Simon

[Simonssister]

Chapter XXXVII:  Gymkhana  (Part 1, A Falling Out)

Sunday 28 August.  I’ll pass over the events of Saturday afternoon.  Suffice it to say, both Clarissa and Sadie turned up at the salon just after five requiring my services, and left forty minutes later with their best boots safely wrapped in plastic bags.  The shiny boots competition was of necessity to be held in one of the marquees, or it would have turned into a “least muddy boots” competition.

After they left, I had a visit from Tamsin.  She went over the programme with me.  There were various classes in the morning, mainly devoted to showing – best turned out pony, best turned out rider, most correct riding style, best walker, trotter, and so on.  There would be a dressage competition for the kids, another one for older riders.  The morning events would be rounded off with pony racing around the perimeter of the big field.  The afternoon would be dominated by the games – the usual things, relay bending races, 
“There’ll be kids from other schools competing as well,” said Tamsin, “but ours will be the best.  Sue is totally dedicated to training the rider.  She won’t let anyone compete, even in these fun events, until she’s completely happy they’ve properly mastered the basics.”
“I’d noticed she was fanatical about rider training and safety.  I don’t blame her.  Stella used to take me to loads of these things when I was younger, and there were some terrible examples of bad riding.”
“It’s true.  Rebecca and I were with her once, a couple of years ago, when she saw some stupid girl kicking her horse and yanking on the reins at the same time.  Sue went over and ordered her to dismount.  The organiser was furious, but Sue faced her down, and Rebecca arrived on the scene and asserted her authority.  That school went out of business soon after.”
“She’s very strict with me, but she really cares about her horses.”
“All horses, Simon.  Like me.  I love them more than people, with a few notable exceptions.  Now, as to you and Billy, you’ll make your appearance sometime before midday.  I reckon at least half an hour in the parade ring, being led around by your grooms.  That’ll give the girls time to set up the equipment for the afternoon’s events.  When they’ve finished, you two can show off a bit.  I’ll go through your programme now.  We’ll strap the doll to Billy’s back, and you can both race over the bendy course – you know, the slalom.”
“Yeah, I know.  What are you using for gates?”
“Oh, we’ve got some of those little cones like sticks.  They’re best.”
“Okay.  But if Billy doesn’t have a rider – well not a real one, anyway – what’s going to impel him?”
“Elizabeth will run alongside, though of course there won’t be room to lead him.  But the main thing is, he’ll be equipped with an earpiece under his hood, so that I’ll be able to give him instructions via a hand-held transmitter.  We use these systems a lot now for training and guiding riders – I think Sue ordered ten or twelve of them recently.  So there’ll be no excuse.”
“No.  Especially as he’s become so obedient now.”
“Well I hope so.  I do have a back-up system if he starts misbehaving, but I hope I won’t have to use it.”
“Not the ball-gag, I hope?”
“No, no.  I certainly hope that won’t be necessary.  No, you’ll both have your normal bits with the snap-rings, so we can release them quickly if we need to.  I’m sure some people are going to want to offer you sweets and things!”
“I don’t fancy much being fed like a pony.  All those sticky fingers pushing stuff into my mouth.”
“No.  We won’t allow that, don’t worry.  But for the sake of authenticity, Geraldine should be seen give you a little treat after you do one of your tricks.”
“Fair enough.”

I arrived at Holly End at nine this morning.  It was a lovely sunny day, with a cloudless blue sky.  I went straight down to visit Billy.  He had been transformed from the muddy, exhausted animal I had seen only the day before.  His suit was glossy, his hooves oiled, all his tack had been cleaned, soaped, and polished, and Jean was just finishing plaiting his tail, which depended from his posterior like a hairy sausage.
“I’m going to do yours too, when you’re ready,” she said, “otherwise it’ll get caked with mud.”
“How are you feeling, Billy,” I asked.
“Great, Sim!  Look, Tamsin found me a nice red bit” – he shook his head, making the unattached bit swing from side to side – “and I’ll have my red plume, too.  I just hope it’s not too muddy down there.”
“It’ll be fine round the edges of the parade ring,” said Jean, “but the middle and the fields may be a bit of a problem.  Try to walk carefully, and avoid slipping over, and you should be all right.”
At that moment Beth walked through the stable door.
“Hi Sim!  What do you think of him?”
“He looks very pretty, Beth.  You’ve done a great job!  I’m even a little jealous!”
“Yeah, I must admit we’re the best.  We even polished him all over with rubber polish.  You liked, that, didn’t you, pony?”
Billy nodded enthusiastically.
“He seems very happy all suited up,” I remarked.  “Personally, I’m not getting ready till eleven.  That’ll be plenty of time.”
“I need half an hour to do your tail,” said Jean.  “Make it ten-thirty.”
“Okay.  Can’t you do it separately?”
“No, Simon.  I need to make sure it hangs properly.”
“Oh.  Okay.  I suppose.”
There was a knock at the door.  It was Tamsin.
“Can I come in?  I’ve got Billy’s you-know-what.”  She produced a black bin bag. 
“Aha!  The doll!” smiled Beth.
“The what?” queried Billy, trying to crane round, “I can’t hear very well with this hood on.”
“Keep still, Billy!” ordered Jean.  “I’m nearly finished here.”
“Put his blinkers on, Beth,” said Tamsin in a low voice.  “Probably better he can’t see what’s going to be on his back.  Oh, and I have the bells, too.  Here.”
“Bells?” I said.
“Bells!  Bells for his bridle and for the stirrups.  Don’t worry, you’ve got a set too.  We want you to jungle as you trot along.”
“What, in case we don’t attract enough attention as we are?”
“Now, now, Simon.  Don’t be ungrateful or I’ll put a bell on your tail as well.  Or somewhere else you won’t like.  What time are you coming up to get dressed?”
“Jean says I need to start at ten-thirty.”
“Good.  I’ll see you then.”

I left Billy in the capable hands of Beth and Jean, and went to the canteen for a coffee.  The path was already getting busy with people coming from the car park, and others drifting up from the showground to call at Reception. I was suffering with a bad case of butterflies in the tummy.  I must have looked nervous, too, because Sue came over and asked if I was feeling all right.  At twenty past ten I decided it would be better to get started rather than sit there in a stew, so I made my way to the changing room.  I caught a glimpse of Geraldine in Reception, resplendent in her black and yellow outfit, looking very excited.  When I got to the changing room, Tamsin and Rebecca were already there, sitting waiting and looking very relaxed.
“Good morning, Simon,” said Tamsin, without getting up.  “You’re nice and early.  We’ll let you get the basics on, shall we?  You’ll find them in the cubicle.”
While I was changing, Jean arrived.  I heard Rebecca say, “I see you’ve got your kit ready.  He’ll be out in a minute.  You can attend to the rear end while we look after the fore end!”  They all laughed.  Huh.  Yeah, that’s right, it’s all a big joke for you, I thought.  But I’m the only one whose performance counts today.  Me and Billy, that is.

Once they had my hooves and fore legs sorted out, I had to stand there while I was saddled and bridled and had my tail plaited.  When Jean had finished it felt quite different from before.  The weight of the tail was concentrated, so that when I walked it swung from side to side, knocking against my calves.  That was nothing, however, to the weird sensation of the plug moving from side to side inside me.  It felt a little uncomfortable but stimulating at the same time.  When I was ready, the yellow plume was fixed in my browband and my bit was attached.  Then came the little silver bells.  One was attached to each bit ring and one to each stirrup.  I jingled prettily as Tamsin led me around the room.
“There.  I think you’re ready.  You look lovely.”
She clipped one end of the reins to my nearside bit ring, and led me out towards Reception, Rebecca and Jean following.  When Geraldine saw me she almost jumped for joy.  Tamsin gave her a few last words of advice.
“Now, darling, remember the programme.  You’ll lead him down to the parade ring, and just lead him around at first, until I tell you you can mount.  At one the games will start, and as long as you keep him away from the events and out of the way of the competitors, I don’t really mind what you do with him.  You’ll do your show later in the afternoon.  But don’t worry, I or Rebecca or Sue will be around all day long if you need any help.”
“Can we go now?  Please?” begged Geraldine.
“Just a moment.  I’ll check what’s happening with Billy.”  She pulled out her phone and made a call.  “Beth?  Hi. Where are you with the grey?  Oh, fine.  Just text me when you’re bringing him out, and we’ll follow you.  We should keep about fifty yards behind you, I think.  The path looks quite busy already.”  She turned back to Geraldine.  “Won’t be long now, dear.  Here, why don’t you hold onto him now.”  And she passed the reins over.

We had to wait about another ten minutes in Reception.  People were coming in and out the whole time, and of course I suffered various indignities from their attention.  How many times did I have to listen to stuff like,
“Oh, look, darling – it’s Simon the pony!  Yes, I’m sure you can pat him.”
“Mummy, why is he dribbling?”
“Oh, he’s so cute!”
“Look at his little hooves!”
“Oh, I wish I had a pony like that!”
“Could I have a ride on him later?”
“Does he like Polos?”
“Why is he biting his bit like that?”
“That girl’s his groom.  She’s so lucky!”
And indeed, Geraldine stood proudly next to me, keeping on a tight rein, and occasionally telling me to “stand still” or “be patient”, just to show she was indeed in charge of me.  The worst thing was when people wanted to look at my tail.  They always asked permission, and Geraldine always graciously gave it,
“Look at his tail!  So beautifully plaited!  May we touch it?”
“Yes, if you’re careful,” she would respond.  And then it would be gently tugged, and lifted up for examination, by people who had no idea how it was attached to me, making me squirm and fidget, while Geraldine would give me a corrective tap or two with her whip.

It was a relief when Tamsin received the information that Billy was being brought of his stable, and we were able to emerge from Reception and start down the hill.  We hadn’t gone far when I saw the little grey turning into the path, led by Elizabeth, resplendent in a white shirt, Pony Club tie, cream breeches, and of course, her famous red boots, and followed by Mrs More-Burley, even more puffed-up with pride than usual.  He created quite a sensation, and he hadn’t progressed more than fifty yards before he had attracted a little crowd of followers.  The same happened to us, but he was clearly the favourite.  People always like greys.  And in his red tack and with his red plume nodding, he looked something quite special.  As we approached the boxes and the parade ring at the foot of the hill, it became obvious that it was going to be a busy day.  The area was already overflowing with people, and the fields beyond were busy with riders and horses and ponies.  A sort of cheer went up when Billy was seen nearing the ring, and as he entered it I could already hear multiple cameras clicking.  Our entrance was something of an anti-climax, as all attention seemed to be focused on him, as he was paraded on the far side of the ring.  Fortunately, I don’t think Geraldine noticed, and she led me in as proudly as if I were the only pony there.  We were led round for several circuits, keeping at opposite sides of the paddock, and then brought onto the grass in the middle.  Billy and I looked at each other, neither of us able to express much emotion given the restricted openings in our hoods and the presence of our bits, and in Billy’s case the further obstruction of blinkers.  But to me he looked quite placid and content.  Then we both heard at the same time a voice calling to us from the front of the crowd.  We looked up.  Alicia from St. Catherine’s!  Oh, no!  I think we both had the same thought – that she would be so disgusted with us that she would report to Miss Mortimer, and that would be the end of our aspirations to attend St. Catherine’s.  She ducked under the rail and walked over.  Squatting down, she patted our cheeks.
“Boys.  I saw the posters, so I only expected Simon.  But you too, Billy!”
We would have liked to make excuses for our embarrassing predicament, but we couldn’t articulate a single useful word.
“Miss Mortimer’s here too!”  I groaned inwardly.  We were finished.
“She’s so proud of you, doing all this for charity.  She’s good friends with Violet Willoughby, and she speaks so highly of you.  She hopes you may be able to raise money for the school, too, when you join us.  And of course, I’m going to insist you join the equestrian club!”  She giggled.  “The first years are going to love you!”  We looked at each other with relief, and tried to smile at Alicia.  But she was already disappearing back into the crowd. 
It was time to be mounted.  While Geraldine climbed astride me, Tamsin approached Billy from behind carrying the big doll.  She was placed in the saddle, and Tamsin and Beth strapped her ankles to the saddle bars, making sure she was secure.  His saddle was fitted with stirrups, and these Tamsin fastened together under his belly with a leather strap. 
“We’re just securing your stirrups, Billy,” explained Tamsin, raising her voice so he could hear her through his hood, “so they don’t swing about as you’re walking.”
Nevertheless, I’m sure the poor guy could tell there was something on his back, but he was hardly in a position to ask what it was.  The ripple of laughter that had run round the crowd when the doll was produced now rose to a crescendo.  Billy looked puzzled.  Tamsin tested her transmitter.
“Billy?  Can you hear me okay?”
Billy nodded. 
“Excellent.  Now Geraldine will ride Simon, and you follow, okay?”
He nodded again.
The plan was to spend the next half hour or so going around the ring, mainly to demonstrate Geraldine’s skill at riding and the way she could control me just like a real pony.  Billy was supposed to follow us, but it had been decided that it would be more entertaining if, after a while, he would start being a bit naughty, turning around and walking the other way, nudging at the crowd as if trying to escape, refusing to stay on the tarmac, and so on.  Elizabeth would be at his side, and she was supposed to get angry with him, telling him off and occasionally holding him back by his tail.  The joke would be all the more effective because of the big doll swaying about on his back!  When we began the crowd was already five or six deep.  The main games were not due to start until one, and the only other point of interest was the little market in front of the row of loose boxes, so everyone wanted to see what was going on in the ring.  There was a constant hubbub of chattering and laughing, and it looked like everyone was either taking pictures or filming.  When Billy started to play up, he looked so ludicrous that even Geraldine and Elizabeth couldn’t conceal their amusement, although they were supposed to be acting irate and indignant.  He did his job superbly, butting his groom, walking onto the grass and refusing to move, running at the crowd and making the kids squeal with fright and laughter, all the time with his little bells tinkling crazily.  Everything was going to plan, and it was almost time for the games to start, when disaster struck.  Billy had been playing to one section of the crowd, pushing at their legs.  A little girl had knelt down to get a close up of the “silly pony” on her phone.  Unfortunately, she then decided to show her picture to the pony itself.  When Billy saw what was on his back, he froze.  He explained to me that evening how outraged he felt, and I understood perfectly.  He had thought his antics were responsible for all the hilarity.  When he saw what he was carrying, he felt betrayed, made a fool of.  He refused to move.  The show was halted.  The crowd quietened.  People were asking what was happening.  Tamsin was standing near me, and I could hear her speaking to Billy over the transmitter,
“Billy!  Come here at once!  What are you doing, boy?  Come here, I say.  It’s time for you to leave the ring now.”
He ignored her instruction, shaking his head.  Geraldine dismounted and we stood side by side, waiting to see what would happen.
“Elizabeth?” she called.  “Use your whip!  Get him over here!”
The spectators were puzzled.  They couldn’t work out if this was a part of the act, or whether this sweet little pony really was being recalcitrant.  In any case, Elizabeth eagerly complied, giving Billy a smack down the flank, and saying, “Bad pony!  Move!  Back to the gate at once!” 
But instead of obeying, Billy turned to face her, and charged.  She was knocked over backwards onto the grass.  By an unhappy chance, the sat down hard in the deepest patch of mud in the ring, which we had been assiduously avoiding up to then.  She screamed and went to get up, but her boots slipped on the slimy surface and she went down again, this time on her side.  Her outfit was totally wrecked.  She clambered to her feet, sobbing loudly, and limped back towards the gate, where her mother was waiting to embrace her, and hurl imprecations at Billy.  I could see by the expression on Billy’s face that he knew he had made a huge mistake.  He told me afterwards it was not only the fear of the punishment that he knew must follow, but that immediately Elizabeth went down, he regretted what he had done.  He knew perfectly well that the presence of the doll was none of her doing.  It was just that she had been the nearest available member of the team on which to vent his anger.  As he stood there, staring fearfully across the ring at Tamsin, she thrust the transmitter back into her pocket and took out her phone.  Who was she going to call, I wondered.   

[Simonssister]

Chapter XXXVII Gymkhana  (Part 2, An Unexpected Friend )

It turned out Tamsin had a trick up her sleeve, one that no-one would have expected.  She fiddled with her phone for a moment.  I tried to see what she was doing, but it was difficult from my low standpoint.  Suddenly there was a strangled shriek from across the ring.  I looked over, and saw Billy almost spinning round and round on the spot, his eyes wide with fear.  Tamsin, still holding her phone, took out the transmitter once more.
“Are you going to come here, or do I have to give you another one?”
Immediately, Billy came barrelling over as fast as his little legs could carry him, his doll bouncing up and down comically in the saddle.  His eyes were full of tears.  Tamsin looked down at him contemptuously.
“Get over there into box number one, you little wimp, and don’t come out!  I’ll deal with you later.”
“He must be severely punished!” exclaimed Mrs More-Burley, still hugging the muddy Elizabeth to her bosom.  “I’d give him a good thrashing!”
“Don’t worry, Mrs More-Birley, he’ll be punished all right.”  She turned to the group of grooms nearby who had been watching the whole thing with open mouths.  “Denise.  And Laura.  Could you please take Elizabeth up to the office and get her cleaned up?  Wash her boots and gloves, find her some clean breeches and a riding top.  Give her something to eat and drink, and when she’s quite recovered bring her back to me.”
“Yes Miss!  Come on Elizabeth, come with us,” said Denise, taking her hand and gently detaching her from her mother’s embrace.  The mother went to follow the, but Tamsin stopped her.
“It’s better you stay here, madam.  Sometimes a mother’s concern only makes a child more distressed.”
Mrs More-Burley was about to protest, seeing Tamsin’s expression she realised it would be advisable to keep her peace.   I admired Tamsin for her understanding of the basic psychology of families, and her facility to command difficult or overbearing individuals like Mrs More-Burley with a single glance.  I also marvelled at her technical ingenuity.  I now realised the function of the metal tip to Billy’s butt-plug.  I shuddered slightly to think of the effect of even a weak electric current.  Tamsin had thought of everything.  I thanked my stars mine was solid rubber.

But the events had now begun, and I had other things to think about.  Geraldine and I were now free to roam about the showground.  She remounted and kicked me into a walk.
“Poor Billy,” she said, “what do you think scared him like that?”  Of course, all her questions were necessarily rhetorical when I was bitted up.  “I think he’s just frightened of Tamsin, don’t you?”
She rode me over to the ice-cream stall and bought a lolly.  I walked around the event ground, being patted and petted all the way, and with Geraldine letting me have slightly impeded suc-ks of her lolly.  We had stopped and were watching some of the races, when we were aware of a slight commotion near the parade ring.  Elizabeth had returned.  She was wearing clean white breeches and a red riding top which matched her red accessories.  I noticed her boots were now equipped with little blunt spurs.  She had a determined expression on her face.  She didn’t want to talk to her mother, but immediately followed Tamsin into the first box, where Billy was being kept.  A few minutes later they emerged.  The doll had now been removed, and Elizabeth herself was mounted on Billy.  She walked him clear of the crowds around the show field, then with a sudden movement dug both spurs into his flanks, and brought her little whip down hard on his nether regions.  Poor Billy!  He took off like a frightened deer.  I swear he would have outrun me at the trot.  She took him right over to the far end of the field, and brought him all the way back.  Then she rode him over to the judges, of whom Rebecca was one, and asked if she could be a late entry for the bending race.  It was slightly unorthodox for a human pony to take part, but it was decided she could race after the others had finished.  The combination was cheered louder than all the real competitors.  Elizabeth steered Billy around the cones, down the course and then back again.  After a few moments rest, she was off again trotting around proudly, in full control of her mount.  At last she allowed herself a smile.  She had had her revenge.  She drove him into the market and was given an ice-cream by the ladies on the ice-cream stall, which she sat there licking with satisfaction, quite unconcerned about the drips which landed on the head of her mount and trickled down his forehead.  It was at that moment Sue approached and asked if Elizabeth could ride Billy over to the large tent at the top of the field.  She would be told why when she got there.  Billy described the scene to me the next day.  Walking into the marquee the first thing they saw was Clarissa, seated on a throne (made of a Holly End chair painted gold and fixed to the top of pallet), with a sash around her shoulder bearing the legend, “Queen Shiny Boots”.  Yes, she had won again, and Sadie had been runner-up.  She had received a special commendation too – a certificate to the effect that not only were her boots shinier than anyone else’s, but they were “clean enough to eat one’s food off”!  The judges had decided, at Sue’s suggestion, that this assertion should be tested, so Billy was sent for.  Apart from anything else, it seemed appropriate that the Queen should have homage paid to her by one of her lowliest subjects.  His bit was unclipped, and Elizabeth generously donated what was left of her ice-cream.  Using the cone as a sort of paintbrush, Sue smeared the melting ice-cream all over Clarissa’s gleaming rubber boots, and requested Billy to lick off every last drip.  Billy being very hot and dry by this time, was only too happy to comply, encouraged by his rider, and within fifteen minutes or so Clarissa’s boots were once again in their pristine state.  He told me afterwards Clarissa’s boots had a rather unusual, though not unpleasant, taste, and that the experience was the most pleasurable he had had, that rather unlucky day.
After the diversion to the Queen of Shiny Boots, Elizabeth was becoming tired of riding Billy, so she handed the reins to Denise, who led him to the muddiest side of the field and used him to give the little kids rides at fifty pence a go.  Geraldine and I left him pursuing that useful occupation while we performed our tricks on a piece of relatively firm ground.   I jumped the pole with aplomb, much to the delight of the crowd, received my reward treat, and we retired from the field happy and mutually congratulatory.

When the gymkhana was over, and the crowds dispersed, we all made our way wearily back up the path towards the offices.
“Well, that was the best one ever,” said Sue, “mainly thanks to you guys.  I’ve never had a crowd as big as that before.  Violet’s going to be pleased.  I don’t know yet how much we’ve taken, but it’s going to be a lot more than last time.”
“You girls were great,” said Rebecca.  “You’re both such accomplished riders for your age.”
“We had the best ponies,” said Geraldine.
“You did,” complained Mrs More-Burley.  “My poor Elizabeth had to made to with a rude, aggressive pig!  Miss Stratford told me a I could flog him this evening if I wished, and I’m going to take her up on that!”  She glared at Billy, who looked miserable.  But then there was an unexpected reaction.
“No, you’re not, mummy!” cried Elizabeth.  “Apart from the fact he’s my pony, my responsibility, I’m fed up with you getting involved in everything I do.  You never let me enjoy anything by myself.  I’ve had enough!”
Her mother was speechless for a moment.
“But
but
 I’m only trying to do the best for you, darling
”
“Well beating my pony is not best for me, is it?  I want my pony to love me.  I want to invite him to my party, like Simon pony is going to Geraldine’s.  I want to look after him properly, and care for him, not be cruel to him!  I don’t blame him for pushing me over.  He had a horrible trick played on him.  So there!”
That was it.  Elizabeth demonstrated a humanity and a will none of us had credited her with.  Her mother just shut up and didn’t say another word.  Billy stared at his little groom with something like affection in his expression, but quickly snuffed it out when he saw me looking at him.  As we approached Reception, Sue said,
“You boys must be exhausted.  Why don’t you stay the night here?  Billy, your mum has already said you can stay as long as you like.  Why don’t I make up camp beds for you and Simon in one of the back rooms?”
“Yes, please, Sue,” I said.
“I’d like to stay,” said Billy, “but if you don’t mind, I’ll go back down and sleep in my stable.”
“Ooh, yes, please, Billy,” said Denise, “me and Laura will look after you again!”
“Okay,” grinned Billy, “it’s a deal.  And tomorrow I’ll change back into being a human again.  But for this last night, I’m still Billy the Pony!”

[krystalasbaby2017]

I know Sim has had enough being a pony but i wonder about Billy, he seems to enjoy it.

[Simonssister]

Chapter XXXVIII:  School Show

Thursday September 1.  It took me a couple of days to recover from the exertions of the gymkhana.  But there was no time to rest.  Today was the Queen Alexandra show, and I was opening and closing.  Miss Benson had told me to be at school by three-thirty latest.  I went straight to the hall ante-room, where she, Miss Morel, and, to my surprise, Janice from Harriet’s party, were waiting for me. 
“Hi Simon.  If you’re wondering why I’m here, I had a summons through the grapevine.  I understand you need a little bit of makeup for your roles tonight?”
“Do I?”
“Of course, Silly!” said Miss Benson.  “You’re supposed to be a girl.  You need to look like one.”
“Oh, yeah, I suppose
”
“Have you seen the programme?  All the performers are named, except you.  You’re referred to as “Anonymata”.  We thought that’d pique people’s curiosity.”
“How are you, anyway?” asked Janice.  “It’s great to see you again.  Sadie tells me you’re going to St. Catherine’s this year.  I’m so pleased.  You’re going to fit in there perfectly.  My friend’s daughter went there, and she was so happy.”
“Yeah, Janice.  Me and Billy.  We’re a bit nervous about it, but it looks great.  We’re gonna share a room.”
“Brilliant!  Now let me see your costumes, so I can work out what I need to do.”
Miss Benson produced my pink dress, which was now accompanied by one blue and one yellow sock.  Then the leotard and pants, with one green and one yellow hooped sock.
“I see,” said Janice.  “I suggest we pick up the colours of the socks, then.  For the opening act you should have blue eye shadow and blue lipstick.  I have some big yellow earrings which will match the yellow sock.  For the closer you can keep the earrings, but we’ll change the makeup to green.  How’s that sound?”
“Great,” said Miss Benson.  “Everything else will be pink or purple and pink, right down to his shoes.  And for the closer he’ll have a pink cap too.”
“I’m going to look like a clown, miss,” I remarked surlily.
“Yes, Simon, that’s sort of the idea?  You’re there to provide laughs, as usual, nothing else.”
“But I did all the practice so well.  Miss Morel said I was very talented.  And I’ve got all the gestures off pat, just like you said.”
“And you’re going to be a big hit.  Don’t start complaining now, please.”
“I’ll do your make-up about an hour before you’re due to go on,” said Janice, “so it won’t get messed up.  Cheer up, Simon!  I’ll make you look so pretty!”
“I’m sure you will, Janice.  But it’s the closer I’m more worried about, when the audience will twig I’m a boy.  I’m going to get off the stage as soon as possible after that!”

Janice made me up at six.  The school hall was already filling up.  I peeped through the curtain to see if I could recognise anyone.  I could see some of my classmates.  Alice and Debbie were there, along with Maia, Ophelia, and several other girls from the barbecue.  They might well recognise me, having already seen me dressed as a girl.  Then half the Committee seemed to have infiltrated the event.  I saw Tamsin chatting to Sadie, and who was that at the end of the third row?  Oh my god, Carmelita!  I blushed as I remembered our last encounter.  Bea and Stella, of course.  But even more disconcerting was the presence of Jacquetta Wright in the very first row!  Why was she here?  Someone must have told her I was performing, and she’d come to see me live, as it were.  I didn’t want to appear amateur, so I knew I’d have to put on a good performance now.  I felt like this evening was a sort of audition.  One which, for some reason, I really wanted to be successful.
My thoughts were interrupted by Miss Benson.
“Fifteen minutes, Simon.  You all ready?  You look fantastic!”
I nodded.  Yeah, I was colourful all right.  And I was confident, having been so well schooled by Miss Morel.  And, to be honest, I felt good just being in a pretty dress, after days of being trussed up as a pony.  I felt I had reverted to my natural personality, and my natural, if not intrinsic, gender.

The plan was, for the curtain to go up, and the spotlights to find me there in the middle of the stage.  I would look around with mock surprise for a moment or two, then the music would start, and I would sing my four verses, complete with dance routine and gestures.  And things actually went to plan.  When the curtain went up and the spotlights came on, a ripple of quiet surprise and laughter ran around the hall.  With the accompaniment, my little act lasted quite five minutes, and ended in an explosion of applause, as I curtsied sweetly and exited stage left.  I dashed off into the arms of Miss Morel, who whispered congratulations in my ear as the next act took the stage.
“That was amazing, Simon.  You were a hit!  Well done.  Flushed with my success, and out of breath, I made my way back to my ‘dressing room’ - a corner of the ante-room – where Janice was waiting to take off my blue makeup and replace it with green.
“That was so perfect, darling!  Everyone loved it.  And it was such a surprise.  They were all expecting some mediocre recitation or a kid playing a violin.”
“Thanks, Janice.  Yeah, I think it went really well.”
“I’ll change your makeup now, and then you can change costume.  But there’s no hurry.  I think the programme’s scheduled to take about two hours.”
Janice took off the blue and replaced it with green.  The earrings remained.  I hung around in the ante-room for a while, then made my way into the space behind the stage.  A boy band was playing, much to the delight of the girls in the audience.  There were two more acts before me.  Time to get changed.  I went back and found my costume.  The room was empty.  I took off my dress and my shoes and socks, and picked up the leotard.  I climbed into it and pulled it up.  It slid on readily, but something was wrong.  To my surprise, I realised that a neat round hole had been cut in the crotch.  As I looked down at myself with dismay, everything I had fell out through this hole, which had been neatly hemmed and elasticated.  I picked up my pants and quickly drew them on.  I sensed they were not quite the same as those I’d worn for the dress rehearsal.  The rubber seemed thinner and lighter, though. the waistband was thicker, and had a raised section at the front, with a little silver button in the middle, and the front centre seam was also raised, like a cord.  At that moment I heard a voice behind me.
“Hello, Simon.  How are you?  Lovely to see you.”
“Carmelita!  What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been sent as your dresser, that’s all.  Here, you’ll need some help with those.”
I noticed she was wearing blue rubber gloves.  She approached me, but I had no idea what she was planning to do.  Before I could take evasive action, she had reached down the front of my pants and taken hold of me.
“What are you doing?”
“You need arranging, that’s all.  I was elected, as the only person with practical experience.  These pants are designed to keep you in place, and avoid embarrassment.  Look.  See these?”
She showed me a little rubber loop in the crotch of my pants, and another a couple of inches higher.
“These will make sure everything stays in place.  Keep still a moment.”
She stretched open the lower loop, and carefully drew everything through.  Then with the same care she pulled my boyhood through the upper loop, and allowed that to close on it, gripping it firmly.
“There.  That should keep you in check.  We don’t want any unfortunate exhibitions tonight.”
“There weren’t going to be any, Carmy.  I was completely fine.  This is all quite unnecessary.”
“Well, better to be safe than sorry.”
“Huh.  It was Tamsin, wasn’t it?  Why does she take such pleasure controlling everything I do?  Right down to the position of my genitals, apparently!”
“Simon, dear, please don’t be upset.  Come on.  You’re on in a few minutes.  Here, give me a cuddle.”
She drew me to her and put her arms around me.  I smelt her perfume, the same that she had worn at Rebecca’s house.  I felt myself beginning to remember our previous encounter, and I pulled back, wary of becoming aroused.  Carmelita helped me on with my socks, shoes, and cap, and accompanied me to the side of the stage.  The penultimate act finished, and the curtain came down.  She led me to centre stage, and gave me a kiss.
“Good luck, Simon.  You’ll need it!” she smiled.  As the curtain began to ascend, she reached down and pressed the little silver button, and immediately hurried off the stage. In an instant, the spotlights had caught me, and I curtsied once more before beginning my act.  As the music started to play, I felt the faintest tickling sensation at the base of my boyhood.  It took me a moment to realise what was going on, but then inn a flash I understood the significance of the raised waistband, the cord-like seam, and the loops.  I stood there, frozen into immobility, and completely missed my cue.  Frantically in jabbed at the silver button, but to no effect.  It seemed there was only an ‘on’ control.  In the glare of the spotlights I was quite unable to see the audience, but I could sense the puzzlement.  The vibration was low frequency, but soon attained a steady level of intensity impossible to ignore.  However, I told myself, the show must go on!  The music started again, and this time I came in on cue.  But as my act progressed, the relentless process of stimulation produced the inevitable result.  The last lines of the final verse,

“Now you have seen that I’m a boy,
My girly act was just a ploy!”
was simply a statement of the patently obvious, especially for those in the first few rows.  Gripped firmly by the rubber loops, my quivering sausage had swelled to its full proportions, and stood proudly nudging at the waistband of my pants.  As the music finished, I bowed awkwardly to the audience and headed for the wings.  But I wasn’t going to escape so easily.  Miss Benson came striding on, caught me half way, and, putting her arm round my waist, almost dragged me back to the centre.  She turned me to face the audience, and, putting one hand on my shoulder, raised the other for silence.
“Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen and children.  Thank you so much for coming this evening and helping to make our show such a success!  I’m sure we are all grateful to” – and here she recited the full list of acts – “for entertaining us, but I want to say an especially big thank you to Simon here, who many of you will already be acquainted with, for his memorable contribution in both opening and closing our show.”  (Applause.)  “Unfortunately, Simon will be leaving us for St. Catherine’s Girls this year, but I’m sure he will fit in perfectly there.”  She manoeuvred herself next to me, wrapping one arm around my waist.  “If any of you would like to come up and say goodbye – or indeed, hello – please feel free to do so.  Thank you once again and good night to you all!”
By the time she had finished this speech I was dizzy with arousal.  The vibrator buzzed on relentlessly.
“Please, miss, let me go and get changed,” I begged, “I’m
I’m
not going to be able to hold out much
”
“Shh, Simon,” she whispered.  “Look, your fans are already coming up to congratulate you!”
And she stayed by my side, making sure I couldn’t escape, as people came to shake my hand.  I could already feel my climax approaching as Jacquetta Wright neared the front of the queue.  She was dressed in one of her slightly fetishistic outfits – black leather jacket and skirt over a gold latex top – and the final straw came, (and so did I), when she took my hand in hers, for she wore little black rubber gloves.  If Miss Benson hadn’t supported me, I would have sunk to the floor.  Jacquetta waited politely for my spasms to subside.
“Simon.  So nice to see you again.  Do you feel better now?  I have to say, that’s the most flattering reaction to a handshake I’ve ever had!  I won’t keep you from your admirers, but I just wanted to say how impressed I was with your performance this evening, especially under such difficult conditions.”
“Are you sure?  I thought after that
”
“Oh, don’t worry.  Didn’t you know?  I’m an associate member now, so I’m in on all the plans.  In fact, the vibrator ring was my idea.  I wanted to see how you handled yourself under maximum stress.  Considering the state you were in, I was amazed you carried on so valiantly.  You passed my test with flying colours.  The ladies in the front row at least were very appreciative!”
“An associate member?”
“Of the Committee.  I was very honoured to be invited.  And from the others’ point of view, they’re happy to have someone who organises events, and particularly stage performances.  It’s opened up a range of possibilities, and given me access to you and Billy.  We have plans for you two, but obviously tonight is not the time to discuss that.  Congratulations again, Simon.  I hope you make a smooth transition to St. Catherine’s, and I look forward to seeing you again very soon.”

[Simonssister]

Chapter XXXIX:  Geraldine’s Party (Part 1)

Saturday 3 September.  What a week!  And today I had to be up really early, because Geraldine’s party was virtually an all-day affair, and she wanted me there by eleven, which meant Sue wanted me at Holly End by nine to get ready.  When I arrived, she and Jane were waiting for me in Reception.
“Good morning, Simon!  How are you feeling?”
“Well, if not disgruntled, certainly not gruntled,” I replied, though this seemed to go over their heads.
“I see.  Well Jane has volunteered to be your ‘minder’ for the day.  You know her sister has a two-year-old, so she knows a little about babycare.” 
Jane bestowed a triumphant smirk on me.  “Yes, Simon.  We were just debating what we should call you today.  Sue favoured just “babykins”, but I thought “Baby Simone” preferable, so that no-one should forget who you really are.  But I guess Geraldine and her friends will decide.  All ready to change?”
“Or be changed!” laughed Sue, and they both collapsed in hysterics. 
I let them recover, then said, “So, are we going to do this, or what?”
“Ooh, your eager to get ready, aren’t you?” smiled Jane.
“I’m eager to get it over,” I replied.
“Come on then,” said Sue, “let’s do it.  It doesn’t really matter if you get there early.  All the more playtime for the girls, eh?”
I followed them into the changing room.  Sue instructed me to go into the cubicle and take off all my clothes.  Then she passed me the first item.  Yes, just as I’d feared.  An extra-large pull-up.  I’d made sure to go to the toilet at the last minute, and I’d eschewed fluids since last night, just in case.  Not that they’d prevent me using the toilet, but just to be on the safe side. With a sigh, I pulled it on, and emerged to their cries of delight.
“Oh, we should send you just like that,” grinned Sue.  “What more is needed?  The perfect babykins.  All pink and naked except for his nappy.  Put him face down on a fur rug and tickle him till he wets himself!”
“Sue, stop it.  That’s too much.  And, for the record, there’s not going to be any wetting today.  So give me the outfit and let me get dressed.”
“Ooh, grumpy, aren’t we?  Baby not had his proper sleepykins last night?  Was he too excited about the party, then?”
She could be nauseating when she wanted to be.

Eventually, when they’d both had their fill of ridiculing me, my little yellow two-piece was produced.   But first, the obligatory plastic pants.   Big translucent pink ones with elasticated waist and legs.  Sue held them open for me and I stepped into them.  She pulled them up, all the while looking me straight in the eyes, a quiet smile on her lips.  She made sure they fitted snugly, and the legs came over the pull-up. 
“They’re perfect,” said Jane.  It was really worth getting everything made for him.”
“Her, you mean.”
“Yeah, her.  She’s such a lucky baby.  Aren’t you, darling?”  She pinched my cheek familiarly.
The yellow shorts had also been made large enough to accommodate my pull-up, and the top fitted perfectly, allowing by bare tummy to peep out coquettishly.  The outfit was made of a thickish, stretchy material.  I was given little yellow socks to put on, and then out came my Peppa Pig boots, or “baby-bootees” as Sue called them, sustaining the irritating device of babifying everything to do with me.  Next she produced my “mitten-wittens”.  These were a bit of a surprise.  They looked perfectly normal, soft and, I assumed, floppy.  But when the girls slid them on, I realised they were reinforced inside with rigid paddles, so it was impossible to use my hands.  I was on the verge of objecting – not that it would have done any good – but Sue on one side and Jane on the other had already buckled up the little yellow wrist-straps and secured them with tiny padlocks.
“There.  They should keep you out of trouble,” said Jane.  “Babies are always playing with things they shouldn’t.”
“Yes, he’s always playing with something he shouldn’t!” interrupted Sue, and they fell about again.
“As I was saying,” continued Jane, still grinning, “my little Pippa is always getting up to mischief, but with these on there’s not much you can get your hands into.”
“This is it, then, is it?” I asked, wearily.
“Not quite,” said Sue.  We thought it would be a good idea to give you some reins, so you couldn’t run away.”
“Run away?  Like this?  Are you joking?”
“Well we asked Geraldine, and she said she definitely wanted reins.”
“You asked Geraldine?  Well what did you think she was going to say?  Of course she wanted reins.  She wants everything, that girl.”
“Now, now.  She loves you, Simon – sorry, Simone – and she’d hate anything to happen to you.  That was the reason.”
“Huh!”
The “reins” were produced.  Yellow leather to match my outfit.  First, there was a harness.   It jingled annoyingly, being decorated with little silver bells and D-rings.  It looked quite heavy-duty.  Jane and Sue started to strap it on.  It was a bit different from a normal baby-harness.  There was an upper strap, quite broad, which they fed under my arms and buckled at the back.  From the middle of this, two narrower straps were passed over my shoulders and also buckled at the back.  But there was also a second, lower, body strap, connected to the other by a rectangular leather plate at the front, on which was printed a picture of a doll.  This was buckled around my waist.  I was calculating the possibility of reaching back and somehow undoing the buckles with my stiff mittens, when Sue produced two short chains, which she used to clip my wrist cuffs to D-rings on the sides of the belt, greatly restricting the movement of my hands.
“Hey, Sue, you don’t have to do that!  I can’t use my hands anyway!”
“Maybe, Simon, but I’m not taking any chances.  I know your devious mind.”
“My devious mind?  Compared to you I’m a child!”
“Yes.  A baby in fact.  Oh, god, look at you!  Geraldine is going to be ecstatic!  I wish I could be there!”
“Don’t worry, miss, I’ll give you a full account!” chimed in Jane.  She picked up the reins themselves, which also had a buckle in the middle, and clipped them onto D-rings at each side of the upper strap.  She shook them playfully.  “Oh, it’s almost like when he was a pony!  Giddy-up, Simone!  Time to go to the party!”

In ten minutes I was in the back of Jane’s car, and we were heading to Trudy Westfeather’s house.  I was somewhat disconcerted to see next to be on the back seat a big padded yellow bag.
“What’s in this bag, Jane?” I asked, but all she would say was, “Just baby stuff.  You’ll see.”
When we arrived, I waited for Mrs Westfeather to open the front door, which was decorated with a bunch of yellow balloons, and then dashed in.  I didn’t want to be spotted by any nosey neighbours.  I needn’t have bothered as it turned out, since half the day was spent in the garden in full view of anyone who cared to look out of their back upstairs window. 
Geraldine came running out of the back room when she heard our arrival.  When she saw me she clapped her hands in delight.
“Simon!  You look perfect!  Did you like my choice of costume?”
“Yes, Geraldine, very much.  It was very clever of you to pick something so
interesting.”
She frowned.  “Why are your hands chained up?”
“Oh, we had to do that Geraldine.  Little Simone turned out to be quite a naughty baby, trying to take off her nice clothes and play with dangerous things.  We did it for her own safety.”
Geraldine took the hint.
“Naughty Simone!  I hope you’re not going to be a bad baby today.  It would be awful if my mummy had to spank you!”
“Oh, yes, Simone,” echoed Mrs Westfeather, satirically, “wouldn’t that be terrible – if I had to take down your pants and your nappy and give you spankies on your bare botty in front of all Geraldine’s friends!”
“Yes, come and meet some of my friends, Simone!  Three of my best friends are here already!”
She grabbed me by one leg of my little pants and led me into the room.  Three little girls were sitting at the table, writing out place cards and trying to blow up balloons.  They stared at me with astonishment.
“This is Baby Simone.  Baby Simone, say hello to my friends, Nancy, Tatiana and Bethany.”
“Hello,” I said, shortly.  I looked at the floor, suddenly overcome with embarrassment.
“Is that the boy
.” one of them began.
“Yes, Tatty, Simon was my pony at the gymkhana.  But today he’s Baby Simone.  Do you like his outfit?  I chose it myself.”
“Is she wearing a nappy, too?” asked another, in a tone of expectant curiosity.
“A pull-up, yes.  An extra large one.  He’s too big for ordinary nappies.”
“Can we see?”
“Of course.  Look, I’ll show you.”
I was still keeping my eyes on the ground.  I heard the chairs being pushed back, and a moment later the girls were around me.  Geraldine pulled up one leg of my pants to show them the pull-up.
“See?  Plastic pants as well, in case she wets herself.”
“Why are her hands chained up like that?”
“Sometimes babies are naughty, and pull things down, or get into some sort of mischief.  Sometimes they hurt themselves.  Of course, they don’t mean to.  So sometimes you have to do things like that.  Later on, we’ll can put him in the playpen so he can’t run around and bump into things.”
One of them was still interested in my pull-up. 
“Do you think she is going to wet herself?”
“I don’t know, Bethany.  She may do.  You can never tell with babies.”
“If she did, how would you know?”
“Well, her pull-up would be all heavy, and you could see the wee through her pants, and in any case these pull-ups turn blue when they’re wet so you know.”
“It’s not blue yet.  I’m going to check her very now and then, though,” said Bethany, officiously.
One of the others was examining my harness.  Jane passed her the reins.
“Here, Nancy, you can be in charge for a bit.”
“Thank you
.”
“Jane,” said Jane.
“Thank you, Jane.  Are you her mummy?”
She laughed.  “No, but I’m her babysitter for the day.  I have to look after her as though I am her mummy.”
“Walk, baby.”  I walked round the room as instructed.
“Ooh, I like this,” Nancy laughed, “look, I can make her stop, and if I pull on this rein, she turns the same way!”
“Just like a pony,” said Geraldine.
The third girl, Tatiana, suddenly blurted, “Can we take her out for a walk?  It would be such fun!”
“Can we, Jane,” asked Geraldine, excitedly.
“Well I hadn’t really thought of that.  I’m not sure.”
“If you’re going to take her out, best do it now, before the others arrive,” said Mrs Westfeather.  There’s a good hour before they’re due.”
I looked pleadingly at Jane.  She looked back triumphantly.  “Let’s go then, girls.  Take it in turns to hold the reins.”
“Yes!” they cried in chorus.
“Jane!”  I whispered, “you can’t do this!  People will see!”
“Exactly!” she said, with an evil smile.

[Simonssister]

Chapter XXXIX:  Geraldine’s Party (Part 2)

Five minutes later we were out on the street.  They put a little yellow cap on my head, but otherwise I was just as I had been indoors.  Nancy was first on the reins.  I walked ahead, the other three clustered around me, Geraldine holding my hand, rather awkwardly, as it was suspended from its chain and rather high up.  Jane brought up the rear.
“Let’s go to the park,” suggested Bethany.  “Simone can go on the baby swings.”
I kept my eyes on my little wellies, and allowed Geraldine to lead me.  I could see the feet on the people we encountered, how sometimes they stopped dead, or slowed and turned as we passed by.  I heard the remarks, too.  “Ooh, that’s a big baby!”  “I wouldn’t like to change his nappy!”  or more often stuff like, “Hey, Dave, (or Tracey, or Nikki, or whatever), get a load of this!”
It was actually a relief to get to the park, which, apart from the playground, was relatively quiet.  It was a nice park, bounded by lines of trees, with the playground in the far corner, adjacent to a little cafĂ© with seats outside.  As I was conducted over to the swings, and helped into one of those baby swings with a bar on the front, the other kids and their mothers stopped playing and simply stared.  I hoped desperately that there was no-one here I knew.  And at first it seemed as if I might get away with it.  We had been there no more than twenty minutes, when the girls got bored with pushing me, and wanted to go off and play on the logs.  Jane helped me out of my swing with some difficulty, and looked around for somewhere to stash me while she went and supervised the girls.  She had an idea.  She led me over to a tree, made me stand with my back to it, undid the buckle in the middle of the reins, and then buckled it up tight behind the tree.  Very effective.  I couldn’t move an inch.  I watched the girls playing, wondering how I had managed to get myself into such a predicament.  I looked about the park.  It was so quiet for a Saturday morning.  Just a few wanderers, and a couple of people at the cafĂ©.  They looked familiar.  Then my heart missed a beat.  It was Bella and Robin from year four!  Well, they’d be in year five now.  Two of the biggest gossips in the school!  I prayed they wouldn’t see me.  I kept my head well down, thinking illogically that if I couldn’t see them, maybe they wouldn’t see me.  No chance.  They were so naturally nosey, they took in everything that was going on around them.  I saw them looking at the kids in the playground, and then one of them pointed straight at me.  Down went my head again.  Please.  Please.  I prayed under my breath, not daring to look up.  But a minute later I saw two pairs of feet approaching.
“Hello.”
“Is that
.”
“Oh my god, Robin!  It’s is him!  I don’t believe it!”
“Hello, Simon,” smiled Robin, with obvious delight.  “Have you lost your mummy?”
“Just go away.”
“Ooh, you’re not very sociable today.  Are you with those kids in the playground?  What’s going on?  Please tell us.”
“He’s wearing a nappy, too, underneath.  I can tell!” gasped Bella.  “Look!”
She pulled up one leg of my shorts, and they both burst out laughing.
“Plastic pants!  Real plastic baby pants!  Oh, this is too good!”
“Just f*** off, you two!” I burst out, reddening.  I couldn’t help myself.
“Oh, dear.  What a bad-tempered little girl,” said Robin. “She’s probably tired.”
“I know.  Let’s cheer her up,” said Bella.  “I’ll tickle her tummy.  Could you video her, Rob?”
“My pleasure!”
She took out her phone and started filming.  Bella wriggled her fingers in my bare midriff until I was squirming and squealing and begging for mercy.  When they were quite satisfied with my performance, Bella relented.  She went over to her friend and they stood there playing it.  I could hear my own stupid sounds being played back to me.
“Please, girls, don’t show anyone,” I begged, suddenly contrite.
But at this juncture, Jane arrived.
“What are you doing to Baby Simone, you two?”  She looked quite severe.  “I hope you haven’t been upsetting her.”
“No,” replied Robin, rather nervously, “we were just trying to cheer her up.  She was in a very bad mood.”
“Really?  Did you video her?  Yes?  Let me see.”  She took Robin’s phone and watched the whole thing. 
“Hmm.  It’s lucky she didn’t wet herself.  Then I’d be the one who had to change her.  Is this how you normally treat baby girls?”
“N-no, I swear,” said Bella, “We were just having a bit of fun, you know.”  They both hung their heads.  Jane could be pretty scary when she wanted.
“So what are you planning to do with this video?”
“Er, nothing.  We were just about to delete it.”
“Delete it?  What a waste!  I thought you were going to say you were planning to upload it to Facebook.”
“No
”
“Why not?  It’s hilarious.”
“Jane!  No!”
“Really?  Can we?”
“Be my guest.”  She turned to me.  “Oh, Simon, I’m sorry, but this is simply too good to waste.”  She turned back.   â€œGo on, girls.  Do it now, before I change my mind.  I’ll be curious to see how many hits it gets.”
“Done!” cried Robin, exultantly.  “Thank you 
”
“Jane.”
“Thank you, Jane.  You’ve made our day.  Come on, Bella, let’s go and see Phillipa and the others.  Bye, Jane.  Bye, Simon!”
I groaned in despair.  This day was turning out to be worse than I could have imagined.

[Simonssister]

Chapter XXXIX:  Geraldine’s Party (part 3) 

We returned to the house without any further major incidents.  The other kids were arriving now.  Naturally my presence generated a lot of interest not only from the children but from their mothers.  Whilst rationally they knew I was a sixteen-year-old boy, my babyish appearance appealed straight to their maternal instincts.  They were petting me, talking to me in baby-talk, and generally treating me as a one-year-old girl.  It was a strange experience.  I didn’t quite know how to respond.  But then Jane took me aside.
“Now look Simon.  You’re supposed to be a little baby girl – or just a toddler at most.  You need to behave like one, understand?  Or it’ll be bare botty spankies, okay?  So learn to speak in baby language, and try to look constantly surprised.  And giggle if you don’t know what to say.  Got it?”
“Yes, Jane.”
“Good.  Now, baby want dwinkies?”
“Baby no dwinkies, tank oo.”
“But baby need dwinkies.  Janie get baby’s milkies.”
Mrs Westfeather warmed some milk in a pan, and filled a bottle.  Jane sat in an armchair and made me lie across her lap.  I was as big as her, but she didn’t complain.  Geraldine brought her the bottle, and she and her friends, at least the girls, gathered round with fascinated attention.  Jane pushed the rubber teat between my lips.  I drew the warm milk into my mouth.  I was intending to humour her for a short while, but I had no intention of drinking half the bottle.  I hadn’t raised the question of what was going to happen when I wanted to pee – whether or not I was going to be allowed to use the toilet – and I reckoned I could hold out all day if necessary, having been so careful over the last few hours.  But I was thirsty, so even then I drank more than I should have.  I stopped myself in time, however, and clamped my jaws shut.
“Come on baby, have some more.”
I shook my head determinedly.
Jane tried to force it into my mouth, but all she succeeded in doing was spraying my face with milk.
“Does Janie have to make you dwinky milkies?”
No reply.
“Geraldine, darling, could you bring me my bag, please?  Thank you, dear.  Trudy?  Could you help me?  What we discussed.”
Jane pushed me off her lap and stood up.  Trudy Westfeather was a substantial woman.  She put her arms around me from behind and locked her hands over my tummy.  Then she sat down.  I was quite helpless.  Jane rummaged in her bag, and pulled out something on a yellow strap.
“Sometimes we have to do this when baby won’t drink her milk,” she explained to the girls.  The next moment she had wrapped the strap around my head, buckling it tightly at the back, forcing a yellow rubber ball into my mouth.  Except it wasn’t a round ball, but oval, like a miniature rugby ball.  I could almost, but not quite, close my lips over it.  And if I bit down very hard I could compress it for a few seconds.  It wasn’t at all uncomfortable, but as a gag it was totally effective.  I glared at Jane indignantly, and all the kids burst out laughing.  I suppose I looked quite funny with anger in my eyes and a yellow gag in my mouth.  I couldn’t see what good it was going to do, anyway.  As far as I could see, it would effectively obviate any possibility of feeding. 
But, oh, how wrong I was.  Jane explained its function to the children.
“Now, children, this little device helps us feed naughty babies who wont drink their milk.  There’s a little hole in the front, here” – she pushed my lips apart to show it – and another in the other side.  Both holes are valves.  Does anyone know what a valve is?  No?  Well it’s a hole through which liquid can only go in one direction.  Both the holes are little valves, so milk can go in, but it can’t come out.  Let me show you.”
She resumed her seat, and I was once again placed across her lap.  I tried to twist my head sideways, but Trudy held it still while Jane pushed the teat into the ball, and pumped milk in.  Instinctively I tried to close my mouth, but when I bit down on the ball the milk simply squirted into my mouth!  As Jane filled the ball, the ball leaked into my mouth.  There was nothing I could do to stop it.  If I closed my jaws on the ball, it simply emptied faster.  Soon the bottle was empty.  Jane got up and pushed me back into the armchair.
“There!” said Jane, “See?  All gone.  That’s baby’s lunchtime feed.  Now I think your mum is preparing your lunchtime feeds, Geraldine!”
“Yippee!”  The kids gathered round the table as Trudy handed out plates full of party food.
“Take in into the garden, please, everyone.  It’s a lovely day.”
The garden was long, with big trees and bushes at the end.  They gathered in little groups on the lawn, for once in relative silence.
Jane squatted down next to me and said quietly, “You see, it’s no good trying to resist.  Sue has thought of everything.  You might as well go with the flow.”
I emitted an indignant grunt of protest. Geraldine was calling from outside.
“Simone!  Come out here with us!  Jane, could you bring her, please?”
“Coming, darling!”  And to me: “Sorry.  That’s staying in for the time being.  Come on, come outside and join the others.”
I sat by Geraldine during lunch, and spent the next hour or so running about playing tag or hide-and-seek.  Then at about three I saw Jane approaching with another bottle.  I was already needing the toilet, but the proximity of Trudy persuaded me there was no point in resistance.  This time I lay on the grass, my head on Jane’s lap, while Geraldine and her friends took it in turns to feed me.  The bottle was emptied again, but now more of the girls wanted a turn, so it was sent back to be refilled.  The kids were not always the most skilful mothers, so by the time that bottle was empty, half of it was soaked into my top.  I was bursting to go to the toilet. Then I had an idea.  I reckoned if I stretched the chain on one hand I could use the stiff paddle in my mitten to prise open my plastic pants and my pull-up.  It was worth a try, anyway.  I waited for the right moment and wandered casually towards the bushes.  Looking round, I saw no-one was watching, so I slipped into the undergrowth and started to put my plan into operation.  I had just managed to lift one leg of my plastic pants when I heard a voice behind me.
“Nice try, Simon.  You really never give up, do you?”
Jane had been watching me.  She didn’t miss much.  She conducted me out of the bushes, and soon I found myself securely strapped to one of the big trees, as I had been in the park.  To make absolutely sure, she shortened the chains, by the simple expedient of unclipping them at the wrist, feeding them through the wrist rings, and clipping the ends back onto the D-rings on my belt.
Then she called the children.
“Kids!  Come here, quickly!  I think baby is going to wet herself soon.  Come and watch!”
The whole lot of them came charging up the garden, whooping and screaming.  Then began the most embarrassing episode of my life.  I held out for no more than five minutes, before I inevitably was forced to give in.  The warm pee flooded my pull-up – too much for it to contain, because it also filled my plastic pants, and began to seep out of one leg.  Geraldine was delighted that baby had finally consented to do what babies were expected to do.
I don’t want to describe the remainder of that day.  Jane changed me on a big changing mat she had brought in the boot of her car.  Thank goodness I was allowed to remain face down for the whole process.  I was wiped, creamed and dusted till I smelt as sweet as a rose, and then dressed again so that I could resume the charade.  Everyone else was very happy with my performance.  I survived it by focussing on the consoling thought that in a couple of days, Billy and I would be off to St. Catherine’s.  It felt like at least the possibility of a new life.  And for five days of the week no-one would be able to touch us – would they.  Would they?