded thigh-high stockings tied up with the cream ribbons and pulled on frilly ankle socks too. He happily slipped on his high-heeled shoes and carefully tied up his hair on either side with ribbons. He powdered his cheeks heavily with blush. He only rejected the lace-trimmed white gloves on the basis that they would be impractical for breakfast.
He checked himself in the mirror. A year ago he would have been totally mortified at being made wear these clothes. Now he had voluntarily selected them to wear himself. They were such a relief after the corset and five-inch heels that he was actually genuinely pleased to be able to wear these. And he had to please his Granny above all else.
She came into the bedroom expecting to have to pull him out of bed. She was startled to find him already dressed and made-up. She was equally surprised at his choice of clothes. Even she had thought that that dress was really too much.
He curtsied with a suitably demure expression but once that was done he skipped over to her enthusiastically. “Oh it’s so good to be home Granny”, he said excitedly. She was quite startled. He held out his petticoats and smiled down at them. He clasped his hands in front daintily and practically hopped up and down with excitement.
She was now clearly amused but tried to hide it. She just turned and said “breakfast is ready”. With her back turned, Gabriel was able to let his act drop. He cringed at the way he had just behaved. He had deliberately given her the impression that he was delighted to be back in pretty dresses and sissy undies. Well, it was better than corsets and stilettos, he consoled himself as he walked elegantly behind her.
-
After breakfast he asked his Granny if she had any embroidery that he could do, trying to give an impression of enthusiasm. She was clearly still angry that his head mistress had sacked him and was reluctant to show her pleasure at his apparent acceptance of girly things.
He felt that she was suspicious that it was some kind of act. “Would you like to go shopping?” she asked him as a clear test. He inwardly squirmed at the idea of the whole town seeing him dressed like this and at the thought that he would have to keep up the act in public. “Oh yes”, he replied with apparent keenness and he immediately put down his embroidery and stood as if he couldn’t wait.
He made sure that she saw him checking himself in the mirror before going out. He adjusted his dress and petticoats and retied the bows in his hair as if anxious that they should be just right. He made sure that he bent over to fluff out the lace on his ankle socks so that she would see the tops of his stockings.
Then he went straight for the door like a dog dying for its walk. Here he was, just asking to be paraded before the whole neighbourhood in a sissy dress. She had to accept that he seemed to be genuine.
The next day she told him that his mother had heard about his being sacked from the job as a maid. She was going to come over on Sunday to give out to him and try to get him back into the job.
When the car pulled up he scampered out the door. He had chosen to wear his mother’s apricot party dress which he reckoned would be her favourite. He deliberately tied the stockings low so that she would see them and he put on the high-heeled shoes and lacey white gloves. He went all out to look as pretty as possible.
When she stepped from the car, he put on his cutest possible look. “Mummy please can I stay here with Granny?” His mother was clearly surprised at this. She looked up and down at his ultra-girly appearance. “Please Mummy, I just love wearing these pretty dresses and doing embroidery and skipping and everything, please don’t make me go back.”
His mother and Laura looked at each other in surprise. “Well”, his mother replied, “I’ll think about it.” “I promise I’ll be a really good …”, he faltered at this point, “… little girl.”
“I suppose so, if you really want to”, his mother said, a little uncertainly. “Oh thank you, thank you”, Gabriel said and he curtsied twice. He skipped into the house. Laura looked at her mother and shrugged her shoulders in surprise.
He made sure to be on his best behaviour for the rest of their visit. He happily worked on his embroidery as the others chatted. Any time that he left or re-entered the room he treated them all to a deep curtsey. There was little doubt in his mother’s mind that he genuinely wanted to stay in pretty dresses and panties and stockings.
As they got into the car to go and Gabriel prepared to wave them off in great relief that he was not going to be returned to being a maid, his mother commented “I’m surprised that you don’t want to come home with us and be a boy again”. Gabriel was speechless. He looked at his Granny for an explanation. “But I can see that you loved being a pretty little girl so - whatever you want.” And with that she got into the car.
Gabriel tried to run over to her to stop her from leaving but his heels wobbled on the gravel. “Wait Mum, wait!” He desperately wanted to explain that it was all a mix-up but she started the car and drove off. Gabriel scampered down the drive way after the car but they just thought he was waving enthusiastically.
As the car disappeared into the distance, he realised that his mother and sister now thought that he preferred being a sissy girl to getting his boy’s life back. He turned and glared at his Granny who just smiled at him mischievously.
She tried to get him back into the school after the summer but the head mistress would not have it. She turned her anger on Gabriel since he had wasted a year’s fees for the expensive school. She told him that he would just have to attend whatever school she could get him into now.
She tried all the senior schools but had no joy. As the holidays ended she told him that the principal of the junior school agreed to take him in for the interim until a senior school could be found.
He was embarrassed enough at having to attend school with twelve-year-olds but the principal insisted that he had to wear the uniform since no exceptions could be made. Even the biggest pink gingham gymslip they could find was very tight and short on him. Standing in front of the mirror he could see that it only barely hid the frills on his panties.
He minced towards the school, self-consciously tugging on the hem of his gymslip. He could hear the tittering of his former senior school colleagues walking down the other side of the road. What he would give now to be able to wear a smart blazer and the green tartan skirt.
The desks were very small and low in the junior school. He had to squeeze in and he was certain that his panties must be showing from sitting in such a low position. The sniggering from the boys around him supported this theory.
-
He was naturally unhappy and grumpy at having to attend the junior school. The teachers complained about his attitude. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you if you get thrown out of this school”, his Granny warned him.
He didn’t think that things could get any worse so he continued his uncooperative attitude at school until he was inevitably sent home one day with a note for his Granny. He had been expelled again. She barely talked for him for the next few days and just told him that she was “making arrangements”.
The following Sunday she insisted on setting his hair in sausage curls again. He figured that this wasn’t the worst punishment. He had been here before after all.
But on Monday morning she produced a dress that hadn’t been in his wardrobe. It was lemon coloured and high-waisted. When he got to see himself in the mirror he could see that it was very short and the matching lace-trimmed panties could be glimpsed no matter how much he tugged at the hem.
After breakfast his Granny got ready to bring him out. He cringed as she pushed him out the door in this dress that was going to expose his frilly underwear to anyone they met. She brought him to a house on the next street. It was a pre-school centre. Three and four-year-old children were scampering around but they all stopped to stare at this sixteen-year-old who was dressed more childishly than any of them.
“Seeing as you can’t even behave properly in junior school, I’m putting you where you belong”, his Granny informed the miserable boy as she left him there.
His behaviour only deteriorated following this punishment and humiliation. He sat in a sulk all day long and his Granny was not pleased when she heard this afterwards. What did she expect? he wondered. When she collected him on the third day, the lady in charge, Mrs. Collins commented that he was the biggest baby in the place.
The next morning his Granny came in, pulled back the bed clothes and made him step out of bed. She pulled down his panties and pushed him back on the bed. She wrapped what he thought was a towel around his nether regions. It was only when she used two large pins to fasten it in place that he realised he was being put in a nappy.
She pulled up a pair of plastic pants over the nappy while he pleaded with her. He realised that this punishment had been inspired by Mrs. Collins’ comment. His Granny ignored his pleas and pulled white tights up over the nappy and then a huge pair of frilly panties.
Then she produced another new dress which was pink and had several layers of fluffy petticoats underneath. It was shorter again and revealed the lower half of his frilly panties. It would be clear to anyone who saw him that he was wearing a nappy. She had also attached an over-sized soother to the dress.
He was dragged down to the pre-school where all the children and staff roared laughing when they saw him. “Look at that pretty frilly nappy cover”, Mrs. Collins said. He was fighting back the tears as his Granny took Mrs. Collins aside and had a quiet word with her. They were clearly both highly amused as his Granny left him standing in the middle of them all.
He was so humiliated wearing a thick nappy among all these three and four-year-olds but there was nothing he could do. He had no proper underwear and his dress was so short that if he removed the nappy he would be exposing himself to everyone.
But exactly how serious his predicament was, did not become clear until later in the day when he asked to use the toilet. Mrs. Collins laughed and told him he didn’t need the toilet. She told him to let her know when he was wet and they would change his nappy.
He was shocked. He presumed that putting him in a nappy had been humiliating enough but they were intent on making him use it! He sat there sniffling for another hour until his bladder got the better of him.
A tearful Gabriel approached Mrs. Collins and informed her. She teased him about crying like that and called him a big baby. She tried to make him suc-k on his soother. He refused point blank until she made it clear that he would not be changed unless he promised to suc-k on the soother for the rest of the day.
In the end he had no choice and he suc-ked obediently on his soother while she changed his nappy. Most of the other staff gathered around and watched for their own amusement as he had his bottom powdered and was pinned into a clean nappy. They showed no surprise when his male anatomy was revealed, so he assumed that his Granny must have told them. Now everyone in town was going to realise that the big sissy girl was really a boy!
His Granny was given a full report of his day when she arrived to collect him. He sniffled as he continued to suc-k on his soother. She insisted on holding his hand all the way home.
He found the door to his bedroom was locked so he couldn’t get at any normal underwear. Suddenly he longed for a nice pair of frilly panties instead of the nappy cover.
-
His Granny made him go to bed at eight o’clock as if he was a real toddler. She brought him up to his room and unlocked the door. On the bed was a pink fleecy sleep-suit. As she removed his dress, nappy cover and tights, he looked at the sleep-suit with interest. It would be the nearest thing to trousers that he had come across since that fateful day when he lost the arm-wrestle contest with his sister.
OK, so it was pink and fleecy but when he thought of the short flouncy dresses and nighties that had become his normal wear, this sleep-suit was comparatively attractive.
His Granny held it out for him to step into. He hesitated and relished the imminent feeling of cloth against his legs. He stepped into it and she pulled it up over his nappy. He realised too late as she buttoned him in that he was obviously being put to bed still in the nappy.
As she buttoned up the front of the suit he noticed that it completely enclosed his hands and feet. The hands of the outfit were made of some thick and slippery material. When her back was turned, he discretely tried to handle the buttons at the front but realised that he couldn’t use his hands through the thick material.
He looked in the mirror. He was covered in pink, apart from his head. Even under the thick fleecy suit the outline of the thick bulge of his nappy was obvious. His Granny pinned the soother to his sleep-suit and made him get into bed.
When she left, he lay there squirming in the suit. Every time he moved within it he could feel it pull against his hands or feet or stretch around his nappy.
Eventually he settled down but it was hours before he went off to sleep. Not long after, he woke anyway from the pressure on his bladder. He knew that there was no point in asking his Granny if he could use the toilet.
He struggled again to get out of the sleep-suit but he was helplessly confined to it. He lay there mournfully waiting until he could hold out no more and the warm pee spread all around his nappy.
When he was certain that he was all done, he got out of the bed and knocked on the door of his Granny’s room. It took a second knock but he heard her ask “what is it?”
He opened the door and walked in, the soother dangling from his pink sleep-suit. He just looked at her glumly. “Have you a wet nappy dear?” she asked. He nodded. She got out of bed and walked over to him. She took the soother in her hand and pushed it into his mouth. He knew that he was in no position to argue.
She brought him downstairs and into the utility room. He was surprised to see that she had set up an old table as a changing table. There was a pile of a dozen or so nappies there. He recoiled at the sight and whimpered through his soother. Why did she need so many nappies unless she intended keeping him in them for a few days at least?
She ignored his distress and made him get up on the table. He decided that he needed to get this wet nappy off anyway. She took off his sleep-suit and made him lie back while she dealt with his nappy.
He had to raise and lower his bottom and turn over on instruction. When he turned back she was already holding his next nappy. He whimpered again through his soother desperately hoping that she would give him a reprieve. But she ignored him and wrapped the clean nappy around him and pulled on dry plastic panties.
Soon he was buttoned back into his sleep-suit and was brought back up to bed. He couldn’t shake off the image of that pile of a dozen nappies and slept little until morning.
When his Granny came in to the room in the morning, he got out of the bed. She came over and he stood waiting for her to unbutton his sleep-suit.
She went for the wrists on the suit. She tightened a strap around his wrist and buckled it in place. She did the same on the other hand. She took the soother and pushed it into his mouth before unpinning it from the sleep-suit. She then separated the rest of the suit from the mittens and took it off him. His hands were obviously going to remain disabled.
She pulled on his tights, frilly nappy cover and the pink baby dress. Then she added a matching bonnet and tied it under his chin. He studied himself in the mirror. He instinctively tried to push his fluffy petticoats down to hide the frilly nappy cover but to no avail.
He was forced to accept at this stage that he had to do everything he was told if he wanted his nappy changed. She brought him down to the kitchen and sat him down. When she placed a bowl of cereal in front of him, he knew that he couldn’t feed himself.
She took out his soother which was some relief but immediately presented a spoonful of cereal to his mouth. He looked at her pitifully but knew from the determined look on her face that there was no point in arguing. He let her spoon-feed him the meal.
Soon she was getting ready to bring him to the pre-school. He stood in front of the hall mirror as she got her coat. He knew that his new bonnet would cause great amusement at the pre-school as well as the fact that he would arrive suc-king on his soother and with his hands in disabling mittens.
Mrs. Collins was delighted to see him as were all the children. His Granny handed her a baby bottle. She pointed out the mittens and said “he’s helpless now and can’t feed himself to I’m afraid you’ll have to bottle and spoon-feed him.” “That’s no problem at all”, Mrs. Collins assured her and she clearly relished the prospect. All the children sniggered.
Since the previous day they had acquired a play-pen to put him in. “We have to keep real babies in here”, Mrs. Collins told him. He was confined to the play-pen for the rest of the day, apart from his nappy changings, while the three- and four-year olds ran around the room, occasionally looking over with amusement at the sixteen-year-old in the play-pen.
It was bad enough having to suc-k on a baby bottle of milk but it took ages to empty it and all the kids thought it was hilarious.
-
He realised that sooner or later he would need to do a poo. He knew better than to even ask if they might take the nappy off him and let him do it in the toilet. He managed to hold off until he got home.
His Granny came into the front room to find him bent over. She smiled in recognition of what was going on. He paused before doing anything more in the hope of some reprieve. She just continued to watch with interest. He sighed and braced himself. He pushed a little more and a stool slid out and plopped into his nappy. Tears ran down his face. But he had only started.
The result of holding it in for so long now came back to haunt him. He spent a few minutes slowly filling his nappy with lots of very smelly poo. Once the novelty had worn off, the smell drove his Granny from the room and she left him to it.
He had hoped that she would be disgusted at having to change a soiled nappy and wipe his bottom clean and that this would signal the end of his torment but she hummed happily right through the task and soon he was pinned in to a clean nappy.
The next morning he was concerned to find that his Granny produced a new baby dress. This one was lilac with three tiers of flouncy lace. It had matching bloomers, that also had three rows of lace all the way around and a bonnet similarly trimmed. She also made him bring a large dolly to the pre-school.
That evening he lay back on the changing table and noted with some hope that there were only a few nappies left. But later on his Granny came in from the back garden with freshly cleaned and aired nappies from the clothes line and restored the pile to its original number.
At the end of the week Mrs Collins confessed that the novelty of having a sixteen-year-old boy in nappies and baby dresses had worn off and been overcome by the disgust at having to change his nappies and they were afraid that they couldn’t take him anymore. In front of several of the children she said “I’m afraid that all of our other children are out of nappies so we don’t generally have to handle that. Mrs. Black’s crèche handles the real babies. Maybe you can bring him there.”
All weekend Gabriel was troubled at the prospect of being brought to a creche with real babies. But on Monday morning his Granny did not bring him anywhere.
Around ten o’clock there was a ring at the door. He heard his Granny talk to a lady in the front room. Eventually she fetched him and brought him in wearing his lilac baby dress, bloomers and bonnet. The lady looked disdainfully up and down at the boy and smiled at his white tights and frilly ankle socks as he suc-ked gloomily on his soother with his dolly tucked under his arm.
“Ms. Bailey has been recommended to me as a Nanny for you”, his Granny told him. “She starts today for a trial period.” He looked at his new Nanny. He reckoned that she was about thirty, blond and slim. She wore a white blouse, black trousers and jacket.
While she looked quite attractive, he also noted a rather stern look once the amusement at his appearance had worn off. She started by feeding him a bottle of milk. It was clear that she would brook no resistance and had a very firm manner.
On his first changing since she arrived, she informed his Granny that she was going to shave off all the hair around his groin and use hair growth retardant to try to keep him that way.
His Granny was clearly impressed by the Nanny’s authority and told her to go ahead. Gabriel lay there terrified to move as the razor whipped around close to his genitals. He couldn’t help but wonder how long he was going to be kept in nappies.
The next day he overheard part of a conversation between the two women. He heard the Nanny say something about the importance of fresh air and exercise. The day after that, following his morning feed his Nanny produced a leather harness that she put over his chest and arms. With her usual firmness she ignored his whimpers and continued to buckle him.
By this stage Gabriel knew that he had no choice in anything anymore so he braced himself as she pushed him out the door clutching his dolly and suc-king on his soother.
“There’s the sissy boy”, he heard someone call out as he walked down the road. “It’s true, he is being kept in nappies!” another person shouted. He was mocked and taunted by people all the way to the park and back. He tried to be brave but his Nanny had to take out a handkerchief and wipe his nose after the tears started flowing.
A few days later a pink wooden high-chair appeared at home. Gabriel was made to sit up in it and his harness was fastened to the chair. Then the tray was swung down in front of him and it locked into position. With his hands constantly in the mittens he was unable to operate the catch on the tray so he was doubly restrained in the chair.
His Nanny seemed to love rubbing in his helplessness by leaving his food in front of him for a few minutes before tying his bib on and feeding him. He was now on a diet of milky rusks or pureed vegetables but by leaving the bowls tantalisingly in front of him for a period he actually found himself longing for the food.
He grew increasingly concerned that his life was becoming more and more babyish practically every day. But there was nothing he could do about it. Any disobedience was easily dealt with by leaving him in a soiled nappy for a few hours and soon just the threat of it was enough to make him keep in line.
-
One day he was aware that something was going on in his bedroom. Later on he was brought up to see that wooden side bars had been affixed to his bed. His Granny lowered the bars and made him get in. Then she replaced the bars and they clicked into place. “Now, you can take a little nap”, she told him and handed him a teddy to cuddle.
He just lay there, not needing to sleep but looking gloomily out through the bars as he suc-ked on his soother and hugged his teddy.
A couple of days later his Granny announced that she was meeting up with his mother and sister and going on a month’s holiday. Gabriel was taken aback and wondered what the implications for him were going to be. “Nanny will take good care of you”, she told him and he realised that he was going to be in nappies and baby dresses for another whole month – minimum.
His Nanny saw his Granny off and came in and looked at him in his high-chair. “Now it’s just you and me”, she said. He wondered if she meant anything by that.
The following afternoon he was idly playing with some bricks while sitting in his high-chair. He started feeling the need to poo. But he had hardly prepared himself for it when he just suddenly did a very messy one in his nappy.
As the following days progressed, this started to happen regularly. He became to realise that whenever he felt the need now, it just happened and there would be nothing he could do to stop it.
His Nanny continued to insist that he take a nap after his lunch every day. He gradually became used to this new routine and found himself nodding off shortly after he was put down.
He was also becoming used to being put to bed at eight o’clock and, in fact, he became quite sleepy and cranky if she delayed his bedtime by even a few minutes. Apart from waking in the middle of the night to wet himself, he nearly always slept through until morning.
He was concerned at how quickly he was becoming used to this babyish treatment. He tried to stay awake during his afternoon nap but just couldn’t. He eventually came to just accept it. One day he was very disturbed to wake after his nap to find that he was still suc-king on his soother and cuddling a dolly and presumably had done so all the way through.
A few days later, he was vaguely aware while he napped that he needed to do a pee. He just let it go and dropped off back to sleep. His Nanny was amused to find him wet when she woke him at the end of his nap.
He was quite distressed now that he clearly had little control over his toilet and actually needed to take regular naps. He wondered if his Nanny was doing anything to cause all of this.
He watched carefully from his high-chair as she prepared his bottles or feeds but she usually had his back to him and he couldn’t see everything that was going on. He became convinced that she was up to something but what could he do? She determinedly stuck the bottle in his mouth and brooked no resistance to spoon-feeding him either.
She had also adopted a policy of rewarding him with sweet things if he acted like a real baby girl and punishing him with particularly foul combinations of mashed vegetables if he was anything short of compliant and babyish.
He really had no alternative but to try to please her and be a sweet pretty baby girl. The worst part was on their walks to the park because he knew he would be rewarded with a lollipop if he convinced anyone they met that he loved being in nappies and baby dresses. She also made him curtsey prettily to the lady in the shop before getting his reward. The lollipop was so delicious, though, compared to the rubbery soother.
One day he started to wake from his afternoon nap. It took him several minutes to waken now. He heard voices but had to concentrate on waking up. He stretched in the cot and suc-ked hard on his dummy. He clutched his teddy to his chest again. Then he tried to focus on the pink bars.
He realised that the second voice was his Granny’s. He tried to look up at her from the cot. “There’s my pretty baby! Did you have a lovely time with Nanny?” He nodded automatically since he was now so used to giving the required responses.
“Oh is he wet?” she asked. “Yes, he always wets himself during his nap now”, his Nanny told her. “Really?”
Gabriel gradually began to realise how this must look to his Granny. She would see now that he obviously needed an afternoon nap, that suc-king on a soother and cuddling a teddy were now second nature to him and that he had lost control over his toilet and needed to be kept in nappies anyway.
His Nanny helped him to the kitchen and he was strapped into the high-chair for another bottle-feeding before he fully woke up. The women were speaking in the front room.
Then they came into the kitchen and walked over to him. His Nanny was clutching a sheet of paper and smiling broadly. His Granny told him “great news. Nanny has just signed a one-year contract to look after you.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened in shock. A year! They were going to keep him like a baby girl for a year. He thought that they must be joking but Nanny held the sheet up in front of him. He noticed another clause “with an option on a further year.” He whimpered through his soother. He looked pleadingly from one to the other and struggled against his harness.
They just ignored him. He shook the tray of his high-chair, furious that they were not paying any attention to his protests. His Nanny continued preparing his bottle. She came over and brusquely took the soother from his mouth and replaced it firmly with the bottle.
Tears streamed down his face as he realised that there was absolutely nothing he could do about all this. He was firmly strapped in, his hands were completely disabled, his still soggy nappy was pinned around his bottom under plastic panties, tights and a frilly nappy cover.
He needed to wear a nappy now anyway and required regular naps. He was totally dependent on his Nanny. He started suc-king on his bottle and his Nanny smiled that his little tantrum had ended.
-
A few days later a play-pen appeared. For the first day he sulked unhappily within its confines missing the freedom of being able to waddle around the room.
He was kept in his play-pen at all times, except when strapped into his high-chair or put into the cot for his naps or taken out for a walk in public.
He actually came to look forward to his walks even though it meant that he was paraded around in front of the whole town. He became used to the taunts and comments. He had no choice about his new life. They dressed him in sissy clothes, kept him in nappies and pressed his hair into sausage curls. What could he do about it? Why should he feel ashamed?
That was fine in theory but he knew exactly what it must look like. A seventeen-year-old boy seemingly delighted to be wearing pretty frilly baby dresses, contentedly suc-king on a soother and clearly needing to wear nappies.
One day when he was strapped into the high-chair waiting on his lunch, his Nanny showed him that she had a tub of his favourite honeycomb ice-cream in the fridge. He knew that he would need to be especially good to be treated to a bowlful.
His Nanny gave him his bottle of warm milk. He suc-ked on it happily anticipating the treat. She let him hold the bottle up himself and he continued suc-king away. At the end he tilted the bottle up pointedly to make sure that he had drunk every drop which would improve his chances of getting the delicious ice-cream.
As his Nanny spoon-fed him the spinach and cabbage mix his dangling legs jiggled about contentedly as the ice-cream treat drew nearer. When the bowl was empty he shoved his soother in and eagerly suc-ked on it, knowing that this would please his Nanny. His tummy was rumbling and he knew what was coming but he hoped it would hold off until he had his ice-cream.
When she reached for the fridge he bobbed up and down in the high-chair and clapped his hands in excitement. She spooned out a bowlful and came towards him. “Don’t you just love being a baby girl?” she cooed. He nodded enthusiastically and giggled, prepared to do anything now to replace the bitter taste of spinach with the sweet, sweet ice-cream.
“Do you ever want to go back to being a big boy?” He shook his head determinedly, his eyes glued to the bowl. She started feeding him the ice-cream. He kicked his legs happily and hummed as he savoured the taste.
“Let’s just turn you around”, his Nanny said as she rolled the chair around by 180 degrees. His Granny, mother and sister were standing there with astonished looks on their faces.
He froze. How long had they been there? He thought back over the last few minutes and remembered all his cutesy acting the baby.
He could see that his mother and sister were more shocked than amused. They took in his big pink lace-trimmed bonnet, the soother dangling from his baby dress that he had just been contentedly suc-king on, his pink tights and knitted booties.
He had forgotten about the ice-cream now. “Let’s get you out of your high-chair”, his Nanny suggested and she flicked the catch on the tray and unbuckled his harness.
Gabriel seemed reluctant to get out of the chair and only responded when his Nanny tugged on the reins. He very tentatively stepped down and slowly straightened up. He watched the look on his mother and sister’s faces as his short baby dress revealed the copiously frilly panties and the unmistakable bulge of a nappy underneath.
His mother put her hand to her mouth. “He’s wearing a nappy!” He thought that he was used now to these reactions but this was different. Having shifted to a standing position this was enough to cause his bowels to react. His mother started to ask a question. She pointed at the nappy. “Does he …” but she was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of very messy poo filling his nappy. This answered her question.
His mother and sister were shocked. He stood there mortified, hoping desperately that they would want to take him away from all this. He started bawling crying. His Nanny pushed his soother in with a “there, there”. She turned to them and suggested that he was upset at this reminder of his former life. The use of this term made him cry harder.
“Anyway, if you excuse me, I have something to see to”, she said and they stood back as she led him from the room by the hand. They watched her change his nappy. They squirmed when they saw his mess and thanked goodness that they didn’t have to deal with it.
They saw how he fully co-operated by raising and lowering his bottom without order and that this was a well practiced routine. He continued suc-king on his soother and started to get drowsy as usual after his lunch.
Once he was back in a clean nappy the Nanny helped him up to the bedroom for his nap. He knelt in the cot as she clicked the side bars in place. He looked anxiously at his mother. “Bye-bye now”, she said softly. “It’s just a flying visit.”
He whimpered through his soother and shook the bars, begging them with his eyes not to leave him there. He was feeling drowsier though and sat back on his legs. His mother gave him a sympathetic look. “You’re better off here”, she told him. “They have everything you need – a play-pen, high-chair, cot, changing table – everything.”
He shook his head desperately but started to fall down into the cot. “Sorry honey”, his mother said. “We shouldn’t have come. You seemed so happy until you saw us.”
Gabriel tried to protest but he couldn’t keep his eyes open as he slumped down in the cot. He suc-ked hard on the soother, hoping it would help keep him awake.
He heard his mother say to his Granny. “We’d better leave him with you and not come again and upset him.” He tried to hold on to the bars and desperately wanted to plead with them not to leave him there. But his feeble grip on the bars slipped away and he dozed off still suc-king on his soother.
His Nanny put the teddy under his arms and he instinctively squeezed it tight. “Bye bye honey”, he just about heard his mother say. She saw him twitch slightly as he finally lost the struggle against the sedative but soon he was fast asleep curled up with his teddy.
[concluded]