Mitch

[Sandra B]

163.
Simon and Oscar were told to make their reappearance in Yulya’s afternoon class.  The boys cheered as they walked through the door – while the objects of their applause, Yulya noticed with a wry smile, looked distinctly nervous.
“Guys!” shouted James.  “Welcome back!  Where you bin?”
“Er…”  Oscar struggled to remember the name they had agreed on.
“Oh, up norf,” explained Simon… “er, the Amanda…er… somfing school…”
But it didn’t matter.  No-one was really interested.  All they wanted to do was relate their own story.
“You ain’t got no idea what you missed, you jerks.  We ‘ad two lovely girls ‘ere…”
“Two real little c-um sluts!  Wait till you hear what we were doin’ while you were up there in prison or whatever…”
“They was there every day, mouths open, waitin’ for us…”
“All trussed up an’ gaggin’ for it!”
And so on.  Simon and Oscar looked at each other miserably.  They didn’t want to hear any more.
“Yeah, okay, anyway, we’re back, so…”
“Wait a mo – you ain’t heard anyfing yet…”
“Yeah, like on the first day, we like couldn’t believe what we were seein’, see?  An’ then…”
“Just shut up, the lot of yer.  Miss?  Can we get on wiv the lesson, please?”
“Yes, Simon.  That good idea.  Quiet boys, please.  Boast to Simon and Oscar after class, yes?  Right.  Before begin, Miss Shirley say to tell you, this week you may have two new teacher.   Miss Mitchell teach you English – and maybe another lady science.  Both from St. Mary School.”
“Haha.  We’ll soon deal with them…” came a voice from the back.
“Really, Ryan?” returned Yulya with a knowing smile.  “Perhaps you wait till you meet them before you say such thing.”

By this time, Luke and Max were already installed in their respective classes, Luke in 10B and Max in 10C.  Luke had been the first to arrive.  Georgia had driven him to make sure he wasn’t late on his first day.  She had walked him into the playground twenty minutes before the start of lessons, kissed him on the cheek like a fond mother, and abandoned him. 

Vague rumours had been going round since the end of the previous week that as an experiment boys were going to be allowed in school.  Most of the girls were disgusted, some curious, but all were annoyed with the head for withholding any sort of explanation.  Now at last they saw what sort of boy was involved.  The initial reaction was shock.  The gasps of surprise spread like a gust of wind through the playground at his first appearance.
“What the…?”
“It’s a boy dressed as a baby!”
“Look!  He’s even…suc-king a dummy!”
As indeed, in his terror, Luke was.  Suc-king a dummy, holding his boater in one hand and gripping the crotch of his pants tightly in the other, cheeks scarlet, ringlets trembling.
The shock quickly gave may to a sort of delighted fascination.  In a moment he found himself surrounded by a circle of girls, chattering, giggling and squealing, more pressing in from the back as the whole playground converged on the new pupil.  He was thankful Georgia had decided to put him in a pull-up, as he fought off the urge to empty his bladder in sheer fright.  In another few seconds the circle had collapsed, and he found himself being explored by inquisitive hands, his pants tugged at, his thighs pinched and squeezed, his ears pulled.  Excited faces pressed close to his, forcing him to shut his eyes.  He whimpered, but whichever way he turned there was no escape.  Just when he thought he was going to faint, or wet himself, an icy voice cut through the hubbub.
“Girls!  Stand back, please!  Let him breathe!”
Miss Trevelyan had arrived on the scene.  The crowd opened up like the Red Sea, leaving a wide passage for the head, flanked by two very supercilious-looking prefects.
“Ah.  Good morning…Luke, isn’t it?  Yes, of course.  Welcome to St. Mary’s, Luke.  I hope you’re going to enjoy your stay.”  She smiled maternally.  “Do you like your uniform?  I’m impressed.  Miss Dearman certainly has a felicitous eye.  I can’t imagine a more suitable outfit for a new boy.  Smart but…er, modest.”  She turned and addressed her flock.  “Girls.  Luke will be joining us for the foreseeable future, with his best friend Max.  I want you all to treat them with respect, and help them to settle in.”
Whispers of “another one?”  “Max?  Where?”  “What fun!”
“Ah, Luke, I see you even have a school boater.  Why don’t you put it on, and then Felicity and Phillipa here will show you the ropes.”  She turned to the two prefects, each of them a good few inches taller than Luke himself.  “Girls?  Would you stay with Luke until lunchtime, please?  Make sure he understands the rules, and show him all the facilities.” 
“Yes, Miss Trevelyan,” the two replied simultaneously, each with an almost imperceptible sneer.
“And Luke, I’m sure you’ll soon make friends.  And I’ve asked your teacher to introduce you to your class immediately after registration.  Now…where’s that Max?”

[Sandra B]

164.
Max, Amora and Elsa were still on the bus. Maybe it was because there was a light drizzle, but the traffic was heavy that morning, and the bus was crowded.
“I hope we’re not late,” said Elsa.  “I hate being late.  Having to go to that bitch’s office and register…”
“That bitch” was the school secretary, Miss Blackshear.  The word was that she was related to royalty on her mother’s side.  She certainly behaved like it, and it was impossible to get the better of her caustic sarcasm.
“Ah, Miss Robertson,” she’d said the last time Amora was late.  “How nice of you to grace us with your presence.  Let me see…ah, yes.  The third time this month you’ve been late.  What’s that you say?  Couldn’t find your homework?  You mean you actually did some?  Well, I’m sure we’re all thankful for that.  At least you remembered your head, even if you didn’t manage to comb your hair…”  And so on.
“I don’t care.  fuc-k her,” rejoined Amora.  Anyway, it’s been worth it, eh?”

Indeed it had.  When they caught the bus at the stop just down the road from the house, they found there was only one double seat unoccupied.  Most of the other seats were crammed with St. Mary’s students of all ages, who were now staring at Max open-mouthed.  The girls bundled in, ignoring him.
“You’ll have to stand,” said Amora.  “Hold on tight.  The roads round here can be a bit bumpy.”
So poor Max was forced to stand in the gangway, holding onto a high rail. 
“Couldn’t have planned it better if we’d tried,” smirked Elsa.  “Now everyone on the bus can get a good eyeful.” 
Amora was waving to all her schoolfriends.
“Hi Jane.  Hi Nicola…Rachael…  Meet Max.  I told you we were hosting a boy-baby for a week, didn’t I?  Here he is.  He’ll be at St. Mary’s from now on.  I know you’ll all look after him…”
“What’s he wearing…?” screamed Nicola.
“These?” asked Amora, reaching up and giving the scarlet frills of Max’s pants a playful tug.  “These are official rubber St. Mary’s bloomers, for big baby boys.  Do you like them?  In fact, this is the complete St. Mary’s boys’ uniform, which any boy that comes to our school is going to have to wear in the future, by order of Miss Trevelyan herself!”
They all gaped.  “I have to have a feel,” murmured Rachael, getting out of her seat and making her way forward to where max was standing, in the middle of the bus.  “Oh my god, you’re so cute, Max.  I just want to feel….”  She gasped.  “The rubber’s so soft!  And his little jacket, and his socks, and…everything!  It’s just too darling!”
The bus was stuck in a traffic queue now, and the rest of the girls took the opportunity to approach and explore their new schoolmate.
“What’s this here?” cried one, pointing at the little protuberance pressing against the front of his pants.  (Amora had decided against a pull-up, feeling that she would like Max to appear au naturel.)
“That…ah, that’s his little…er, container…  To keep him out of mischief, if you know what I mean.  Touch it.  You can’t do any harm.  It’s quite hard…the device, I mean.”
The girl flicked it a couple of times, and giggled hysterically.  She turned to her friend.
“Hey, Celia, come and have a feel of this.  “What’s it made of, Am?”
“Oh, plastic covered steel I think.  Yeah – his thing’s not going anywhere in that, so you don’t have to worry.  You’re all safe.”
“We are, but he isn’t!” someone from behind them, with a spiteful laugh.

The aforementioned Celia was now making a more careful examination of the device.
“It’s curled over…his willy can’t straighten up at all…there’s a little compartment for his balls, too.  What a clever thing!”
“They have locks so the guy can’t remove it,” said Elsa, knowledgeably.  “Though this one is permanent – isn’t it, Maxie?” she added, with a smirk. 
“fuc-k.  I wish I could get my boyfriend into one of these.  I could make him do anything...  For one thing, he’d have to use his mouth a bit more often…”
“Celia, shush!  Really.  Not in front of the children, please…”
“Oops, sorry.  But look at his little jacket, and he’s got the school tie and everything!”  She stroked Max’s cheek.  “And you’re really cute, Maxie.  Which class are you in?”
Max's cheeks were burning now, and his lip was quivering like a baby about to cry.
“He’s in 10C with us,” said Elsa.  “Never mind, though.  The other one’s in your class.”
“The other one?”
“Luke.  He’s just as cute.  You’ll see him soon enough…”

The bus was making slow progress.  It was quite hot inside, and the scent of warm latex filled the air.  Despite his weak efforts to ward them off, a couple of the older girls also helped themselves to a feel of Max’s erection control device, and everyone agreed it was an excellent idea for over-sexed adolescent boys.  The conversation was punctuated by the continual clicking of shutters and Max’s bus-ride was recorded for posterity – and for friends and family. 
“We are gonna be late,” said Elsa.
“Good,” returned Amora.  “I want to see Miss Blackshear’s face when we take Max into her office.  I reckon she’ll be totally outraged, if Miss Trevelyan hasn’t told her yet.”
“I do hope so,” said Elsa.  “I think the reason she’s always so bitter is cos really she’d like to cane us, but she isn't allowed.”
“Oh, do you think so?  That may be right.  I bet she would…”

The bus arrived at last, and they filed off.  The playground was almost empty.  Because they had missed the bell, everyone on the bus had to report to the school office.  Amora patted Max’s bottom.
“Come on Maxie.  You’re going to meet our favourite lady, Miss Blackshear.   We’ll have to queue up at the side of her desk while she marks us in.  Make sure you stand as close to her as you can, won’t you?  And push your pelvis forward, so your pants get nice and taut over your little willy, and she can smell the hot rubber.  Get it?  I want to see her reaction.  My phone’s on silent, and I’m going to try to get a snap.”
“Go, Am,” laughed Elsa.  “I wanna see that!”

[Sandra B]

165.
They were near the back of the queue.  The first girl to arrive at Miss Blackshear’s desk had already tried the “I’m sorry, miss – the bus was held up” excuse, and been quickly rebuffed.
“Well, you know the roads are busy these days.  You should have taken that into account and caught an earlier bus.”  She glared through her black-rimmed spectacles.  “Please don’t offer such pathetic excuses.  One black mark against your name.”
“See?” hissed Elsa.  “See what she’s like?”  She pushed Max behind her.  “Stay hidden till the last moment.  Am?  Got your phone ready?”
“Ready.  Video mode.”

The queue moved quickly.  Miss Blackshear was no longer looking up at the malefactors.  Instead, as each one was marked in and dismissed, she would simply stay focussed on the register and snap at the next.
“Name?  Form?  Reason for lateness?  Dismiss.”
Soon it was Elsa’s turn.
“Elsa Davies, miss, 10C.  Bus, miss.”
“Next!”  Miss Blackshear was getting irritable now.  “Next!”
Elsa stepped aside.  Max, looking nervous, was hanging back, so she put a hand in the small of his back, and thrust him forward – a little too firmly, however.  He stumbled forward, put one hand onto the desk to prevent himself falling, sweeping the register and all Miss Blackshear’s papers onto the floor, and the other on the back of her chair, nearly pushing it over.  He hung there for a second, trying to regain his balance, his legs pressed against her thigh, his abdomen thrust into her face!  Her glasses had been knocked off into her lap.

There were gasps, but everyone seemed paralysed.  No-one came to their aid.  Amora was too busy with her phone, anyway.  Miss Blackshear emitted a scream of horror, and in an attempt to evade the thick, pungent latex pressing against her face, turned her head sideways.  Her chair was on castors, so in pushing against it in his struggle to get upright, Max felt it slowly slipping further away, tipping him even further forward and grinding his abdomen against Miss Blackshear’s cheek.  With an effort, he managed to arrest the movement, which threatened to precipitate both of them onto the floor, and clung on manfully.
“Help!  Someone help me, please!”
“Get him off me!”
Miss Blackshear, nostrils assaulted by the scent of hot rubber, unable to free herself or even move for fear of ending up on the floor with Max on top of her, had quickly been apprised of the her assailant’s gender by the small, hard bulge in his pants which was now digging into her cheek.
“Get him off!!”

Amora was mentally hugging herself with delight.  Things could not have developed any better than this!  And there they were, still pressed together like a couple of sardines.  She zoomed in on Miss Blackshear’s furious face.
The little tableau was finally brought to an end by Miss Trevelyan, who at that moment appeared from her office, which was next to the Secretary’s.
“Goodness!  Miss Blackshear!  Whatever…?”
“He assaulted me!” came her muffled voice.  “Get him off!”
“Oh.  I see!” 
It is possible there was the slightest hint of a smile on Miss Trevelyan’s face, though Elsa couldn’t be sure.
“Girls…  Help him off, please.  Carefully…  Or they’ll both be on the floor.”
Three girls helped Max to stand up.  Miss Blackshear struggled into an upright position.
“Thank you, girls.  Now then, Max, I think you owe Miss Blackshear an apology…”
“M-miss…  I’m so s-sorry…  I must have slipped, and…”
“Oh.  So you are Max, are you?  Yes, the head mentioned her plan to import…” - she paused, as if even the sound of the word offended her – “boys into the school.  I hope this is not an indication of how you propose to continue…”
“I-I’m sorry…it was an accident…”
It was clear Miss Blackshear had not been fully on board with the head’s plan.  Miss Trevelyan issued a mild reproach.
“Come now, Miss Blackshear.  It must have been a shock, but I’m sure Max meant no harm.  He’s probably a little nervous on his first day.”
“Well, yes, of course, Miss Trevelyan.”  She gave a slight shudder, adjusted her blouse, and fiddled with her bouffant.  “I’ll mark him in…”

The day had started well, Amora thought, as she and Elsa led Max and a couple of their friends from the bus to the classroom.  A great video, for sharing with her inner circle only. 
Through the glass panels in the door she could see the rest of the class were already seated, and their class teacher, Miss Clarkson, was walking back and forth in front of the blackboard.  She guessed from the excitement and amusement on the faces of her schoolmates that she was preparing them for Max’s arrival.  As they entered, a ripple of chattering broke out.
“Quiet please, girls.  Your four, take your seats please.  Max, I’m Miss Clarkson.  Welcome to 10C.  Come over here if you would.”
She guided him to the front of her desk, facing the class.  She could feel him trembling slightly, and his ears were red with self-consciousness.  Good.  Miss Clarkson was also not wholly in agreement with the head’s decision to host these two boys.  However, she was gratified to see him dressed in such a humiliating version of the school uniform.  Maybe Miss Trevelyan wasn’t as misguided as she had thought.  So despite her initial reservations, she allowed herself a quiet smile.  All right, he hadn’t had any choice in the matter.  But she didn’t much like boys, and she determined at that moment that she would teach him a lesson.  Who could say…  It might even be rather fun…

“Girls, allow me to introduce Max Dinsford.  In recent months Max has been attending P and S, just along the road.  Some of you may remember him and his friend Luke paying us a brief visit.  But now Max and Luke have been enrolled as students of St. Mary’s, at least for the foreseeable future.  We hope they settle in quickly, and have an enjoyable and profitable stay.”  She smiled, and continued.  “You will see that Max has his very own St. Mary’s uniform.  Here, Max, stand up here so everyone can get a good view.”
She produced a little wooden stool from behind her desk, and placed it in front of the class.  Max looked at it nervously.
“Go on.  Jump up.”
He climbed onto the stool, lowered his head, and held his straw boater in front of him.
“Don’t be shy, Max.  Come on, put on your boater and raise your head.  Show the girls how smart you are!” 
Reluctantly, he complied, cheeks burning now as well as ears.
“That’s it.  Hands by your side, please.  Now…”
She picked up her pointer.  A hush fell over the class, broken only by the occasional stifled giggle.  All eyes were focussed on Max.
“I’ll just run through his uniform, and then I’ll ask for your views.  I know you’re all quite fashion savvy.  Let’s start at the top.  Boater.  You all have one.  They are worn on special occasions.  Max is wearing his because this is his first week – his special occasion.  Tie.  The standard school tie in school colours.  Blouse.  The boys have special blouses made of spandex, except the collar and cuffs, so they fit nice and close and won’t get torn.”
“Why do they have to be spandex, miss?”
“Ah.  Well, boys can play rather roughly, and I don’t think a loose blouse in lightweight cotton would be ideal…  But also, they tuck nicely into the next item of his uniform, his bloomers” – here she tapped his hip with her pointer – “without spoiling the lines.”
“Why is he wearing, like, baby pants, miss?” asked a girl at the back, with a giggle.
“Well, first of all – and I’m not sure whether you know this - because both boys are fitted with special devices to calm their natural boyish unruly tendencies.”  She tapped Max’s device sharply with her pointer.  It made a satisfying clicking noise.  “It’s a curved metal tube, which keeps his little pen-is under control, and his mind on his work.  So loose puffy baby-style pants are much more fitting.  Second, because he and Luke are being trained as babies.  When they grow up the hope is they may want to stay babies.” 
Gasps.  Cry of “what, for ever, miss?”
“Maybe…”
Max had had enough.  “No!  Don’t wanna be a baby forever!  Don’t wanna wear baby pants any more!  Luke can if he wants.  He likes being a baby.  I don’t!”
“Max!  That’s quite enough, thank you!  How dare you shout in my class.  You’ll wear what your guardians tell you, and no arguments!”
“But, miss…”
“Quiet!  Goodness me, what a way to start your education at St. Mary’s.  Another word out of you and I’ll have to send you to the head!”  And she gave him a smart little crack on the bottom with her pointer to drive the message home.
Max looked downcast.
“Understood?”
He looked at her resentfully, but eventually…  “Yes, miss…”
“Right.  Then I’ll continue.  So, those pretty latex pants in the school colours with nice frills at the legs, then white socks and standard school shoes.  I think it’s a lovely outfit.  Girls?  Any comments?”
“I like it, miss!  He looks so cute.  I think he should stay a baby forever!”
“Scarlett?” 
“I don’t think it’s fair, miss.  If he doesn’t want to be a baby, he shouldn’t have to be.”
“I agree with Scarlett, miss.  And if he didn’t have to wear that…thing…he wouldn’t have to wear baby pants…”
“What would be wear instead, then, Jacqueline?”
“How about shorts, miss?  They’d look just as nice…”
“Yes, please, miss,” wailed Max.  I’m in big school after all.  I shouldn’t still be a baby.  And wearing this device thing is making me feel ill.  I get so frustrated I’ll never be able to focus on my work…”
“Poor Max,” cried someone else.  “See?  It’s making him ill.  Miss, you should send him to the nurse…”
“Yes, miss,” came a chorus of voices, “let him go and see Nadine…”

[Sandra B]

166.
Further down the corridor, in 10B, Luke was undergoing a similar introduction at the hands of Mrs Melchitt.  She, however, was a much more kind-hearted and motherly woman, who had three children now grown up, and for who the pretty, curly-haired Luke brought back nostalgic memories of her own babies.  She sat him on her knee in front of the class, stroked and kissed his cheeks, and spoke to him softly in the third person.
“Is baby Luke liking his first day at his new school?”
Luke had that very morning decided resistance was futile, and that the best thing would be, for the time being at least, to be seen to embrace babyhood wholeheartedly.  He had been encouraged by the reception he had had from the other pupils; he had been cuddled and kissed and fawned upon by girls of all ages, and he was a boy vulnerable to excessive shows of attention and affection.  Moreover he liked the way everyone eulogised about his outfit, and he had started to enjoy the feeling of the ringlets tickling his ears, the comfort of the thick pull-up, and the reassuring grip of the leg bands of his pants.  Yes, he thought, there were lots of advantages to being treated like a baby.  So for the time being I might as well go with it, and keep everyone happy.
“Yeth, thank you, mith.  Baby Luke like Thaint Mary’s very much.”
“Oh. You’re such a good boy, Luke!  Now girls, I want you to look after Luke very nicely.  Who would like to be his chaperones for this week?”  Eager hands shot up.  “Hilary…yes, and…let me see…Lavinia.  He will be your responsibility, and next week we’ll have two other girls.”

It has been said that it is more difficult to change an individual’s natural inclinations by argument or coercion than to pass a Boy Scout through the hole in his own woggle.  And indeed this was the case with Luke and Max, the first instinctively drawn to regression, the latter constantly fighting against it and made miserable by the struggle.  And being surrounded by girls of his own age had compounded his misery and frustration to the extent that, as the week went on, he started throwing tantrums in class.  Even Miss Clarkson was forced to confess that the situation was not sustainable, and after the intervention of Violet Canter he did indeed visit Nadine on two occasions.  Nadine was gentle and sympathetic – as well as young and pretty.
“So, Max, why don’t you tell me exactly how you feel?  I hear things haven’t been going very well in class.”
“No…  I’m really sorry…  I can’t explain why, really…”
“Do you not like being at St. Mary’s?  I fully understand if an all-girls private school is not your bag…”
“No.  No, not at all,” he responded, hastily.  “I love the school.  The girls are so…” – he was about to say “cute” – “the girls are so friendly…”
“So what’s the problem, darling?”
He sighed.  “You know about my…  You know I have to wear…”
“Rubber pants?”
“No.  Not that.  The other thing.”
“Ah.  Your device.  Yes.  I read your notes.”
“Well…  I just can’t live with it.  And the thought that it’s permanent…  It’s too much…”
His eyes filled with tears.  Nadine took his hands.  “Oh, you poor thing…”  She gave him a cuddle.  She had silky hair and rather firm breasts.
“Oh, no…  please don’t…”  He pulled away.
“Oh.  Yes.  I see the problem now.  That’s…awful.”
“Yes, it is.  I’m uncomfortable all day long.  I can’t even do anything about it after I get home.”
“Does Amora help at all?”
Max turned bright red.  “Y-yes.  She and Elsa are very…er, thoughtful…”
“Okay Max.  Look, don’t worry.  I’m going to talk to Miss Trevelyan, and we’ll see what we can do.”

The upshot was that two days later Max spent the morning at P & S, and was visited by  female engineer from the company that produced the ERDs.  Within five minutes the bolts had been drilled out, and he was free.
“There.  Does that feel better?”
“It feels great!  At last!”
“I’m not surprised.  This ERD is a size smaller than you should have been wearing!”
“Really?”
“Yes.  Perhaps your friend is smaller than you, and they gave you both the same size…”
“That’s it!  I bet!”
“Anyway, you’re free now.”
Shirley knocked and peeped round the door.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes, madam.  All done.”
“Max.  Does that feel better?”
“It feels…amazing!”
“So what do you want to do for the rest of the…”
“I want to go back to St. Mary’s, miss.”
“We were thinking…as you’re not going to be a baby any more…maybe some different pants?”
“Whatever.  But these are fine for now.  I must get back and tell Elsa.”
“Elsa?”
“Amora’s best friend.  We share a desk in 10C.”
“Oh.  I see…  But Max?”
“Yes, miss?”
“Best behaviour, you understand?  You’re on probation now.  Miss Trevelyan won’t tolerate any hanky-panky.”
“Hanky-panky, miss?”
“You know what I mean…”
“Yes, miss.  Don’t worry, miss.”

Max quite happily set off by himself.  Shirley returned to her office, where Mandy was waiting.
“Well?”
“All done.  He’s happy now.  Gone scurrying back to his girls.”
“Did you do the right thing, I wonder?”
“Well, there really wasn’t any choice, if we didn’t want to upset the relationship with St. Mary’s.  Though what he might get up to now, heaven knows.  You know Miss Trevelyan only sanctioned the arrangement in the first place because they were both under firm control?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“So I offered to withdraw him.  But now she’s met him I think she’s taken a fancy to him.  So he’s on probation.  Miss Clarkson, his form teacher, is going to keep an eye on him.”
“Fingers crossed, then.”
“Yes.  If he gets himself sent back here he’s going to end up as a permanent party toy for anyone who wants to hire him.”
“Ooh, Shirley, you wouldn’t…”
“I would.  Which reminds me, this party that Teddy’s arranged.  We need to finalise arrangements for the boys.”
“And the equipment.  One cage, and we need to go round and do the wall fittings.  I’ll get Yulya and Anna on it.”

[Sandra B]

167.
Miss Trevelyan understood very well the need to maintain a strictly austere, even daunting, persona in front of the school.  In private she was rather more laid back.  As a young teacher she had had a very well-developed sense of mischief, and was known for her ambiguous comments and even the occasional practical joke.  But when she was appointed head of St. Mary’s, all that had to be concealed in the interest of maintaining discipline.  It was true that, when confronted with serious misbehaviour, she occasionally found the need to resort to a little razor-edged sarcasm – but it was no longer delivered with a wry smile, as in the past, but quite deadpan, so that the girl on the receiving end had no intimation it was intended to do anything but wound.

She had become so used to dealing with young females, she understood their strategies and motivations so well, that she had been taken aback by the relative naĂŻvety of the new male students.  She had never taught or supervised boys, and at first sight it seemed as if they were a different species of being, without deviousness but with a charming gaucheness.  The unfortunate encounter between Max and Miss Blackshear had made her want to laugh out loud.  She had known the school secretary for years, and she was certain that within that severe exterior was an equally severe spirit.  It had been  good to see her so suddenly and comprehensively humiliated.  In fact, she had noted Amora surreptitiously filming the episode, and at break she approached Miss Clarkson and asked that she find an excuse to confiscate her phone for the day, and convey it to her for examination - by which subterfuge she intended to obtain a copy of the video for her own private amusement.

So her apparent tolerance in allowing Max to stay at St. Mary’s unfettered, as it were, was in fact that old sense of mischief bubbling to the surface.
“I really don’t know what might ensue,” she had said to herself, “but I think I’m tired of the endless status quo.  It really can’t do any harm, can it?  And I can return him any time I want.”  She sat in her office musing, a twinkle in her eye.  “It’s not that I’m putting the cat amongst the pigeons…no.  On the contrary, I think it’s more like putting the pigeon amongst the cats…”

The pigeon in question had resumed his seat next to Elsa.
“Is it…off?”
“It’s off!”
“Great!  We can have some real fun tonight.”  (By “we”, she meant herself and Amora.)
“Shh…miss is watching us…”
“I don’t care.”
She put her hand on his thigh.  “Soon be home time,” she whispered, keeping her eyes attentively fixed on Miss Clarkson.  Nevertheless the eagle-eyed teacher was alert to the slightest move, and she could see the girls at the neighbouring desks looking across and smirking.
“Elsa!  No talking!  You’re distracting the class.”
“Yes, miss.  Sorry, miss.”
“Any more nonsense and I’ll send the pair of you to the head.”
Elsa lowered her eyes in silent compliance.  But behind the back of the girl in front she was playing with her felt-tip pen, her slim manicured fingers caressing the end suggestively.  As Max watched, heart beating faster, she wrapped her hand around the shaft, and scratched at the cap with one sharp fingernail.
He took a deep breath.  Involuntarily, his newly-freed member was swelling and stiffening.  In less than a minute it was fully erect, his pants stretched taut over the head.  Elsa stifled a giggle.  This guy was so easy!  She could even get him aroused by telepathy!  Max’s cheeks had turned bright red.  Miss Clarkson was still looking at them suspiciously.  The girl just across the aisle to Mitch’s left was staring open-mouthed.
“What is going on with you two?  Right.  Out here, now.  At once!”
Elsa got to her feet and made her way to the front.  Max remained where he was, desperately trying to will his unruly boyhood into submission.  But it had a mind of its own, and obstinately refused to lie down.
“Max Dinsford!  Did you hear what I said?  Max!”
With a snort of anger, Miss Clarkson marched down the aisle and took Max by the ear.  It was only then that she caught sight of the cause of his reluctance.  She stared at it for a moment, speechless, between disgust and amazement.
“Well, really…” was all she could think of to say.  She pulled herself together.
“Angelica…go and fetch one of the prefects from upstairs.  You can tell the teacher it’s urgent.  Dayita?  Go to the office and borrow a school cardigan – a large one.  Quickly, please.”
The girls hurried away on their errands.  Angelica returned first, with a tall, serious young woman wearing black tights under her school skirt in tow.
“Ah – Wendy.  I want you to take two pupils to the head.  No, wait a minute.  Leave them with Miss Blackshear, and I’ll write a note for you to give to Miss Trevelyan.”  She paused, and shook her head in disbelief.
“Dayita – did you…?  Ah, good.  Give it to me.”
She pulled Max into a standing position and prepared to tie the arms of the cardigan around his waist.  For a brief moment the offending bulge was visible to the whole class, eliciting a collective gasp, followed by a buzz of conversation punctuated by hysterical giggles.
“Quiet, girls!  This is not a laughing matter, as Mr Dinsford is about to discover.  Please go and stand by Wendy, while I write a note.”
Two minutes later Wendy was leading Max and Elsa to the school office. 
“That’s what happens when you introduce boys into the school,” she said, as if to herself.
“Yeah.  Great, isn’t it,” responded Elsa, with a cheeky grin, which Wendy replied to with a supercilious sneer.

Miss Blackshear’s face as Max entered her office was a picture.
“What’s he doing here again?”
“Sorry miss.  I have no idea,” said Wendy, in a bored tone.  “Miss Clarkson asked me to give this to the head.”  She handed over the note.  Miss Blackshear reached out to take it, but stopped in mid-movement.  Elsa had whipped off the cardigan, and all at once the reason for his reappearance had become startlingly clear.
“This is why, miss,” said Elsa, as matter-of-factly as she was able.  “He got his device taken off, see?”
Miss Blackshear was almost choking with revulsion.  She turned puce, her mouth fell open and her eyes bulged.
“W-what…  H-how…  Why, you disgusting, horrid boy!” she screamed.  “Such a…thing?  In St Mary’s…?”
Max stood there, frightened, not knowing what to do.  His erection was pointing directly at the school secretary, and quivering slightly under the taut latex.  It was at that moment that Miss Trevelyan emerged from her office.
“What’s going on?  Miss Blackshear, what is the matter?  What’s….  Goodness me!” 
She had caught sight of the object of Miss Blackshear’s reproach.
Wendy turned to her.  “Miss Trevelyan.  Miss Clarkson asked me to give you this.”
She handed over the note, and while the head was distracted reading it and Miss Blackshear was still fixated on Max’s distended pants, took the opportunity to grab a quick snap.
“May I go now, miss?”
“Er, yes, of course, Wendy.”
And off she went to share the evidence with her friends in the prefects’ room.

Miss Trevelyan quickly took charge of the situation.  She drew in a deep breath.
“Right.  Max.  You’d better come into my office.  We can’t have you standing here like that.  If any of the younger girls were to see you they’d be traumatized.  Elsa, you too.  Miss Blackshear – you can close your mouth now.  Probably best not to stare at it too long…”
“Miss Trevelyan…  I mean…  I wasn’t…”
“And could you send Nadine to me?  As soon as possible, please.”
She ushered the two into her office and closed the door.
“Have a seat.  Dear, dear, Max, whatever are we going to do with you?”
“Are you going to expel me, miss?”
“I’m not giving up on you yet.  The school needs a bit of a shake-up.  However, there are limits.”
“There was a knock at the door.
“Come in…  Ah, Nadine.  Max here has a problem…as you can see.  He needs cooling off.  Can you help him?  I know this is not in your usual line, but you always seem to find some suitable treatment whatever the problem…”
Nadine was looking especially smart.  A crisp grey nurse’s outfit, a short apron, shiny stockings, and scarlet lip-gloss.  She glanced at Max, quite unfazed.
“I think I may be able to help.  Would you like to come with me to the infirmary, young man?”
Max rose.  Nadine took him by the hand and led him out, checking first that the coast was clear.
“Nadine will come up with something, I’m sure,” said Miss Trevelyan.  Now, Elsa.  From what Miss Clarkson say here” – she held up the note – “she suspects you may have had something to do with Max’s – ah – state.”
“Me, miss?” said Elsa innocently.
“Well, whatever.  I won’t recriminate.  I must speak to Miss Dearman and see if she can suggest a solution.”
She picked up the phone and went to the window.  She lowered her voice.  Elsa couldn’t hear much of what was said, but at the end of the conversation she heard a mention of what sounded like “control pants”.
“So, when could we expect…?  Today?  Oh, thank you.  I was afraid we might have to keep him out of lessons.  Are they effective?  I see…yes.  All right.  I look forward to seeing Anna shortly, then.  No, no problem.  I really would hate to lose him.  Yes.  A breath of fresh air…”

[Sandra B]

168.
“Let’s have a coffee while we’re waiting, shall we Elsa?”
Miss Trevelyan opened the door and called to Miss Blackshear.
“Doris?  Could we have two white coffees please.  Oh, and some biscuits, if you wouldn’t mind.  Thank you so much.”
The coffee and biscuits arrived after a few minutes, delivered by a rather sniffy Miss Blackshear, who placed the tray on the head’s desk and left, pointedly ignoring Elsa.
“Oh, dear,” said Miss Trevelyan.  “I hope Max didn’t upset her too much.  I’ll have a chat with her later.  But Elsa, how are you?  How’s things in 10C?”
They chatted for a while about the school, about graffiti in the toilets, about arrangements for Christmas.  They were just finishing their coffee when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
It was Max, followed by Nadine.
“Max!  There you are.  Oh, you look much better.  Did Nadine find something to help?”
Max looked slightly dazed, and his ears and neck were inflamed.  His erection had quite subsided, however.  He looked at her as if he didn’t quite understand the question.  Nadine smiled.  She was wearing surgical gloves.  She dabbed at her shiny lips with a rather sticky-looking tissue.
“Yes, Miss Trevelyan,” she said sweetly.  He’s all better now, aren’t you darling?”  She patted his cheek.  A couple of drops of something milky glistened in her hair…

Elsa returned to class, leaving Max in the head’s office.  Anna arrived shortly after, and handed Miss Trevelyan a package.  She opened it, and held up a little pair of heavyweight latex shorts with frilled legs.
“Miss Dearman say, sorry we only have plain blue at present.  She order blue and red today.  To make up, she stick little red heart on leg, here.”
“Oh, how sweet of her!  Now, let me see…  Can you show me how this works?”
“Yes, I show.  Inside three loops welded to front seam.  Bottom one go around base of shaft, behind balls.  Middle one around middle of shaft, top one below head.  Bottom loop keep pen-is erect - must be erect for control to work, but latex thick so keep it nice and flat against tummy.” 
“Clever!  Let’s get them on him, shall we, Max?”
“What?”  Max backed away.  This didn’t sound cool at all.
“Come on, don’t be shy.  Anna will help you.”
Ignoring his weak remonstrances, they undid his belt, stripped off his baby pants, and made him step into the shorts.  Anna pulled them up – not without a struggle, because although liberally powdered, they were tight and strong.  While Miss Trevelyan held open the waistband, Anna reached down and pulled his private parts through the bottom loop.  As soon as it was allowed to tighten behind his balls his pen-is began to swell. 
“Good.  It working.”
She fed it through the middle loop, and when it had attained full tumescence, she snapped the top loop over the end and worked it down till it tightened just behind the glans.
“There.  Done.”
“Gosh,” said Miss Trevelyan, “what a clever idea.  There’s no way it can slip out of those bands, is there?”
She let go of the waistband and rethreaded his belt, buckling it tightly.  “Now let’s have a look at you.  Here, face the window.”  She stood back.  “What a difference!  It’s just as stiff as before, but now it’s all neatly strapped up it can’t offend anyone, can it Anna?”
“No.  I think it look very smart.  And will stay nice and straight to attention all day.”
“Hmm…  He’s quite a big boy, isn’t he?”  She grinned.  “Better keep your belt tightly buckled, Max, or you’ll be bursting out of the waistband!”
She opened the door of a small wardrobe in one corner.  “Take a look at yourself in the mirror.  This is the way to go.   Don’t you agree?”
Max stared at himself.  It was nice to be out of those baby pants, it was true.  He had never wanted to be made into a baby in the first place, and then to be sent to a girls’ school as one was intolerable.  If Luke wanted to acquiesce, that was his business.  He wanted to be at St. Mary’s, but he wanted to be there as a boy, a year ten boy mixing with girls of his own age.  But no year ten boy would be seen dead dressed like this!  Apart from the rest of the juvenile uniform, these shorts were almost as short as his baby pants.  They were frilled at the legs.  His prick was proudly displayed for all to see – all right, so it was compressed against his tummy, flattened by the thick, taut latex, trussed up tight – but it would be permanently erect, standing straight up like a fat little sausage, with his little balls splayed out symmetrically at the bottom of the shaft!  How was he supposed to chat up a girl like that?  She’d be continually checking it out, wondering whether she dare ask him if she could measure it, giggling about it with her friends!  How could he impress any of them with his cool and his sharp wit, or his good looks, with that thing permanently straining at his shorts, demanding attention?  And what about lunchtime, and break?  Then it would be not only his own year, but the whole school!  Imagine how humiliating that would be!  No.  There was no way he was going to accept this.

“I’m sorry, Miss Trevelyan.  I’m sure you mean well, but I’m not wearing these.”
“I beg your pardon, Max?”
“I’m not wearing them.”
“I see.  Just one moment.”
She picked up the phone and dialled a number.
“Shirley.  Hi.  It’s Heather Trevelyan again.  Your student seems not to be grateful at all.  He says he’s not wearing them…  Can you believe it?   I know.  You have?”  She turned to Max.  “She’s already ordered two more pairs, in the school colours.  Here, she wants to have a word with you.”
She handed him the phone.
“Max?  So you’re refusing to wear them?”
“Miss, I-I…you see, it’s just that…”
“Yes?”
“It’s not that I’m ungrateful…”
“You wanted your ECD taken off.  I got it taken off.  You’ve been complaining about being dressed as a baby, so you decided to make an exhibition of yourself and nearly got yourself expelled.  Then Miss Trevelyan generously said you could stay, and I provided you with special shorts than would enable you to regain your status as a boy.  And after all that, you think you can rebel?”
“No…  I…”
“Well, you can’t.  I have full control over your therapy.  I can do anything I like.  I can have your device reinstated – and this time it will be permanent.  I can dress you as a tiny toddler, with masses of satin and lace.  I can fit you with permanent locked sissifier, through which you will be fed and watered.  I can advertise you for hire for hen parties, and leave your treatment to the partygoers.  I can turn you into a piggy or a cow and show you all over the county.  Or I can simply release all the material I already have on you, and make you famous.”
“Miss!  No!  Please…”
“Or you can do as you’re told, wear what you’re told, and get a good education.  Well?  What is it to be?”
“I’ll…do as I’m told, miss….”
“You had better.  But to remind you of your disobedience, I will have one pair of your new school shorts fitted with a butt-plug, to help keep you nice and hard…”

[Sandra B]

169.
Luke had had a miserable lunchtime.  There was no sign of Max, no moral support, and so far he hadn’t made any friends – a lot of acquaintances, eager to get a close-up look at him, but no friends.  Everywhere he went all he heard were squeals, gasps, and giggles – and lots of excited chatter.  He had contrived to stay in his classroom at break, but at lunchtime he had to go to the canteen by himself, and stand in the queue.  Apart from the fact he was being stared at by the whole room, the girls immediately ahead of him were in fits, whispering and laughing, suddenly swinging round and pretending to be surprised, while those behind him kept up a constant chatter, whispering about “what sweet little rubber pants” he had, speculating “whether he needs changing” or if he “wants his dummy”.  In fact his dummy was pinned to his jacket on a length of ribbon, and once or twice he felt so distressed he almost yielded to the urge to pop it in his mouth.
At lunch he found an empty table, but was quickly joined by three year eight girls, whose sole purpose it seemed was to torture him.
“Ella?  What’s that smell?”
“Dunno.  You mean that sort of rubbery smell?”
“Yeah.  Can you smell it, Greta?”
“Yes.  Smells like a baby’s rubber pants.  If it’s a baby, he’ll probably wet himself anytime, and then we’ll be able to smell wee, too.”
“Oh, no.  I hope we don’t have to change him!”
“It’s easy.  Wipe him off, and put lots of cream on his botty and winkie.  They like that, you know!”

He finished his lunch as quickly as he could, made his way into the playground, and headed for the hockey pitch, where there were fewer people.  Even so, he had to run the gauntlet of shouts and whistles before he attained the relative peace of the grassed area.  He sat on the ground to be as inconspicuous as possible, and started to eat a chocolate bar he had bought in the canteen.  But he was not to be allowed much respite.  His phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi…  Luke?”
“Yeah…”
“It’s Helen.  Remember me?  In the park?  Where are you?”
Luke sighed.  Not now, please.  “Er…you know…at school…”
“You’re not at our school.  Which school?”
“Er…”
“Which school?”
He braced himself.  “St. Mary’s…”
There was a moment’s silence.
“St. Mary’s?  Not that posh girls’ school, though?”
“Yes.  That posh girls’ school - as you call it.”
“You’re joking.”
“Unfortunately not.”
“But…how…?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We wanna hear it!  Don’t we, Sandy?”
“We do!” came Sandy’s voice from the background.
There was a short pause.
“But…what are you wearing, then?  They have strict uniform rules…”
“Oh, it’s….you know…”
“No, I don’t.  Send us a selfie.  Full-length.”
“I-I can’t…  I’m, er, busy…”
“You’d better do it…or else.”
He knew what “else” was.  He was about to set up his phone on timer, when he saw two girls standing watching him with serious fascination.  Probably year seven.
“Hi, guys.  Do me a favour.  Take a picture.”
He ended the call, handed one of them his phone, and stood back, trying not to look self-conscious.  After a bit of messing around she took a snap.  Her friend also took one of her own.  Oh, what the hell.  It was no secret any more.
“Thanks.”
They remained staring at him as he sent the picture.  A few seconds later Helen rang back.
“Lukie!” she cried ecstatically.  “Shit!  I can’t believe it!   You look so cute!  Love the uniform!  However did you manage to get in there?  It’s the perfect place for you, of course – all those girls.”  She sniggered.  “How’s it going – chatting them up in your…” – she stifled a giggle – “in your rubber baby pants?”
“Look…”
“Don’t say anything now.  You can tell us all about it when you come over.  Friday evening at seven.  I’ll text you the address.  Don’t be late…or - you know what to expect.   And, oh yes, wear your rompers, won’t you?  Those pretty blue ones.  Byeee!”
“Wait!”
But she was gone.  He clapped one hand to his forehead.  “Shit, shit, shit…fuc-k!”
Was this how his life was going to be?  One indignity after another?

It seemed that way.  It was his first day of getting back by himself. 
“You’re a big boy, now,” Georgia had said.  “I’m sure you don’t want us hanging around the school like year seven parents, do you?”
He had to wait fifteen minutes for the first bus, which was full.  The girls with him at the stop had beguiled the time teasing and pestering him, and while they waited for the next one the harassment became worse, particularly from the year sevens, who seemed, despite being newbies, the cheekiest of the lot.
“You’re Luke, aren’t you?”
No answer.
“Can I get a selfie with you for my mum?  Please…?”
“An’ me!”
“All of us!  Come on!”
There wasn’t really much choice.  They clustered around, some with their arms around his waist.  One tugged at his pants, pointing with her other hand as if to say, “See?  Rubber!”
He put up with it for a few minutes, but finally he reacted.
“Stop it!” he shouted, and stamped his foot.  This gesture only had the effect of sending the girls into hysterics.  He was saved further humiliation by the arrival of the bus, also crowded.  The girls could have pushed in front of him, but to give them their due they actually pushed him ahead.  He was momentarily grateful – till he realised they had him trapped in their midst, standing in the middle of the bus, and had to suffer prods and pinches and tickles and exploratory fingers all the way to his stop.

He alighted irritable and exhausted.  To avoid further attention as much as possible, he ran as fast as he could back to the house.  Georgia and Tessa were waiting, wanting to know all about his day.  He gave them a redacted account.  He knew he had to raise the matter of Friday evening.
“Er, Georgia…?”  (She had told him to drop the “Miss Randall”.)
“Yes, dear?”
“Er, could I possibly go out for a bit Friday evening?  I’ve been invited to meet up with some friends from my old school…”
“Really?  From P and S?”
“No, I mean my actual old school…”
“Oh.  Who are they?”
“Helen and Sandy…  They were a year above me…”
“Oh, that’s sweet of them.  But you understand I’ll have to ring them to check…  I’m obliged by the agreement with Miss Dearman to know where you are at all times.  I’m your guardian, you see…”

There was nothing for it but to give her Helen’s number.  She rang her straight away.
“Hello?  Is that Helen?  Hi.  My name’s Georgia Randall.  I’m just ringing to check you’ve invited Luke over on Friday evening.  I’m his guardian.  You did?  Oh, yes, I know.  Yes, he’s lovely, isn’t he.  Could I possibly have a word with your parent?  Thank you.”  She covered the phone.  “I’m going to speak to her mum, Luke.  Hello?  Hi.  Yes, I’m Georgia, Luke’s guardian.  Helen tells me…  Yes, that’s right.  Yes, I know.  So nice that they’re getting together again…   Yes…  Yes…  He can?  That’s so kind…   [aside] You can stay over, Luke.  Isn’t that exciting?  All right.  I’ll pack him a little bag.  We’ll drop him off…about seven?  Perfect.  See you then.  Oh, yes – put her back on.  Helen?  Hi.  It’s all fixed.  We’ll bring him over on Friday.  He has the address, right?  Yes. Okay, well…   Sorry?  His blue rompers?  Of course.  Yes, they are pretty, aren’t they?  Okay.  Bye, then.  Bye.”
She put down her phone.  “There Luke.  All done.  They sound really nice people…  Now, what homework do you have for tonight?”