Clarissa's Visit: A Prequel

[sissyboy1212]

This was a prequel (in 3 parts) I had started writing to my previous story "Clarissa's Visit." It was based on a suggestion from Sissy Ballerina Boy. I took a little time today to finish it off. It takes place when our young hero was only 12 years old, and in which he meets a family friend for the first time as Clarissa. Hope you enjoy.

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PART 1

SIX YEARS EARLIER

   “Hold still, Clarissa! Be careful or you’ll stick yourself!” Mike’s mother chided him sternly. “Honestly we could already have been finished if you weren’t fidgeting so!” she added as she inserted another pin in the fabric around his waist.

   Mike Bradley was miserable as his mother called him that hated name again. The twelve-year old stood on a low stool wearing a beautiful lemon yellow party dress while his mother fitted it for some alterations. Summer sunshine streamed through the den’s big windows. Since he was eight, fittings like this had become a fixture in his life. Today, he was trying on the second of two new dresses his mother had picked up at a local thrift store. She was always looking for cute girls clothes that were a little big for him. She lovingly tailored them to fit perfectly while always leaving ample material to let them out as he grew up. Due to her avid sewing hobby, he could still wear many of Clarissa’s dresses and outfits from years ago. To his dismay, Clarissa’s wardrobe continued to expand steadily.

   “Let’s see,” Carol Bradley continued, “I can take in these side seams to taper it sweetly up top, and the skirt needs to be hemmed just above the knee to show off your pretty petticoat.” In short order, she had inserted a large number of pins so the dress fitted to her liking. She planned to fire up her sewing machine later. Mike could feel his dress getting noticeably snugger and more confining as she worked. “That leaves us plenty of fabric to easily let it out 3 or 4 sizes later as needed. You’ll get several years of wear out of this one I believe,” she said gaily. “There, Clarissa. I think that should do it. Come to the mirror and let’s have a look,” she instructed the befrocked boy.

   Mike stepped gingerly down from the stepstool and minced over to the large free-standing mirror his mother had placed in the den. From the neck up, he looked almost like a normal boy, albeit one with longer hair than most boys. Almost, of course, except for the yellow and white satin hairbow pinned sweetly in his hair. It made him feel so girlish. Even when he couldn’t see it, he could always feel its tugging to remind him it was there. His long, soft hair was the result of years of his mother’s scrupulous management of his hair appointments and styles even when he was not dressed as Clarissa. As a result, his unisex hairstyle was now longer than even many of the girls in his class.

As he looked at his reflection below the neck, things only got more girly. His lovely yellow frock was made entirely of lace in a sweet floral pattern. The summery dress was sleeveless with a ruffled neckline. It fitted closely around his narrow waist and was highlighted by a satiny yellow ribbon sash. The sash featured an adorable bow offset slightly to his left in front. The lace skirt fluttered out daintily, and the white tulle petticoat he wore underneath accentuated the fullness. Even his slightest movements made it rustle very girlishly.

   His mother also always insisted on the appropriate accessories so she could do the fittings correctly. As a result, in addition to his petticoat, Mike wore a lovely pair of white tights and shiny black patent Mary Janes to complete the look. Of course, his tights had several darling rows of ruffles which were thankfully hidden under the voluminous petticoat and lace skirt.

   “Well Clarissa, tell me what you think,” his mother asked. Grimacing slightly, he said, “I think it’s very pretty Mother, thank you.” It was the path of least resistance. He was learning that the more cooperative he was, the sooner ‘Clarissa’ would go away for a while.

   “I think you look delightful too, dear. How do you like the lace pattern of that dress?” she prodded.

   “Oh it’s very cute, Mother,” he continued reluctantly. “I love how delicate and airy it feels,” he added hoping that would be sufficient.

   His mother continued, “I need to draw the waist in a tad more for a more pronounced contrast with the fullness of the skirt. This dress is just made to show off that extra bounce, and it will flatter your petite silhouette nicely. I may add some elastic to keep it gathered properly. Please step back up on your stool, Clarissa,” she directed. Feeling very self-conscious, Mike meekly complied and once again stood perched on full display.

   As his mother began to readjust all her pins, the doorbell suddenly rang. Mike winced and his stomach fluttered as he desperately hoped no one would see him like this.

   “Oh dear, the time has gotten away from us,” his mother said. “That must be Mrs. Cranston. She’s dropping by for coffee.”

   Increasingly nervous, Mike asked timidly, “Uhh, Mother, may I go to my room while Mrs. Cranston is here?” He fervently hoped to avoid being seen in all his girlish glory.

   “Not now, Clarissa, I need to finish these last adjustments so your dress will be picture perfect,” she smiled at him as she easily brushed aside his feeble protest. “Now don’t you move a muscle while I get the door. I don’t want you getting jabbed with any of those pins,” she added sweetly.

   Mike stood motionless on the stool in his lemon yellow party dress while his mother answered the door. His cheeks warmed with humiliation, but he could only wait with apprehension. A minute later, his mother returned. She was not alone.

   “So nice to see you again Cynthia, I just have to finish up in here and then we’ll have our coffee,” his mother said.

   Horrified, Mike stood helplessly exposed on the stool as Mrs. Cynthia Cranston, his mother’s friend, entered the room. She couldn’t quite disguise the look of surprise on her face when she saw him.

   “Carol, is that Mike wearing a dress?” Mrs. Cranston asked hesitantly.

   Mike’s mother had already assessed that her friend Cynthia might be sympathetic to the situation, so she passed it off as normally as possible. “Well in a manner of speaking, yes,” she started cautiously. She continued, “But when Mike misbehaves, as he did yesterday, I’ve found that this is a very effective way to improve his attitude.” Then, she added after a moment, “so this is Clarissa.”

[sissyboy1212]

PART 2

   There was a long silence in the room as she let that sink in. Mike’s cheeks were on fire now, and he was beside himself. Thankfully, there were very few people who had seen him as Clarissa other than his mother. Most of the times when he had been taken out in public as Clarissa, they had been around strangers. As long as he acted like a little girl, that’s all most people saw. Even the times people had suspected he was a boy, they were people he didn’t know and was unlikely to see again. This was different. His secret shame was fully exposed to Mrs. Cranston now.

   After several agonizing seconds, Mike saw Mrs. Cranston seem to nod in agreement. “I must say it’s a bit uncommon these days,” she finally spoke, “but not at all unheard of.” Then she looked directly at Mike which only magnified his shame. He noticed the corners of her mouth twitch up slightly in the beginnings of a knowing smile. Then she spoke to him directly, “How nice to meet you… Clarissa! That’s an adorable dress, and your tights and shoes are simply precious. You’re a lovely little girl!”

   The humiliated boy looked from Mrs. Cranston to his mother. He was weak-kneed with embarrassment. His mother was mouthing something to him. Defeated, he turned back to Mrs. Cranston and said meekly, “Thank you Mrs. Cranston. I’m so glad you like my outfit.”

   His mother smiled and said, “Now where were we?” she asked rhetorically as she resumed pinning her petticoated son even more snugly in his new dress. “And please stop that squirming and stand up straight, Clarissa! Honestly, how many times do I have to tell you?” his mother chided.

Mrs. Cranston took a seat and watched this unexpected spectacle unfold before her. The whole notion seemed to fascinate her. As she watched the blushing and sissified boy get fitted in his lovely frock, her eyes twinkled with interest and her face finally broke into a broad smile.

   After what seemed an eternity, his mother was finally satisfied that the fit of his yellow lace dress was sufficiently girlish. Stepping back, she observed with satisfaction “I think that’s about right. She turned her head to Mrs. Cranston with a grin and asked “What do you think Cynthia?”

   “I think you look absolutely adorable Clarissa. Such a lovely girl,” Mrs. Cranston said sweetly but not unkindly. She seemed to be trying to deliver a genuine compliment.

   This reaction thrilled Mike’s mother, and she immediately responded, “Well that’s very nice of you to say. What do you say, Clarissa?” she prodded the furiously blushing boy.

   “Th-thank you very much Mrs. Cranston,” he replied meekly.

   After a moment, Mike’s mother instructed her charge, “Now let’s get you changed so I can make the alterations later this afternoon on your new dresses.” Mike thought that he’d get to at least leave the room to change, but his mother had him step off the stool and unzipped his lemon yellow dress right in the den in full view of Mrs. Cranston.

   Cynthia Cranston watched with fascination as he gracefully stepped out of the yellow party dress and almost unconsciously smoothed his petticoat. As his mother hung his dress on a velvet hangar, Cynthia was immediately appreciative of the effort and attention to detail his mother had put into his girlish outfit. With the dress off, she saw that he was wearing a stretchy white camisole tank top with a sweetly rounded neckline and darling spaghetti straps. Now she could also get a full look at his poofy white tulle petticoat hanging frothily over his ruffled white tights. He was still wearing those precious shiny black Mary Janes but otherwise he was a delicately girlish vision in white. She was amazed at how feminine his mannerisms appeared to be. Belatedly, she noticed for the first time that his nails were painted with a very subtle and pale pink nail polish.

   Freed of his fancy party dress, Mike intended to leave the room quickly. He might be dressed as a girl, but at least he could go change into something a little more casual. He abruptly stopped himself, however. He knew that he’d better ask permission.

   “Mother, may I go put on one of my casual outfits… maybe the denim skirt?” he asked hopefully. He couldn’t wear his jeans as Clarissa, but the denim skirt and maybe a girls tee shirt was as close as he was going to get.

   “Clarissa, why don’t you say goodbye properly to Mrs. Cranston before you leave us?” his mother said leadingly.

   Mike grimaced because he knew precisely what she meant by that, and he’d had plenty of practice. Daintily taking the edges of his billowy petticoat with his fingers, he crossed one foot behind the other and dipped into a perfect little curtsey for Mrs. Cranston. “It was so nice to see you again Mrs. Cranston,” he said as sweetly as he could muster.

   Just as his mother was going to acquiesce and let him go, Cynthia Cranston was struck by the fluidity of the sissified boy’s exquisitely feminine gesture. He was a vision of girlishness with those tights and darling shoes completing his look. She had a sudden thought. “That’s so lovely Clarissa, thank you! You’re very graceful. Your charming curtsey has given me an idea that just may interest you.” Then she posed a question, “Do you know what it is that I do?”

   Mike was chagrined. He had almost gotten away from this embarrassing encounter, but now it continued. Sensing something in Mrs. Cranston’s tone of voice he couldn’t quite put his finger on, Mike answered hesitantly, “I-I think you’re a teacher isn’t that right?”

   “Yes dear,” she replied warmly. “I teach arts and drama at a private school. In the summer I do a bit of dance and theater instruction with a drama camp to keep me occupied. I teach several styles of tap and dance… including ballet,” she explained deliberately.

   “Ballet?” Mike asked with a small gulp.

   “Oh yes, it’s probably my favorite… so graceful and classic. I was just thinking that in those lovely white tights, camisole and petticoat you look just like one of my little ballerinas in her tutu,” she continued. “And you have such a beautifully slender build. I must say it's a look that really suits you.”

   Mike couldn’t help but squirm now in discomfort and embarrassment. He did not want to be a ballerina or anything of the sort. Yet Mrs. Cranston was talking to him as if he wanted to be Clarissa. Taken aback, Mike was increasingly alarmed at where this was headed.

[sissyboy1212]

PART 3

   Mike felt as if his black Mary Janes were glued to the floor while Mrs. Cranston continued, “Have you ever thought about taking ballet lessons? I suspect you’d be a natural,” she finished expectantly.

   “Uhhh… no Ma’am,” he stammered, “I don’t… I don’t know… I don’t think… I…” His voice trailed off. He had no idea how to respond.

   When he paused awkwardly, Mrs. Cranston spoke again. “Clarissa, would you indulge me for a moment? I’d just like to see something.” Now it was his mother’s turn to watch with interest. She was positively thrilled at this turn of events.

   Mike barely croaked out a weak “Okay” before Mrs. Cranston was speaking again. And this time she had the unmistakable tone of a teacher talking to a student.

   “We’re going to do first position my dear,” she continued with authority. As he stood in his ruffled tights, petticoat and camisole tee she had him point his feet outward 180 degrees away from each other with his heels barely touching. “Toes and knees pointed out in a line my dear, and keep your little derriere centered over your hips. Chest and chin up.” She pushed his chin up slightly with practiced ease, and then she adjusted the discomfited boy’s stance into a proper ballet position. “Now arms rounded in a big graceful oval in front of your body,” she said as she adjusted his arms methodically. “Keep your elbows rounded… fingers pointed… shoulders back a smidge… focus on your balance.”

   Mike felt so awkward and exposed as he tried to follow her directions. He couldn’t help but think that his friends from school were probably enjoying their summer break playing ball or swimming at the park. He on the other hand, was doing just about the most sissy thing he could imagine.

   “Don’t forget to breathe Clarissa. Chin up, and look in the mirror,” Mrs. Cranston interrupted his thoughts. He realized that she had him standing directly in front of the large mirror. “First position,” she announced triumphantly. “That’s a nearly perfect first position, my dear,” she said approvingly.

   As Mike studied his reflection, he realized how girlish he was really becoming. He was dressed in what amounted to a makeshift girls ballet outfit doing a ballet pose in his den. Even after four years of having Clarissa in his life, he was still somewhat shocked at how feminine he appeared standing this way.

   “Oh that’s so lovely, Clarissa,” his mother exclaimed. “So delicate and graceful!”

   Again, the sissified boy could think of nothing else to say except “thank you Mother.”

   Mrs. Cranston spoke again. “As it happens, I’m doing a small private two-week class for beginners starting on Monday. I’d be happy to have you in the class if you’re interested dear. There’s one other boy, Tommy, who is very gender creative so effectively it will look like an all-girl class. I think Tommy would appreciate having a kindred spirit like Clarissa in the class with him. He’s so excited but still a little bashful. I also have three other girls signed up. A pair of twins, that’s Molly and Mary, and little Elizabeth who attends my school. What do you think, my dear?” 

   Before he could speak, his mother piped up, “Don’t you think that’s a wonderful idea, Clarissa? It will get you some exercise and I’m sure it will be a splendid learning opportunity!”

   “I’ll be happy to discount the rate for you Carol. I really want another student in the class to round it out, and since it’s last minute I’m not going to get anyone else signing up before it starts on Monday,” she offered to Mike’s mother.

   Feeling trapped, Mike knew there was only one right answer. “Ye- Yes of course,” he said reluctantly in a very small voice. “I can’t wait,” he added although without much enthusiasm. He had learned that the more compliant and cooperative he was when Clarissa visited, the sooner he could be done with her. But now he worried about what was in store. Ballet lessons? As Clarissa? His stomach did a flip.

   “Then it's decided!" Mrs. Cranston said happily. "Wonderful Clarissa! I can’t wait to have you in the class,” she added. She was positively beaming. “I actually have some of the supplies for the class in the car, so if you’ll hold just a moment I can leave you some things to get you ready for Monday.”

   Mrs. Cranston popped out the door and returned in almost no time carrying a large duffel bag and a shoe box. Unzipping the bag, she said “Let’s see now, three sets of girls leotards and tights… black, white and pink. A youth dancer’s belt. And of course here are your ballet slippers. What shoe size is she, Carol? I guessed a Junior girls seven?”

   “A Junior girls seven should be fine, Cynthia,” his mother said immediately. Mike winced at hearing his girls shoe size announced out loud.

   “You’re in luck, Clarissa, I always stock up on extra dance supplies before teaching a private class,” she said excitedly. Mike blushed furiously as she handed him his new leotards still in their packages and his very own pair of ballet slippers complete with dainty ribbon ties. “Oh and Carol, I almost forgot, Clarissa will need her hair pulled up in a dance bun for class.”

   Aghast at what awaited him, Mike just stood there helplessly in his tights and petticoat holding all his new ballet supplies. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Cranston,” he finally said awkwardly.

   “I’m so excited about my darling new ballerina,” his mother gushed, “I can’t wait to see her dance!”

   “We’ll pick out tutus next week at the studio. The girls always enjoy doing that together,” Mrs. Cranston concluded. “And we do a small little recital for the parents at the end.   We’re going to have a marvelous time together.”

   “Let’s have our coffee now, Cynthia,” his mother said cheerfully. “I can’t thank you enough for this lovely opportunity. Turning to her befrocked child, she instructed, “Clarissa, you can go put your pretty things away now and change if you like.”

   His mother and Mrs. Cranston walked toward the kitchen for their coffee, and Mike felt a sense of impending doom. The petticoated boy’s lip quivered as he slowly took his things to his room. With every step, he was conscious of the swish-swish of his petticoat rustling around him. Dejectedly, he realized Clarissa was going to dominate his entire summer. “I’m Clarissa,” he said softly to himself, “and I’m going to take ballet lessons.”

THE END

[babycakes]

Brilliant!  Perfect balance of detail and flow.  Clarissa is now a  "must read".

[Sissy Ballerina Boy]

Thank you, thank you and thank you. My birthday is tomorrow and I feel like this was a person early birthday present wrapped in a big pink bow. Hope to see more of this story in the future. My story will see Johnny in ballet class soon enough.

[sissyboy1212]

Thank you babycakes and Sissy Ballerina Boy for your sweet comments.  And a happy sweet sissy birthday to you SBB :)  Hope you have a nice day with lots of pink ribbons and gooey cake! 

Glad you enjoyed the story.

[Shortyshorts]

Very nice set up the original story, filling in some nice detail as to how Clarissa came to be.
Thanks so much for this.