The Ice Cream Shop

       After the third sitting, Aunt Patricia took it upon herself to take them all out to an ice cream shop afterward as a reward for getting through what had seemed a difficult day. She wanted to end things on a more positive note. Aunt Patricia called it “restoration after artistic exertion,” which made Edward roll his eyes, though subtly, because he was again reluctant to object properly.

       He bashfully followed his aunt into the little shop in his yellow party dress, tights and patent Mary Janes. The smell of vanilla and sugar cones floated in the air. He was acutely aware, however, of the stares of the customers as they wondered why a little girl was so fancily dressed on a Tuesday afternoon. His cheeks, still rosy from the studio makeup, turned a deeper shade of red. The ice cream shop made him self-conscious in a different way from the studio. In Miss Vale’s studio, everyone knew the reason for the dress, the ribbons, and the careful posture. In the shop, strangers saw only what was in front of them. Edward wondered whether the woman behind the counter knew he was a boy and whether the two children at the next table were whispering about him. If anyone looked twice, his face grew warm.

       Aunt Patricia, noticing nothing or pretending not to, beamed, “Doesn’t he look darling after all that hard work? So neat and dainty, and still with those precious little curls dangling just so.”

       Edward’s shoulders tightened. “Aunty,” he muttered, “please
”

       â€œBut you look so natural like this,” she replied cutting him off mid-sentence. She lowered her voice only slightly. “Anyone would think you had been dressing this way all your life.”

       They got their ice cream and moved to a little table where Edward tried to disappear into the wallpaper. He sat carefully, keeping his knees together and holding the cone daintily away from his dress lest he drip on himself. His ever-present corset kept him in a demure and upright posture. He was very aware that he was the picture of effeminate sugar and spice.

       He had just managed another careful lick of his vanilla when the bell over the shop door jingled again, and two teenage girls stepped inside laughing together. Edward recognized them at once from school, which made his stomach drop straight into his shiny Mary Janes. They were not in his grade but one year ahead. Lily and Hannah were popular eighth graders who already seemed older and more certain of themselves than anyone in his own class. His instinct was immediate and desperate. He lowered his head quickly and tried to turn his face toward the window, hoping against hope that they would not look at him too closely. He felt a sudden, unwelcome stirring in his panties.

       Unfortunately, Aunt Patricia noticed him ducking and misunderstood the movement entirely. “Edward, darling,” she said in her clear, carrying voice, “sit up properly. You will drip ice cream on your pretty dress if you crouch like that.”

       Both girls turned immediately. Lily’s eyes widened first, moving from the pink gloss still faintly bright on Edward’s mouth to the puffed sleeves of his yellow dress and down to the patent shoes visible beneath the table. Hannah stared for half a second longer, then clasped a hand over her mouth. “Wait a second
 I know you! You’re Edward right?” she said, barely keeping her voice from squeaking, “you go to our school!”

       The fact that they were a grade ahead only made it worse. Older girls had a way of knowing everyone’s business before anyone else did, and their opinions seemed to float through school faster than ordinary gossip. Edward had seen Lily and Hannah standing by the lockers with their friends, laughing in little clusters that made younger students give them room. Now those same girls were looking at him as if he had just become the most astonishing thing in the shop.

       Edward turned scarlet “Uh
 yeah,” he squeaked. Then, he murmured, “Hi,” so quietly it was almost not a word at all. He wished he could slide beneath the little marble table and vanish among the chair legs.

       Aunt Patricia, however, brightened like a lamp being turned up. “Oh, do you girls know our Edward?” she asked with delighted interest. “How lovely! He is in the middle of a very important family portrait project. He resembles his great-great grandmother so closely that we are having him painted in her Victorian gown.” 

       Lily and Hannah looked at each other in bewilderment. Then, they began to giggle in the breathless, helpless way girls did when they were trying not to be rude and failing. “Oh... my... gosh,” Lily said, drawing out every word. “Edward, you look so cuuute!”

       Hannah nodded vigorously, pitching her voice into a high, sugary trill. “Too adorable! Look at your little pretty little dress!” She pressed both hands to her cheeks as if overcome, “I can’t even handle it.” Hannah leaned closer admiring the details of his dress and hair. “Oh my gosh Lily his curls are perfect.” She widened her eyes theatrically and clasped her hands under her chin. “Edward, you are giving serious Victorian doll energy.”

       Edward could not tell whether they meant to be cruel. Their voices were bright and teasing, but their giggles were not mean enough for him to protest. Every word made him feel more helpless. Eight graders loved to gossip. If they thought he looked adorable, then soon other people would know they thought so.

       â€œPlease,” he said in a low voice, cheeks bright red, “can you
 not tell everyone at school about
 all this?” The last two words came out very quietly. 

       Lily glanced at Hannah, and Hannah pressed her lips together as if trying not to smile. “But you look so pretty, Edward,” Lily said. Still, she seemed to take sympathy on him, “I suppose
 we can keep it between us ‘girls’ if you want!” Her voice had that older-girl brightness that made the reassurance less reassuring.

       Hannah gave a tiny giggle, “it’s not every day that a boy from school turns up looking like a Victorian cupcake.” Lily gave her a look, and Hannah added, “OK we won’t tell
 everyone.” Something about the way she said “everyone” made Edward cringe.

       Lily chimed in. “Okay? But you have to stand up and show us your outfit.” Lily said, still half laughing, as if Edward were something on display in a shop window. “I want to see the whole look.”

       Edward stiffened so hard that his corset seemed to tighten around him, but he reluctantly stood up. “Thank you,” he said softly. He was beside himself. Every giggle seemed to flutter straight under his skin, and every exaggerated compliment made his yellow dress feel brighter, puffier, and more impossible to ignore. Still, he did as they asked and slowly turned around for them. He started growing a little lightheaded. The embarrassment of the moment was causing an excited heat under his tights and panties. He tried to take shallow breaths.

       â€œOh look, Lily, he’s even wearing nail polish!” Hannah exclaimed.

       Then, before he could protest, Hannah had whipped out her phone and taken some pictures of him! The pressure in his panties only increased.

       â€œEdward, you are just the cutest thing in your darling little tights and Mary Janes!  I love it!” Lily agreed.

       â€œWhat do we say, dear?” his aunt prodded sweetly.

       Blushing even more, Edward stammered softly in an uneven voice, “Thank you.”

       Aunt Patricia only smiled proudly, as if Lily and Hannah’s reaction were exactly the sort of public admiration she intended. “Thank you, girls,” she said. “He is precious, isn’t he?”

       Edward stared down at his melting ice cream, cheeks blazing, while his classmates giggled again. Finally, they let him sit back down and moved to the counter to place their orders.

       â€œSee you at school!” Hannah said cheerily as they walked away.

       This was his last week of school before the summer break, but there were still two days left. Mercifully, Thursday was the last day, but there was no way this would be forgotten. With a sinking feeling, Edward watched Lily and Hannah whispering together at the counter, with sudden little bursts of laughter that made him flinch. His cheeks heated again, and his stomach turned cold as he realized the portrait was no longer something hidden away in the studio. Now it had escaped into the world where his classmates lived, and he could not call it back.

       The next morning, Edward was on pins and needles as he walked into school. He saw Lily and Hannah in the hallway right away, as if they had been waiting for him. Edward was thankfully in ordinary clothes now, with no dress, no hairbow, and no nail polish. Still, he blushed as soon as he saw them. They came right over to him.

       â€œAww you look so plain and ordinary today, sweetie,” Hannah teased quietly, “But don’t worry, we’re not going to tell
 everybody.”

       Lily said somewhat guiltily, “I thought you should know, however, that I did let it slip to Sophie. I didn’t mean to but she saw me looking at the picture on my phone. I made her promise not to tell anyone else.”

       This latest revelation lodged in Edward’s stomach like a stone. He stood awkwardly in front of the girls with his hands nervously half tucked into his pockets. Sophie was in his own grade and usually sat three tables away from him at lunch. He stifled a groan.

       Over the next two days, Edward tried to tell himself that nothing had changed. School was nearly over, and everyone was distracted by yearbooks, summer plans and their final restless classes. But once he was watching for it, he could not stop noticing the signs.

       Later in the afternoon, Sophie caught him by his locker with a knowing smile. Sophie stepped just close enough that he could hear her without anyone else catching every word. “Lily showed me your pictures,” she said with a smile, and Edward’s face went hot at once.

       Before he could retreat into embarrassment, Sophie lifted one hand in a small, calming gesture. “I’m not going to make fun of you, Edward.” Her voice was soft and interested, “I only told Rachel, because she saw me react and asked what was going on, but I made her promise not to say anything either.”

       Edward stared at the locker vent, too flustered to answer.

       Sophie gave him a small, encouraging smile. “For what it’s worth, you looked darling,” she added, then seemed to realize how easily that might sound like teasing. “This whole thing must feel strange.” She glanced down the hallway to be sure no one was listening too closely.

       â€œPlease don’t tell anyone else,” he pleaded. Sophie nodded, “I won’t,” she said. “Rachel won’t either. Your secret is safe with us.” Then, with a gentle grin, “But I’d love to see you dressed up in person sometime.”

       Despite all the assurances, on Thursday morning two other eight grade girls suddenly went quiet when he walked near them. They dissolved into giggles as soon as he passed. He realized that Hannah’s promise not to tell “everyone” was obviously not the same as telling “no one.”

       No one other than Sophie said anything to him directly, however. That was almost worse. If someone had teased him plainly, perhaps he could have denied it or pretended not to care. Edward wished desperately that Lily and Hannah had never walked into that ice cream shop.

masterfully told.  A slow unfolding inexorably driven by the immersion into the pleasures of feminine dressing.  A delight to read.  Thank you.

A Charming Visit to the Museum

       By the time they reached the museum, Edward felt as though he had entered a world completely separate from his normal life. A couple of banners fluttering outside announced the exhibition they were here to see. Edward felt his stomach sink as they walked up the stone steps to the entrance. He felt so visible arriving in his yellow party dress as he minced behind his aunt and mother. The sun caught the satin sash at his waist, the little embroidered flowers near the hem, and the bright yellow bow in his hair. Seeing those boys in their baseball uniforms at the coffee shop had only made him feel even more formal and sissyish than before, and he cringed to be dressed this way in public.

       Aunt Patricia took charge the moment they entered the museum, consulting the map to head straight to the special exhibition rooms. Edward’s eyes drifted toward signs for the military history wing and a sunlit corridor that seemed to lead to a sculpture garden, but his aunt drew them briskly past both. “Those might be very interesting another day,” she said as she bypassed them, “but this exhibition will literally be gone tomorrow, so will spend our time there.”

       Inside, the exhibit drew them at once into a suite of softly lit rooms where mannequins stood in careful rows like silent guests at an old-fashioned ball. There were walking dresses in dove gray and moss green, evening gowns with pearl-trimmed bodices, striped silk day dresses with tiny waists, velvet capes, lace collars, embroidered gloves, feathered hats, and slippers so small and delicate Edward could hardly believe anyone had once crossed real streets in them. Aunt Patricia was enchanted. She began moving with Edward in tow from case to case with shining eyes, reading the labels aloud and murmuring over the workmanship. “Look at the hand stitching, sweetie,” she breathed. “And that pleating! Imagine the patience. Bespoke, every inch of it.”

       Edward followed exactly as he had known he would, dragged along from one display to the next while Aunt Patricia marveled at all the dresses and styles. The exhibit was somewhat crowded, and he soon noticed something that made his cheeks grow warmer.  Nearly everyone there was female. Ladies stood in careful clusters, pointing at details through the glass. Mothers guided daughters from mannequin to mannequin. A pair of teenage girls studied a velvet bustle gown and whispered. Edward saw no boys at all. Even the few men present were museum guards or attendants standing discreetly near doorways.

       Of course, his darling yellow dress made him stand out. More than once, a woman smiled at him as they passed. “What an adorable dress,” one older lady said warmly, nodding toward him with a smile.

       A girl of perhaps nine stared openly at Edward in his frock before telling her mother, “Her dress is as pretty as the ones in the cases.”

       Another visitor leaned down and said, “You look like you belong in the exhibit yourself, dear.”

       Each comment seemed kindly meant, but Edward felt them land with painful force. They made him feel as though the dress had grown brighter and wider around him. He was so conscious of his daintily puffed sleeves, shiny polished nails, frilly anklets and snug corset. The ladies were trying to be pleasant, but it just reinforced how much he looked the part of a pretty little girl. He felt an unwanted stirring in his panties, and he felt cool air in the museum on his bare legs. His glossy Mary Janes clicked softly on the marble floor with each step.

       Of course Aunt Patricia made sure he showed his gratitude to every compliment, and Edward’s face burned as he murmured thanks each time, his voice small and careful.

       Aunt Patricia accepted the comments as if they confirmed her best judgment “Doesn’t he look sweet?” she would say, gently but unmistakably emphasizing the word. “My nephew is helping with a very special portrait project.”

       This revelation always produced a surprised pause, followed by widened smiles and fresh compliments that made Edward feel even more exposed. It was bad enough when strangers complimented the dress. It was worse when Aunt Patricia made sure they knew the blushing child was in fact her nephew.

       In the second gallery, a docent in a navy jacket approached them after noticing Aunt Patricia lingering before a breathtaking cream silk gown trimmed with tiny glass beads. Aunt Patricia needed no encouragement. Within moments, she was explaining the whole situation of the old photograph, Edward’s resemblance to his great-great grandmother, and the portrait. Edward stood meekly beside her, wishing the polished floor would open beneath his shiny Mary Janes.
 
       The docent listened with professional interest, then turned to him with a kind smile. “That is quite an undertaking,” she said, “and may I say, you look very lovely today.” 

       Edward’s blush deepened until he could feel it in his ears. “Thank you,” he whispered.

       Aunt Patricia beamed as though the docent had praised them both.

       Edward stood very still, terribly aware that the docent, his mother, Aunt Patricia, and several nearby visitors were all looking at him. A girl standing with her mother whispered, not quietly enough, “Is that really a boy?”

       Her mother hushed her at once but then smiled apologetically at Edward. “It is a very cute dress,” she said gently, as if hoping to repair the moment.

       Another woman added, “The color suits you beautifully.” The words made Edward’s stomach flutter with shame and confusion. He wanted no one to notice him, yet every polite smile seemed to indicate that they had noticed everything.

       As they continued through the stuffy rooms, Aunt Patricia became more animated. She compared the dresses to the gown Edward was wearing for the portrait sittings. She admired the narrow waists, full petticoats and ornate collars. Edward listened because he had no real choice, though he found himself recognizing details despite himself. A lilac afternoon dress reminded him of “his” portrait gown. A yellow silk visiting dress, displayed near the end of the gallery, drew Aunt Patricia to a stop. “There now,” she said delightedly. “Look, Edward, this one has a delicate floral motif just like yours! It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

       Edward glanced at the mannequin and then down at himself. The museum dress was older, and grander, but the echo of design was obvious enough. Nearby, two girls about his age looked at him and giggled behind their hands. “Yes, Aunty,” the befrocked teen muttered.

       In the final room, the exhibit included a set of interactive displays. Three large glass-fronted installations stood along one wall, each built around an elaborate dress with a camera and mirror arrangement positioned before it. A museum sign explained that visitors could stand on the marked spot, look into the mirror, and align their reflection with the gown, as if they were wearing it themselves. The first display held a little girl’s pink dress with tiny pleats, a beribboned sash, and lace cuffs no wider than Edward’s thumbs. The second showed a white Victorian bridesmaid’s dress with a wreath of silk flowers suspended above it. The third was a pale blue evening gown with a dramatic hourglass shape, wide shoulders emphasized by puffed sleeves, a full skirt, and a waist so slim Edward could scarcely believe the silhouette was real. The mirror softened the edges of the dresses so that each visitor seemed, for a moment, to step into the past.

       Aunt Patricia was delighted. She insisted they try the displays, though Edward would have been happy to view them from a distance. An attendant explained that the camera could take a souvenir photograph and print it at a small kiosk nearby. Edward stood stiffly on each marked spot while the mirror lined him up first with the pink child’s frock, then the bridesmaid dress, and finally the pale blue evening gown. He found the effect disorienting. The reflection was obviously an illusion, yet the sight still made his cheeks warm.

       It seemed Aunt Patricia was seeing not a museum novelty, but further proof of what she already wanted to believe about him. When the three little printed photographs slid out of the kiosk, Aunt Patricia clasped them as if they were treasures. The computer had added in the background of a crowded Victorian street behind him in the photos, and the software had edited his head onto the gowns in the scene. “Oh, these are perfect,” she said. “A sweet little memento of our educational afternoon.”
 
       In the gift shop, there were custom souvenir pewter frames for sale for the photos with three small openings arranged beneath a scrollwork heading engraved with the museum’s name. Of course, Aunt Patricia bought one. “You can keep it in your room and remember today,” she smiled. To Edward’s dismay, his aunt also a rack of replica Victorian accessories. Among them was a yellow parasol with a carved handle, scalloped edging, and lace-like trim that almost exactly matched the shade of Edward’s dress. Aunt Patricia picked it up with a delighted gasp. “How could we possibly leave without this?” she said. Edward’s heart sank.

       So, when they left the museum, Edward carried his yellow parasol folded against his shoulder, feeling even more conspicuous than when he had arrived. The afternoon sun shone on the museum steps, and Aunt Patricia immediately decided it was too perfect an opportunity to waste. “Just a few photographs, darling,” she said, guiding him to stand beside one of the stone columns. “Open your parasol. There! Chin up.” Edward obeyed, mortified as passersby watched him posing so girlishly in front of the museum in his yellow dress with a matching Victorian parasol. Aunt Patricia took several pictures while praising how sweet he looked.

       Standing so daintily in his darling frock, Edward felt completely sissified as his Saturday was overtaken by smothering girlishness. With a pained feeling, he thought of how much fun those boys must be having at their baseball game.

       â€œJust one or two more, darling,” his aunt instructed, “and smile for me!”

       â€œYes, Aunty,” he replied. He forced a weak smile.

Chapter 395.

He had hardly put the plate down when he felt a tugging and the back of his skirt.
“Don’t go
please
I just wanted to ask
”
It was the woman at the opposite table.
“Is this latex?  It’s so
sensual
”
Connie replied for him.
“Yes.  Best quality.  Would you like to know where we get it?”
“Very much
if you don’t mind
”
Connie passed a Fantastex business card.  “They can do amazing things with latex.  You’ll be amazed at the range.  It’s really worth a visit.”
“Popsi?”  it was Maria calling.  “Order waiting here.  Table three.”
He scurried off.
“That boy
”
“He’s in maid training.  He can be a maid or a pageboy.  Or just a houseboy if necessary, but he’s a bit too pretty for that really.”
The woman looked curious.
“It’s a company called ESDS.  Egerton’s Special Domestic Services.  You can hire from them by the day or week.  The boys are properly trained to be polite and efficient and, usually, obedient.  You should try them.”
“I shall
”
“Me too,” said her friend, enthusiastically.
“I’ve run out of cards
”  She turned to Maria.  “Maria?  Do you have any ESDS cards?”
“I have leaflets.  A whole stack of them.”  She reached under the counter.  “Popsi?  Take these.  Hand them out to anyone who wants one.”
Of course, everyone wanted one. 
“I’ve got so many of these,” grinned Maria.  “After that time I hired a boy maid as a waitress – what was his name?  Danny, I think
something like that -  I used to hand them out.  But then it became too much hassle, and I stopped.  I must have several hundred here
”
“Why don’t you put one in every menu?” suggested Connie.  “Or get someone to hand them out in the street.”
“Good idea, Connie.  Popsi?  Perhaps you could do that this afternoon.  Gwen’s back at one, so I won’t need you inside.”
“Of course he will,” said Connie.  “Then we can go and have a drink somewhere and relax.”
“But mayn’t he run off instead,” said Maria, doubtfully.
“Oh!  What a coincidence, Maria!” Connie replied, with a wink.  “I just happen to have a length of chain and a couple of padlocks with me.  If I’m not mistaken, there’s an old tethering ring on your wall.  And my chain is just the right length to attach his collar to that ring!”
“There is!  How perfect.  Then I won’t have to worry at all.”
“Super!”
Tim looked at them with dismay.  It slowly dawned on him that this was all a put-up job.  Everyone in the cafĂ© was now enjoying the joke.  The joke at his expense.   And things were about to get even worse.
“What about that special offer you had in mind,” continued Connie.  “Did you manage to get the things ready
?”
“I did, as a matter of fact.  I hope Popsi – I mean Tim -  will be okay with it
”
“Of course he will.  He loves the attention.  Don’t you Tim?  Maria, show him what you got for him.”
“Shall I?”
“Go on
”
By now everyone in the teashop had stopped eating and drinking and were paying attention.  Maria smiled a mischievous smile, and reached under the counter. 
“A little present for my special boy waitress.”  And she held them up.  “Taraa
!”

Chapter 393.

“Now, are you going to behave?  Or do I have to get my whip out?  That’s better.  What do you think of those pretty gloves?  Gorgeous, aren’t they?  Hold them up so we can see them.  That’s it.  There, they really are just the perfect finishing touch, don’t you think?  What was that, Tim?”
With his new ball gag, poor Tim could do little more than grunt.  Excellent, thought Connie.  She’d be able to tease him mercilessly all day.  And for punishments she’d think about some special mitts so he wouldn’t be able to pull at anything – or even pleasure himself properly!  How amusing.  This evening she’d update Cassandra.  She’d loved the videos.  Everyone at ESDS had. If Tim knew they were going to be available to subscribers
  She smiled to herself.  Well, it was his fault for being so cute, for being such a show-off, and being such an easy dupe.
“Well, we might as well get going.  We’ll be early, but we can have a nice walk round the village first.  It’s very pretty.  Looks olde-worldy, but there’s plenty of money there, take it from me, girls.  Anyway
”
They got there coats and headed for the door.  Tim was having to be cajoled along.  Finally Connie got him outside.  She had to accompany him to the car, and return to shut the door.
“What a fuss!” she murmured as she went down the path for the second time.  “But once we’re there, he won’t have any choice
”