Got the measure of him

[krystalasbaby2017]

Mum, Aunt & sister having fun with the continued embarrassment of the new sissy. Love it.

[Andlat]

I doubt Frank sees it this way, but a girls school uniform isn't as bad as the frilly dresses he's worn thus far. Excited to see how his time in dresses and such is extended! Even though his sister was the mastermind behind the original dress, it's fun to see the other members of his family take the reins in the escalating situation.

[DaraJaney]

The next morning Frank was pushed out the door in his navy gymslip, tan tights and high-heeled t-bar shoes.  Angela accompanied him to the bus stop in her grey school shirt and trousers and trainers.  She had to slow up regularly as he couldn’t keep up in his heels.  “Stop tugging at the hem of your gymslip all the time”, she warned him.  “You’re only drawing attention to yourself.  You are going to be a big hit with the boys on the bus though”, she sniggered.

Frank cringed as they turned the corner and saw six boys waiting at the stop.  He desperately wanted to keep holding his short pleated gymslip down as much as possible but had to admit it would look odd.  The boys stopped their chatter as they approached.  Their eyes wandered up and down Frank’s long tan legs, made seem even longer by his high-heeled shoes.

Frank looked desperately down the road willing the bus to come, conscious of the looks he must be getting behind.  Angela just smiled as she kept looking from his short gymslip to the staring boys.  She put her hands in the pockets of her trousers pointedly.

Eventually the bus came.  Frank was anxious to get on as quickly as possible but as he was first to board he realized what might happen as he went up the three steps.  He held the back of his pleated gymslip in hoping not to reveal anything, although it was just a pair of navy school knickers – almost a relief after days in frilly panties.  Looking down the aisle he saw lots of boys’ eyes on his legs.  He sat in the first vacant seat he saw.

The convent stop was first so he had to stand up, carefully smoothing his pleats down at the back and totter his way down the aisle to the door.

The bus pulled away and he saw Angela smiling and waving out the window.  It generated a gust that had Frank desperately trying to keep his gymslip down.  When he looked around he saw several convent girls in gymslips that came to their knees, all looking at his short outfit and raising eyebrows.

At the school gate a nun asked him “Are you Frances?”  He was about to ask how she knew but just squirmed in his short gymslip.  He nodded.  “Join the third line over there.”  He scampered over.

A stern Mother Superior strode in front of the lines of girls – and Frank.  “You, girl!” she pointed at him.  He cringed.  “Come here.”  The last thing he needed was attention being drawn to him but he had no choice but to go to the front.

She produced a measuring tape from somewhere in her deep pockets.  Frank stood mortified as she measured the distance from his knee to the hem of his gymslip.  She was tutting.  The girls were trying to suppress giggles.

Frank desperately hoped he would be sent home for an inappropriate skirt length.  The nun who met him at the gate stepped forwards.  “She’s only temporary.  It’s a borrowed uniform.”  Mother Superior looked disappointed.  “Very well then.  Get back in line.”

Frank winced.  He not only had to attend the school in the gymslip, he knew he had by far the shortest skirt in the school.  Girls made faces at him as they passed.  He was sure he heard “slut!”

He spent most of the day trying to get through it without flashing his knickers.  Carefully holding his pleated skirt every time he sat and stood.  At breaks he tried to avoid the windier parts of the school grounds.  He was relieved to get back on the bus at the end, even if it was full of leering boys, and sit in beside Angela.

At home, he pleaded with his aunt.  Surely he had taken enough punishment now.  “I don’t really have to spend the week at the convent do I?”  “No”, she responded.  His heart leaped.  “The minimum fee they would accept was one full term.”  His heart stopped.  “You’ll be a convent girl until Christmas.”  Frank’s jaw dropped.  “No!”  “It’s all paid and unrefundable.”  His aunt left the room.

His mother arrived a little later.  “So we need to decide which sport you are going to do and which dance class.”  Frank sat disconsolately on his bed, his knees pressed demurely together.

“The choice of sports is hockey, netball or tennis.”  Frank recalled lingering around sports grounds and sports halls hoping for flashes of girls’ knickers in their short sports skirts.  Netball was best because they often jumped towards the hoop, giving a nice display as they descended.  He had seen old photos of tennis players wearing frilly knickers and was disappointed that fashion had died.

“You’ve played tennis”, his mother reminded him.  He nodded.  It was probably better than having to play in a team of girls.  “Laura did tennis too”, his aunt recalled and found a box on the top shelf of the wardrobe.  She put it on the bed and opened the cover.  There was a white tennis dress white pink trim inside.  She held it up.  The skirt was pleated in eight places with pink inside the pleats.

Frank looked at it with resignation.  Then his aunt took out the matching knickers with pink lace all around.  Frank sighed.  Obviously Laura had been around for the end of that fashion.  A few minutes later, Frank was trying the tennis outfit for size.  Like the gymslip it was very short on him but just about covered the frilly knickers.  “Perfect!” his mother concluded.

 â€œYou haven’t done any dance classes before have you?” his mother confirmed.  Frank shook his head.  He’d often thought he’d like to try tap dancing though.  “The choice is ballroom, tap or ballet.”  “Well what did Laura do?” his mother asked.  “If you still have her outfit, then he’ll do that dance class.”

His aunt went to the end of the wardrobe.  She took out a hanger with a black protective cover of it.  She pulled off the cover to reveal a pink ballet dress with stiff pink tutu.  Frank felt sick.  “Lovely!” the women laughed.

His mother unzipped his tennis dress.  He suddenly wanted to keep it on.  His aunt found pink tights and ballet shoes in the side pockets of the cover. 

They pulled the tights on him and then made him step into the ballet outfit.  The spandex material was really stretched tight around his groin and bottom.  He stood in front of the mirror and nervously flipped up the tutu at the front.  The imprint of his boy parts could be seen.  There was no way they could make him wear this.  “Look mum!” he protested.

The women looked under his tutu and saw the problem.  “If we sew really thick fluffy lace on the panty part that will hide that”, his mother assured him.  “Don’t worry.”  Frank sighed heavily and pushed his pink tutu down at the front, trying to maintain some dignity.  Looking in the mirror in his pink tutu and tights, he realized that ship had sailed.

“Mum can I please do tap?” he begged.  She looked at him, trying not to laugh too much.  “And spend a fortune on tap shoes when you have a perfectly good tutu?” she reasoned.  “No.  Remember it’s only for four months.”  Frank cringed.  Only four months in gymslips, frilly tennis knickers and his pink tutu!

[Andlat]

Four months and they won't even get him some longer gymslips? I can't imagine this will end well for poor Frank/Frances

[DaraJaney]

Now that it was known that he was going to be attending the convent, Frank hoped that Mother Superior would insist on a gymslip of an appropriate length.  But either she didn’t know or she had lost interest but Frank had to continue wearing the shortest gymslip in the school.

This attracted a lot of extra attention from boys especially at the bus stop and on the bus.  His high-heeled t-bar shoes made his legs look even longer in his tan tights.  Occasionally there would be extra sniggering from the boys at the bus stop following a gust of wind or from the boys on the bus if Frank had to reach up to hold the bar when the bus lurched and he would know he’d given them a flash of his panties.

The girls were no kinder to him.  They smirked and muttered ‘tart’ and could be heard suggesting that his short gymslip was deliberately to attract boys and give them easy access.  The thought horrified Frank.

At his first ballet class he stood in the line of girls, still keeping the front of his tutu pushed down a little, unconvinced that the thick pink frills that now adorned his nether regions would be enough to conceal.  This meant that the back of his tutu tipped up and revealed the lines of pink frills on his bottom but he had his back to the wall and it wasn’t as risky anyway.

“Girls as you can see, you don’t all have to match each other’s outfits.  In ballet we are happy to see individualism.  See here Harriet has lovely embroidery on the front of her outfit.  And Frances …” she beckoned him to the front.

Frank cringed but had no choice but to shuffle his way over to her in his ballet shoes, still awkwardly holding the front of his tutu down.  He stood beside her and faced the line-up.  “Frances here has lovely frills under her tutu.”  She went to flip his tutu up at the front but Frank turned quickly so she ended up flipping it up at the back.

He felt her fingers running through his thick pink frills.  “My goodness.  Double stitching!  They won’t come off easily.”  Frank cringed.  “Now there are many different things you can do.”  She continued to babble on about options while still absent-mindedly holding the back of Frank’s tutu up to the class and prolonging his exposure.

There were one or two other beginners but none had as many problems achieving the right shapes as Frank had.  Madame Bouquet kept tapping at his pink legs with her stick to get them in the right place.  The girls giggled at his feeble efforts.

The clock seemed to have stopped, he checked so often, desperately wishing the hour to be up.  When the bell finally rang Madame Bouquet said “Frances, you stay here.  You need a bit more practice.”  Frank wanted to cry.

The girls gathered their things and left.  Frank was now under the personal and constant supervision of Madame Bouquet.  “Higher”, she tapped his arms and pink legs again and again.  Unfortunately she had him touching his toes with his back to the door as the girls giggled past having changed for home.

At ten to five, Frank had to interject.  “Please Madame Bouquet.  I have to get the five o’clock bus or I’ll have to walk home.”  “That’s no problem”, she assured him.  “The stop is only three minutes away.”  Frank desperately wanted to explain that he needed time to change but she was already barking commands and tapping at his pink legs with her stick.

At three minutes to the hour she finally dismissed him.  He had barely time to replace his ballet slippers and put on his high-heeled shoes.  They didn’t help him run for the bus as he tottered along in hurried little steps, his tutu catching the wind, not helping aerodynamically.

He just about made it.  He went up the steps on the bus and looked along the aisle.  The only empty seats he could see were at the back which was dominated by the toughest boys.  He decided to stand and try to ignore all the amused looks at his pink tutu and tights.

Three more children came before the bus pulled away.  “Move down the aisle!” the driver ordered.  Frank had no choice but to push along but his tutu was wider than the aisle.  “Hey!”  “Watch it!” the occupants of the aisle seats complained as the underwired netting scratched them.

Frank had to turn sideways and push his tutu down at the front, thereby giving everyone in the left-hand seats full view of his pink frilly bottom.  He felt slaps and pinches as he pushed along.  He decided he couldn’t stand in the aisle leaving someone with a face-full of pink frills, it was better to sit.

He was terrified of the tough boy’s faces as they watched with incredulity as the ‘girl’ in the pink ballet tutu, pink tights and high-heeled shoes sank into a seat.  Of course his tutu was too wide for the seat and was held aloft by the arm rests.  There was nothing he could do except sit there and hope not too many frills were showing – for all the difference it made at this stage.

When it came to his stop he had to repeat the procedure of walking sideways with his tutu flipped up.  He wondered should he expose his bottom on the other side this time or to the same people.  These were the kind of choices he was reduced to now.

[Andlat]

Forced to run and take the bus in a tutu! If that's the worst thing that happens to Frank, he'll still not soon forget this term as a girl!

[DaraJaney]

When it came to the day he was to play tennis for the first time, Frank was hoping to sneak a pair of plain sports knickers into his kit bag but his aunt packed his bag for him.  “Isn’t it lucky we had a tennis dress for you?” she commented.  “Yes aunt”, he replied meekly.  She didn’t let it out of her sight until she saw him off at the door in his gymslip.

As Frank walked out on court, tugging the hem of his pleated tennis dress, he noticed with a sigh a row of ten boys on the benches outside the fence.  The tennis coach set him up in a mixed doubles.  He noticed with a sigh of resignation that the real girls were all wearing shorts.  “That’s a pretty dress”, the coach commented, seeing the flashes of pink inside the pleats.  “Thank you” Frank tried to smile politely but was more concerned with trying to keep his dress down.

Frank didn’t run around too much and certainly didn’t bend down to play a shot, lest he show off his pink frills.  His partner grew increasingly frustrated.  “Come on!  I thought you played tennis before.”

It came to Frank’s turn to serve.  As luck would have it, he had his back to the boys on the benches.  He knew that if he threw the ball up for a proper serve his dress would ride up and his frilly knickers would be exposed.  He hit an underarm serve.  The coach blew the whistle.  “Hey!  I thought you knew how to play tennis.  Serve properly!”

Frank sighed.  He walked back to the service line, eyeing the boys nervously.  The coach’s whistle and shout had drawn their attention.  Frank leaned forward to bounce the ball.  He could hear tittering behind.  He threw the ball up and gave a proper overarm serve.  His pleated skirt flew up and all of the pink frills on his knickers were exposed to a big cheer from behind.  His opponent failed to return the excellent serve.

His partner had been in front of him for the serve and wondered what all the laughter was about amongst the boys.  Frank served again and there were wolf whistles this time as the boys were ready to react.  This time the serve was returned and a rally commenced.  Frank had to bend low at the net to scoop a short ball back and win the point.  As he walked back he saw his partner smirk as she looked towards the bottom of his dress.  She could see now what all the laughter was about.

The secret was out now and there was no point in Frank trying to conceal his frilly knickers anymore.  When his partner next served at that end he moved forwards and bent low so as not to interfere with the serve and swayed from side to side to be ready to pounce.  There were wolf whistles again from behind.  He could hear her bounce the ball a few times but then nothing.

He wished she would hurry up as he knew his frilly knickers must be on show.  Eventually he looked over his shoulder and saw that she couldn’t serve as she was laughing.  He sighed and straightened up, glaring at her.  Eventually she composed herself and served.

The coach walked around to where the boys were sitting.  “Have you nothing better to do?”  “Absolutely not”, one of them replied.  “It a really frilling game!” one of them joked and they all laughed.  “Just because she likes to dress pretty!” the coach complained.  Frank was even more mortified at her intervention.  There was nothing she could do and the boys were joined now by more friends as word was clearly spreading.

Frank and his partner won the game.  The boys reacted with a disappointed collective “aw!” now the show was over.  Frank had to walk right by them to the dressing rooms – his cheeks as pink as his frilly knickers.

The following week Angela’s football team was playing the convent team in the County Cup.  Frank was standing in the corridor outside the dance room in his tutu, pink tights and ballet shoes when the teams emerged from the dressing rooms in their football shorts and boots.  As he cringed and tried to push his tutu down, he wondered why he hadn’t been told about the convent football team.  He would have much rather played football and been able to wear shorts.  Before he could think about that too much the door to the dance room opened and he flounced in with the line of girls for his ballet class.

Angela’s team won the early rounds of the competition as did the school’s boys’ team.  They had qualified for the quarter-finals – further than any team from that town had gone before.  Frank was sitting in class in his gymslip when Mother Superior came into the room.  His hair had grown long enough now to be tied up in two pink ribbons to match his cravat.

“As you know the public school’s boys and girls football teams have qualified for the quarter-finals.  The two matches will be played on a double bill and the whole town will turn out for them. We’ve been asked to provide a cheerleading squad.  Frances, your sister is on the team, isn’t she?  And you’re doing dance so you’ll want to be in the cheerleaders.”  Frank could see that it wasn’t framed as a question.  He slumped in his seat.