The Portrait of Edward Gray

[Dancer4Fun]

I would have thought that Aunty Patricia would have included a pretty lemon coloured slightly padded training bra with his new dress.

If her goal is to eventually have him dressing fulltime a training bra would be the one thing that would be the most feminizing addition to his wardrobe.

Nearly all girls by the age of thirteen are wearing training bras weather they need them or not.   

The first time he put on his training bra is when he would realise this is no short-term thing.

"But Aunty I don't need a bra."

"You silly boy, a training bra will help you feel more feminine and help you find your feminine stillness."

[sissyboy1212]

Edward's Last Day of School

        For most of Edward’s classmates, the last bell of the school year rang with a jubilant finality. Almost at once the hallways became a river of students and voices chattering excitedly over one another. Lockers slammed open and shut. One of Edward’s classmates bragged that his family was leaving for the lake first thing in the morning. Another boy looked forward to his baseball camp. Even the teachers seemed a little lighter as they stood by their doors saying cheerful goodbyes while the students spilled past them into the warm afternoon.

        Each happy exchange among his classmates seemed to strike him in a different place. Summer, to everyone else, sounded wide open and carefree. To Edward it almost felt like a door closing. The rest of his afternoon would be subject to Aunt Patricia’s schedule and the demands of the portrait. Very soon, he would be prettily dressed in one of his dresses and on the way to Miss Vale’s studio for another sitting. Another long afternoon of ringlets, velvet, and stillness was in front of him. Even more days being dressed, curled, powdered and posed awaited him after that. He sighed in resignation. Weeks of his summer had been stolen in advance.

        And of course, there was also the matter that the girlish way he was spending his free time was no longer a close secret. That thought kept returning.  Lily knew, Hannah knew, Sophie knew, Rachel knew, and those were only the names he knew for sure. There seemed to be another cluster of girls at neighboring lockers, friends at lunch tables and older students who knew what a sissy he was becoming. Edward could not stop imagining Hannah sharing the pictures of him in his darling yellow dress at the ice cream shop. Who else would find out? Who had already found out?

        Edward moved through the crowd quietly, trying not to listen.

        As soon as he was home, he found himself back in his darling pink Sunday school dress. Then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, he was back in Miss Vale’s studio. This time, the swiftness of the transition unsettled him more than anything. Less than two hours earlier, the last bell of the school year had released everyone else into summer. He could still hear it in his mind. Edward had been carried in the opposite direction.

        He was again dressed with careful efficiency in his corset, tights, silk chemise and fluffy petticoats. He quietly endured the skilled pull of Mrs. Bell’s comb through his hair and the return of his adorably glossy ringlets. The vaguely familiar layer of powder and lipstick made his face soft and demure once more as he was again meticulously fastened into the old lilac gown.

        Miss Vale then guided him back onto the chair and made sure his layers of skirts and petticoats were arranged just so. She placed his hands and feet with that same gentle precision. Edward sat very still as the pose closed around him again. All Miss Vale’s little supports, stays and ties were put in place to ensure he held the most delicately girlish pose for his portrait. He knew now what each touch and adjustment meant, and he felt a fresh embarrassment in how quickly his body obeyed the routine. Jarringly, the happy sounds from the playground cascaded through the window as Edward was again enveloped in his elaborate Victorian finery.

        The seconds stretched into small eternities as he sat demurely, encased in his intricately feminine wardrobe.

        Aunt Patricia leaned toward his mother with a glowing smile. “He really is so lovely like this,” she murmured admiringly, “look how much more natural he looks today!”

        Edward silently cringed as his Aunt Patricia practically fawned over his girlish appearance. He was unsettled to feel another disturbing warmth and excitement in his frilly panties!

        Almost as if she sensed his reaction, his aunt’s smile widened with unmistakable satisfaction. “His hands rest so daintily, and it’s so sweet how those darling ringlets frame his face.” Aunt Patricia gave a pleased little sigh. “Practice has done wonders for our little darling. It is almost as if the gown remembers him. He looks as though he were born for this!”

        His mother nodded softly but did not speak. Miss Vale continued to paint with gentle but confident strokes of her brush.

        Later, with his fourth sitting mercifully behind him. Edward again sat with his mother and aunt in the little ice cream shop.  Aunt Patricia had decided it would be nice to continue these “outings” after his sittings as a reward. All things considered, Edward would much rather have gone straight home than spend more time dressed like this with all the eyes on him. He had been reticent to say anything, however, and his mother had of course gone along. So here he sat again back in his pink Sunday dress. He worried that Lily or Hannah or one of the other classmates who seemed to know about him would walk in any moment.

        It was while they ate that Aunt Patricia spoke again. “Edward, dear, now that school is out for the summer, we can make some more plans.” She continued, “Miss Vale told me that she thinks she will actually need about fifteen more sittings to get your portrait exactly right.”

        Edward started involuntarily. “Fifteen more… Aunty?” he managed to spit out.

        “Well yes, now that she’s had time to assess the work, I’ve asked her to make sure she captures all the rich details of your hard work, sweetie!” 

        Edward had been counting the days until summer looking forward to a reprieve. He had desperately wanted to reclaim at least a little free time away from dresses for himself. The last few days had been nerve-wracking. Now the number of sittings he would have to endure seemed to multiply of their own accord.

        “Since it appears we have all this extra time,” Aunt Patricia announced happily, “I spoke to Mrs. Bell today and she agrees we should arrange some maintenance appointments for your hair while you are doing your sittings.” She continued, “consistency is everything!” She explained, “Miss Vale cannot be expected to paint the same ringlets if they change from one session to the next.” 

        With a sinking feeling, Edward sat silently as Aunt Patricia informed him and his mother that she had already set up a series of “maintenance” appointments at Mrs. Bell’s salon, “Belladonna,” on Saturday mornings until the portrait was done. “Your first one is this Saturday,” she announced.

        Edward looked powerlessly at his mother, helplessly hoping she might object. Mrs. Gray only nodded uncertainly. “If Miss Vale thinks it will help the sittings, perhaps it is sensible.” Edward understood then that this portrait project had grown even more tentacles outside the studio.

        “And since we have such an open schedule before your sittings now, Mrs. Bell offered as well that we could bring you to Belladonna for a brief appointment before each sitting to put your ringlets in.” Aunt Patricia smiled, “It’s right down the street, and she just thinks it will be faster and easier to do it in her salon instead of the studio.  Of course, I agreed at once!”

        “Patricia, won’t that be expensive?” Edward’s mother asked hesitantly.

        “Don’t give it a second thought, Marian,” Aunt Patricia replied nonchalantly, “It was my idea, so of course I will see to it.” 

        Edward’s spirits plummeted. Now his Saturday mornings would be stolen too, and the added prospect of a hair salon visit before every sitting promised to draw things out even more. Adding this new regimen of hair care did not feel like dressing up for a single afternoon. A dress could be taken off. A little makeup could be washed away. But his hair was his hair, growing every day. Aunt Patricia now spoke of it as something to be preserved, trained and closely managed. The continuity of it all began to weigh on him, the idea that he was always being kept ready for this portrait’s increasing demands.

[sissyboy1212]

A Delightful Trip to Belladonna

       Saturday morning arrived in a flash. The first visit to Belladonna was more taxing, in some ways, than the first portrait sitting. On Saturday morning, Aunt Patricia had arrived earlier than expected to drive them to the salon. To his chagrin, Edward learned that his hair appointments would require the same preparation as the sittings themselves. He had been wearing a normal pair of shorts and a striped polo shirt when she made her entrance.

       â€śWhy Marian, why isn’t Edward dressed yet?” she asked with a trace of disappointment.

       His mother’s face tightened a bit, but she only said, “We didn’t expect you so early Patricia.” It came out rather feebly.

       For a moment, Edward was confused. He was dressed. “What do you mean… Aunty?” he began to ask. But even as the words left his lips, he instinctively knew the answer. He realized that it had been useless to pretend otherwise.

       â€śYou can't wear that, sweetheart," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Of course, we'll get you into one of your pretty dresses for your hair appointments, darling,” Aunt Patricia almost giggled as she removed any doubt. Then her expression changed to amusement if he had said something humorous. “The salon is part of the process now, dear. We can’t separate the maintenance from the portrait.”  With a more insistent tone she added, “it would be silly to show up for a girl’s hair appointment dressed as a boy, now wouldn’t it dear?”

       Edward gulped. Then he caved almost immediately with a monotone voice, “of course Aunty… that would be… silly.”

       â€śNever fear, Aunty is here!” she said cheerily. “I think that your adorable yellow frock would be perfect today. Let’s pair it with those precious tights again!” She added, “That outfit looked so charming in the ice cream shop the other day with your little friends!”

       Once Edward was dressed, they were off in Aunt Patricia’s fancy car. Belladonna was an elegant salon with gilt mirrors, glass shelves and soft salon chairs that turned gently beneath bright lights. At least in Miss Vale’s studio, everyone knew the purpose of his curls. At Belladonna, he was an object of new curiosity. Soon, Mrs. Bell led him to the back. He was sat down meekly in a salon chair amongst all the ladies getting their hair done in his frilly yellow dress, pristine white tights and shiny Mary Janes.

       Once he was perched on the chair, Mrs. Bell lifted Edward’s hair between two fingers and let it fall against his cheek. Propped on the counter, Edward saw the photograph of his great-great grandmother was displayed for reference.

       â€śWe just need to ensure your ringlets will continue to match the photograph,” Mrs. Bell observed, “and young hair grows fast.”  She added, “Miss Vale depends on consistency.” She went on, “We are just going to refine and shape the ends and maintain the overall length.” Edward stared at his reflection in the mirror, where his hair fell around his face in soft, betraying waves.

       Mrs. Bell began with a towel tucked carefully around his collar to protect his dress. A bright pink salon cape was snapped around his neck so that only his white tights and Mary Janes were visible beneath it. Then Mrs. Bell leaned the chair back and began washing his hair with lavender shampoo, working the suds through the longer strands near his temples with small circular motions. Next, she rinsed it until it fell smooth and heavy into the sink. Then she patiently worked in conditioner and rinsed again. She blotted his hair gently with a towel rather than rubbing. Finally, she sat him back up to face the mirror. She trimmed away the tiniest uneven tips and sectioned his still damp hair into neat rows with the point of a comb. She then wound it in soft rollers before drying it all gently with slightly warm air.  She set several “practice” ringlets just to make sure they would behave correctly for the sittings.

       As his hair was lovingly washed, conditioned and then carefully trimmed, Edward felt completely self-conscious and also a bit suffocated. The salon was unmistakably feminine in a way the studio was not. Belladonna was softer, brighter, and much more public. All around him, women discussed shades of nail polish, elegant hairstyles and fancy hair products. The sweet chemical smell of setting lotion and other scents filled the air. Sitting there in his yellow party dress under the pink cape made Edward feel as if he had crossed into a new reality. He wondered enviously how the other boys in his class were spending the first Saturday of their summer vacation. He was sure none of them were doing anything like this!

       And of course, many of the ladies made admiring comments about the precious little girl getting her hair done. They doted over his dress, and they were charmed when he blushed sweetly at the attention.

       Aunt Patricia and his mother watched it all from a comfortable sofa on the opposite wall. Embarrassingly, Aunt Patricia seemed to have no qualms in occasionally referring to him as “Edward” or “my nephew” a bit too loudly. More than one lady was surprised to find they were complimenting a sweetly attired boy! Of course, this only led to looks of bemusement and more conversation which just made Edward want to crawl into a hole.

       As Mrs. Bell finished up with him, Edward noticed a difference in his hair. It seemed to lay smoother and shine more brightly with a polished hint of curl at the ends. She unsnapped and removed his salon cape, and he watched glumly in the large mirror as she took pains to delicately arrange his pretty yellow hairbow in his freshly styled hair.

       Still watching himself in the mirror, Edward lifted one tentative hand to tentatively brush his curls with his fingers. They caught the salon light in glossy little curves, softer and brighter than he remembered his hair ever looking. “It looks so much softer,” he murmured before he could stop himself, his cheeks warming at the admission. After another uneasy glance at his image, he added in a smaller voice, “And… shinier too.” The words seemed to embarrass him as soon as they left his mouth.

       Aunt Patricia, meanwhile, practically cooed over his shiny locks. “Oh, Edward, look at you!” she exclaimed. “How darling, sweetheart. See how your curls catch the light now? It is so much more refined and polished.” She gushed, “it brings out the sweet delicacy in your features.” With a smile, she added, “This can only help in making your portrait come alive.”

       Edward had never given a lot of thought to his hair, but now it looked deliberately pretty and unmistakably girlish. It was glossy, curled, and fussed over in a way that seemed to invite attention. Embarrassment prickled at him as he realized just how much like a sweet little girl he now looked. He felt a pulse under his pretty dress as a small, traitorous flicker of admiration ran through his thoughts. His curls were indeed pretty. He was… pretty. He hated to admit it even to himself. If his hair could be trained so easily with a little shampoo, conditioner, trimming and curling to look this different and girlish, what else about him would be trained and shaped in this process?

[sissyboy1212]

Another Surprise Encounter

       Mrs. Bell pursed her lips for a moment as she appraised her work, and Edward felt the small pause lengthen. “Hold still for me, dear. Your hair is lovely, but it I think we need to add a finishing touch.” Edward blinked, unsure whether that was a criticism or not. Mrs. Bell reached onto the counter before he could ask. “Chin up,” she directed. Then she began dusting the lightest touch of powder across his face. After that, she brushed a faint bloom of blush onto his cheeks until they held a soft rosy tint. It was less makeup than she used in the portrait studio, but it felt significant because it was happening here in the public brightness of Belladonna. It seemed the portrait continued to follow him out of the studio. Finally, she touched his lips with the same pale pink shade she favored for the sittings, leaving only a delicate suggestion of color.

       Edward sat very still, afraid that any objection would only draw more attention. Mrs. Bell stepped back, studied him once more, and smiled with satisfaction. “There,” she announced. “That looks perfect with a touch of color… It just didn’t look quite right before.”

       Finally, Mrs. Bell was done. “There you are, sweetie,” she said with a bright smile, “all polished and pretty!” 

       â€śThank you, Mrs. Bell,” Edward replied softly. As the teen rose from the chair, he felt a little lightheaded from the overwhelming feeling that he was being being transformed. He shyly followed his aunt and mother back into the lobby of Belladonna. Aunt Patricia settled the bill, and Mrs. Bell expressed her thanks at what must have been a generous tip. As they prepared to depart, Edward was acutely aware of the new bounce of his softly falling hair. The lavender scent of the shampoo and conditioner lingered, and he felt as if even a slight breeze would make it flutter in a newly girlish way.  At that moment, the salon door chimed and more customers entered the salon. Edward turned just in time to see Lily arriving with her mother. Apparently, they were here for their own appointments!

       Lily stopped short in shock, recognition brightening her face as her eyes went at once to Edward’s smooth, shining hair. “Oh Edward!” she said, sounding delighted, “What a surprise to see you here… and in your adorable dress again!” Then she giggled and said, “Wow, your hair looks really nice. I had no idea you were… going so all out for your new look!”  She added, “that is a really cute hair bow!”

       The mention of his hair bow made Edward’s ears burn even more for some reason. He had almost managed not to think about it, but now he could feel it there again, lacy and secure among the curls, a dainty little finish that made his whole hairstyle seem even more openly pretty. Edward felt Lily’s compliments land strangely as he was exposed as this way in front of his schoolmate. And now Lily’s mother was there too.  Edward turned beet-red and became painfully aware of everything at once. He shifted his feet nervously in his glossy Mary Janes, overly conscious of his dress’s careful fit and the little shift of its skirt against his knees. His stomach tightened. A hot, prickling flush crept up his neck, and his hands gave a small, helpless twitch at his sides. He wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go. 

       Lily inspected him with open curiosity, taking in the yellow dress with its charming bubble sleeves and little flowers near the hem, the hair bow, the curled and shining hair, and the careful little details that made the whole outfit seem complete. “Oh,” she said with a gentle tease, brightening again, “you have your nail polish on again too… I was a little disappointed you took it off for school!”

       Edward’s fingers jerked almost before he could think. He curled them inward, tucking his polished nails against his palms, then shifted his hands behind the folds of his yellow skirt as if the fabric might somehow hide them. But the quick movement only made him feel more exposed. Lily smiled as if his bashfulness only made the look more charming. “It really does all go together,” she said sweetly. “The dress and tights, your hair, the hairbow, your nails, those darling shoes. Oh my gosh you're even wearing makeup! You look… very sweet, Edward.”

       Edward’s cheeks warmed more, and he lowered his gaze toward his Mary Janes. “Thank you, Lily,” he managed softly. He felt keenly aware of the slick pink lipstick coating his lips.

       â€śMrs. Bell just finished up on him,” Aunt Patricia couldn’t help but add, “she did a wonderful job!”

       Edward blushed more deeply, and Lily tugged lightly at her mother’s sleeve. With a quick little smile, she said, “Mom, this is the boy I told you about… the whole portrait thing?” Then with a grin, she added, “although he doesn’t look much like a boy today! That’s the same dress he was wearing in the ice cream shop!”

       Lily’s mother looked from Edward’s flushed face to his neatly arranged curls and demure outfit, then smiled kindly although with some surprise she could not quite conceal. “Oh yes. Well,” she said pleasantly, “it’s very nice to meet you, Edward. Lily told me all about your interesting project, and I will say you look very carefully put together today. Your curls are lovely.”

       Edward’s mother gave him a gentle verbal nudge. “Edward,” she said softly, smiling politely at Lily’s mother, “what do we say, honey?”

       Edward swallowed, aware of Aunt Patricia standing just behind him. “Thank you, ma’am,” he replied in a small but careful voice.

       Lily’s mother softened her smile, and she gave Edward an encouraging nod. “You’re very welcome,” she said. “I must say you seem very… dedicated to this unusual pursuit.”

       Lily looked him over again, and her curiosity softened into a teasing smile. “So I have to ask… is this your only dress?” she asked. “Or do you have others too?”

       Edward’s blush deepened, and he glanced down at the glossy toes of his Mary Janes before answering. “I… I have a pink one too,” he admitted reluctantly.

       Lily’s eyes lit up instantly. “Oh? I bet it’s adorable too,” she said gently, “I’d love to see that one sometime!”

       Edward’s stomach fluttered at that. Somehow Lily’s interest felt even more dangerous than her teasing. He felt a hot blush spread up from his collar. The thought made him lower his gaze again. He gave a small, nervous shrug as if that might make the whole subject go away.

       Aunt Patricia, on the other hand, practically beamed, her face shining with satisfaction as she stood just behind Edward and looked him over with unmistakable pride. She seemed almost unable to keep quiet, her smile growing each time Lily or her mother noticed another detail. “I’m sure that could be arranged couldn’t it, Edward?”

       There was an uncomfortable silence, and Edward realized that they were all waiting for him to speak. “Uh yes… Aunty… sometime, maybe,” he stammered weakly.

       â€śHis look is coming along beautifully” she said, lightly resting a fond hand on his shoulder. “For the portrait… of course,” she added as a hasty, amused afterthought.

       Edward stood between Lily’s delighted smile and Aunt Patricia’s glowing pride feeling thoroughly flustered, as if both of them were seeing right through him. Every compliment tilted him further off-balance. He was embarrassed by his dress, his dainty curls and his shiny nail polish, but he could not quite deny the uncomfortable truth that all of it suited him more than he wished it did. He knew how pretty he looked. That was what made the moment so confusing.

       In the moment, he cringed to think that despite everything that had happened so far, this felt like only the beginning. The thought struck him with a sinking weight that seemed to pull the air out of his chest. There were still many portrait sittings ahead of him. There were more careful afternoons where he would have to sit perfectly while Miss Vale smoothed his dress, adjusted his curls and positioned his hands. There would be more visits to Belladonna with more trimming, curling, brushing and styling.

       He sighed softly.

    A few minutes later, having said an awkward goodbye to Lily and her mother, they were walking back to Aunt Patricia’s car. “You know,” Aunt Patricia said with thoughtfully, “your little friend Lily made me think that it’s a pity you only have the two dresses to choose from.” She continued, “they need to be cleaned on a regular basis, and you should have more options. I think your wardrobe ought to rise to the occasion.”

       Edward nearly froze as she spoke. “My wardrobe, Aunt… Aunty Patricia?” Over the last week, his aunt had begun encouraging him to use the more childish term “Aunty” as opposed to the slightly more grown up “Aunt” when he spoke to her. If he called her “Aunt Patricia,” there was always a flash of disappointment in her eyes. He kept trying not to rock the boat.

       â€śJust a few items, sweetheart,” Aunt Patricia said brightly. “Another pretty dress or two, perhaps. An extra pair of shoes for variety. Some nice things suitable for your sitting days and the salon. Perhaps some different things for some more outings like the museum now that school is out. We could go shopping together.”

       â€śAunty Patricia,” Edward began, “I don’t think I really...”

       She interrupted him again, “oh don’t be silly, darling,” she said brightly, “your Aunty will be more than happy to get you some more delightful things.”

       Edward grimaced, and Mrs. Gray gave her sister a pleading look. By his mother’s standards, this was an almost shocking display of disagreement.

       Aunt Patricia clearly noticed, but she only smiled as if this resistance were merely a charming preliminary stage. She replied with an amused grin to her sister, “you certainly can’t argue that he should have some extra changes of undergarments at the very least… for hygiene if nothing else!”

       Edward’s mother was silent.

       Aunt Patricia continued almost imperiously, “well, we shall see.”

       Edward hoped very much that they would not. All the way home, and for hours afterward, the word “wardrobe” would come to trouble him more than he wanted.

[sissyboy1212]

Lunch with Aunt Patricia

       Edward was relieved when they finally got back home. Hopefully, his aunt would leave, he could change and then he’d be done with dresses and curls at least for a while. Aunt Patricia paused beside the car, however, wearing a thoughtful look that had followed them out of Belladonna. The morning had grown bright and warm.

       â€śYou know, Marian,” she said, looking Edward over with immense satisfaction, “it would be a shame to just stay home after all that effort this morning. He looks so nice and presentable, and it is such a lovely day.”

       Edward’s heart sank a little, because he sensed at once where this was going. He would be thrilled to just stay at home right now. His mother glanced toward him, perhaps ready to say that they’d already had a busy morning, but Aunt Patricia continued before any objection could materialize. “Why don’t we go out for a light lunch?” she suggested brightly. Then, with a pleased little smile, she added, “I’m in the mood for a nice fresh salad or a small sandwich. Besides, the fresh air would do us all good.”

       It seemed to be decided. They spent a few minutes at home first to freshen up. Aunt Patricia couldn’t resist making some small adjustments to Edward’s appearance. Apparently, he had managed to get his hair bow crooked between the salon and the house, so she set it right. She also insisted on smoothing his skirt where a slight wrinkle seemed to have appeared, as if he had put it in there on purpose. Edward stood before the hall mirror and endured these little attentions with a weary resignation.

       Within the hour, Aunt Patricia drove them to a bistro-style cafĂ© tucked along a pedestrian lane in the new shopping center of town. The place had a European air with colorful awnings and a pleasant terrace outside. Inside, the walls were hung with small framed prints of Paris streets and seaside villages, but Aunt Patricia wanted to sit on the terrace.

       The hostess smiled and led them to a table next to a row of planters with boxwoods and flowering plants. From there, they overlooked the busy pedestrian area. It was a wide brick walkway where shoppers drifted past with paper bags and people were window shopping. From where they sat, pedestrians were only a few feet away on the other side of the planters.

       Edward sat carefully, aware of the faint rustle of his skirt as he lowered onto the chair. Edward would have preferred to eat inside. Here, on the terrace, he felt as if he were on constant display to everyone walking by. The waitress brought glasses of water beaded with condensation, and Aunt Patricia took her time reading through the menu.

       After a while, the waitress returned. Before taking their orders, he paused as she took in Edward’s attire and said, “My goodness… what an adorable outfit!”

       Edward’s face went hot at once. He knew exactly what she was seeing. He drew his ankles together under the chair and pressed his hands together as if it would make his dress and tights less obvious.

       Marian gave the waitress a careful smile, polite and grateful at the edges, but it did not quite reach her eyes.

       Aunt Patricia, by contrast, looked pleased enough to glow. “Thank you,” she said pleasantly. “He is precious, isn’t he?” she continued, “My nephew Edward here is working on a special family project involving a portrait, and he has been such a doll today!”

       The waitress blinked in surprise. “Edward… is it?” she asked, clearly off balance. Before Edward could answer, she recovered, ““Well… Edward,” she said, making the correction with some awkwardness, “you do look very nicely put together today.”

       Edward turned crimson. He managed a tiny, feminine nod. “Thank you, miss,” he whispered, though the words seemed to catch in his throat. Edward lowered his eyes to the white plate in front of him and wished the bushes next to the table were taller.

       In contrast, Aunt Patricia looked serene and satisfied, as if the matter had been clarified for everyone in the bistro. Then, she ordered for the table. She got chicken salads on croissants for herself and her sister. For Edward, she ordered a Croque Madame. Edward had no idea what that was until he looked at the menu again. It appeared to be a fancified ham and cheese sandwich. She also ordered a delicate cuc-umber sandwich plate to be shared by the table. 

       â€śNothing too heavy,” Aunt Patricia said approvingly, folding her napkin across her lap.

       Soon the food arrived on fussy little plates. As they ate, people walked down the pedestrian lane in a steady stream. A few smiled at the three of them occasionally or even spoke. Edward felt that all the passersby must have looked at them and thought they were just two ladies enjoying lunch in the fresh air with their prissy daughter or niece. The thought made his cheeks warm.

       Then, to Edward’s horror, two boys from Edward’s school, Tommy and Ben, wandered lazily into view along the sidewalk.  They were laughing and looked completely at ease. Edward recognized them at once. They weren’t his friends, exactly, but he knew them. 

       â€śPlease don’t look over here,” he thought, “Please keep walking!”

       He drew his elbows close to his sides, as if making himself narrower might make him invisible. The pair of boys slowly passed the cafĂ©, still grinning. Then, Tommy looked toward the table and his laughter quieted. Ben followed his gaze. For a moment they stared at Edward with uncertain recognition, their faces narrowing as if they had seen something familiar that they couldn’t quite place.

       As Tommy and Ben stood there, just on the other side of the planters, it seemed their attention was caught but not settled. Edward went rigid in his chair. He lowered his chin by the smallest degree. Then, mercifully, something farther down the sidewalk caught Ben’s attention. Tommy seemed to follow his look. Tommy made the slightest shrug. After a brief pause, the boys exchanged a look Edward could not read and drifted on down the sidewalk. Their conversation seemed to resume, but Edward could not hear what was said. Perhaps, he hoped, it had nothing to do with him at all.

       Edward scarcely breathed until their backs were several yards away. For one blessed second, he let himself believe he had escaped. But the certainty did not last. A small uneasiness remained. Tommy had stared a beat too long. Ben had looked twice. Perhaps they had only failed to place him in the moment. Perhaps the connection would come later. Edward tried to convince himself that if they had recognized him, they would have said something. Still, doubt stayed with him, quiet and persistent.

       Aunt Patricia noticed the change in Edward’s demeanor at once. Her gaze moved from the boys walking away to Edward’s hunched shoulders, and one eyebrow lifted by the smallest degree. Instead, she asked in a voice that seemed meant for the table but carried farther than it needed to, “Edward, dear, did you know those boys?”

       â€śYes, Aunty… from school,” he murmured.

       Aunt Patricia brightened at once. “Well, then, you should have said hello, dear,” she said cheerfully. “There is no reason to sit there looking as if you have been caught at something. It would be the simplest matter in the world to explain about your portrait.” She smiled as though the situation were perfectly ordinary, “They would probably have found it fascinating, really!”

       Edward stared at her, flabbergasted. For a moment he couldn’t decide whether she truly failed to understand or whether she understood perfectly and was just choosing to pretend otherwise. Did she honestly imagine Tommy and Ben would nod thoughtfully at the story and immediately understand why he was dressed as a dainty little girl?

       â€śAunty… please,” he started helplessly, but the words would not come. He looked from her to his mother and back again, searching for some sign that the obvious had landed.

       With a thin smile, his mother simply said, “Just eat your lunch sweetheart.”

       Aunt Patricia gave a light little laugh, as if his distress were a charming misunderstanding. “Oh, Edward, you mustn’t be so dramatic,” she said cheerfully. “Truly, you look very distinguished, and one must expect a certain amount of attention when one is dressed properly. There is nothing wrong with being noticed for appearing neat, polished, and well presented.” She tilted her head, studying him with satisfied approval.

       Edward stared at her, too stunned to interrupt.

       Aunt Patricia seemed to enjoy the effect. As they continued eating, she gaily discussed the portrait, the salon, and the importance of presenting oneself properly in the same voice she might have used to comment on the weather. Then, she seemed to take more interest in Edward’s table manners. “Careful with your napkin, dear,” she said, smoothing the linen over her knees to demonstrate. “It saves one from all sorts of little disasters.”

       Edward obediently smoothed his own napkin over his lap, very conscious of his skirt brushing against his tights. 

       â€śAnd take smaller bites,” she added lightly, “one should never treat a luncheon like a race.”

       As she watched, Edward took a tiny nibble of his sandwich, moving more slowly. She admonished him to keep his hands in his lap when he was not eating, to keep his knees demurely together beneath the table and to use his napkin to dab at his mouth before drinking. Soon Edward was painfully conscious of his every motion as he picked at his lunch like a nervous bird.

[gunrunner]

Edward is in a sticky situation. He does not want to offend his "Auntie" and posibly effect the money she provides his mother.
But being an intellegent young man; he can surly create a suttle protest of sorts. sissyboy1212, you have mentioned several times that it is a task to always pose in the same postion, even with the support equipment. So, if they have to break the pose several times each session for a bathroom break, Edward would be protesting in a suttle way. Curtainly, the need to quinch a thirst woiuld be denied. When Edward would have privite time to potty and wash his hands, he could drink a little more. It may not seem like much, but it would give him some satifaction to know his "Auntie" would be frustrated.
Then heaven forbid, he should leak a little, and scare them that the old dress would be stained.
He is a young boy and he surely can come up with some form of protest. Maybe this would lead to not having to wear that horrid old dress for each session.
Thank you for your efforts, and my you continue to have the muse to write.

[sissyboy1212]

Window Shopping... and a Long Afternoon

       By the time the plates were cleared and Aunt Patricia had decided there was no need for dessert, Edward had grown almost hopeful again. Their lunch was nearly over. His mother reached for her handbag, and Edward sat up straighter, eager for a short walk back to the car and then the blessed privacy waiting at home.

       Aunt Patricia, however, had other ideas. “While we are out,” she said, rising with an air of pleasant decision, “we ought to look at the shops… Just some window shopping.”

       Edward’s spirits deflated. He followed because there was no other choice, keeping close to his mother. Aunt Patricia moved at a leisurely pace down the sidewalk, pausing now and then before the various window displays. 

       Soon they passed a bridal shop, and she stopped in front. The window was filled with pale satin, lace, and gauzy little clouds of tulle. Bridesmaid dresses in soft pinks and blues stood on slender forms, while petite flower girl dresses were arranged near the front with sashes tied into enormous bows. Aunt Patricia appeared delighted. “Oh, Marian, look at these,” she breathed. “Aren’t they simply precious?”

       Edward cringed.

       Aunt Patricia leaned nearer the glass, “Such pretty bridesmaid dresses, and look at those precious little flower girl frocks.” She smiled at her befrocked nephew, “Aren’t they adorable, Edward? Do you see anything you’d like to try?”

       â€śAunty,” Edward whispered, pleading. His face warmed all over again. He dared not look at the window too directly, afraid that any glance might be taken as interest. “No... thank you.” The suddenly real thought of being taken inside the shop to be fitted in pale satin and tulle made his stomach twist. 

       Aunt Patricia seemed not to hear his refusal. She pointed through the glass at one dress in particular, a delicately pale pink flower girl dress with tiny sleeves, a satin sash, and a tea-length skirt that fell in soft, careful layers. “That one, I think,” she mused, smiling at the display as if already imagining it. “Something pale and sweet like that would be lovely on you, sweetie. You would make such a charming little flower girl.”

       She warmed to the vision at once. “Can’t you just picture it, Marian?” she said. “Our little Edward all daintily dolled in that satin confection, with that sash tied beautifully at his back and a lovely spray of flowers tucked into those curls. He would be absolutely darling!” She looked at him with open delight. 

       Edward felt a new wave of embarrassment wash over him as she spoke. “A flower girl?” he thought with a wince. He imagined having to walk solemnly down an aisle decked out in pale pink satin while everyone turned to gawk at him. Aunt Patricia’s earlier remarks about expanding his wardrobe flooded back into his brain with dreadful clarity. She had spoken as if more dresses were not a temporary excursion, but rather a sensible next step for him. The pink flower girl dress was not an idle fancy, he realized. She had not let the idea go at all. He was certain his face must be as pink as the dress in the window. Dressed as he was, it was not hard to imagine how the tiny sleeves of the flower girl dress might gather at his shoulders and how the skirt would flutter merrily as he walked. “Please don’t… Aunty,” he whispered, so softly it was almost not a voice.

       What unsettled him most was the way Aunt Patricia kept returning to this idea with such calm certainty. Edward got the distinct sense that she was merely biding her time.

       Marian, who had been studying the window display with a measured expression, gave a small shake of her head. “But, Patricia, it really wouldn’t be practical, would it?” she questioned gently. “Edward isn’t scheduled to be in any weddings, so it would just hang in the closet.”

       Aunt Patricia turned from the window with a soft, indulgent smile. Edward’s consternation did not seem to trouble her at all. “Well, perhaps you are right,” she said. “Still, I can’t imagine it would be difficult at all to find occasions for him to enjoy it. Sometimes it is a joy to dress up for no reason at all beyond wanting to feel precious and pretty! Maybe...” She let that uncertainty linger hover uncertainly for a moment, neither withdrawing the idea nor pressing it further.

       â€śIt’s a shame he hasn’t had an opportunity to be a flower girl… at least not yet,” she mused mischievously. She giggled and added, “he would look lovely in it I’m sure, but there might always be another time.” Her words landed with a gracious little pause, as if generously allowing her sister to believe she had prevailed for once. But from Edward’s perspective, it felt like Aunt Patricia was merely playing a game. 

       His mother’s objection had sounded sensible, even protective, and for one foolish heartbeat Edward had wanted to be grateful for it. But Aunt Patricia’s smile spoiled that comfort. Marian’s momentary firmness seemed like something Aunt Patricia had permitted for her own amusement, a small rebellion allowed because it cost her nothing. In the end, it seemed, the final decisions would still belong to Aunt Patricia. 

       At that moment, movement across the street caught Edward’s eye. He was immediately distracted. Tommy and Ben were passing by again on the opposite side. Both boys slowed, and once more their attention lingered on him a little longer than it should have.

       Edward went beet-red. He turned back toward the bridal-shop window as if the reflection might hide him, but the move only gave him a reflection of himself in the glass. He could see a translucent image of his prettily curled hair, his frilly yellow party dress and a mortified expression.

       Aunt Patricia noticed at once. She followed his gaze and smiled brightly. “Why, Edward, there are your friends again,” she said, using his name with dreadful clarity.

       Edward winced before he could stop himself. Had they heard his aunt? Surely other noises must have drowned out his name. He saw in the reflection that Tommy’s head tilted a fraction, and Ben glanced in their direction. Edward’s stomach tightened with a fresh twist of uncertainty. Thankfully, they kept moving in the opposite direction and turned a corner out of sight.

       Again, he told himself they might not have known. But seeing them this second time made that hope thinner than before. If they had wondered at lunch, surely now they would wonder even more. And if they had heard Aunt Patricia say his name, even from across the street, then perhaps there was no wondering left at all.

       The drive home passed in an uncomfortable silence. As they pulled into the driveway, Edward longed to just go straight upstairs, close his bedroom door, and change out of these clothes. He could almost feel the relief.  The thought carried him through the front door.

       But it turned out Aunt Patricia was in no hurry. She seemed to settle in for a pleasant visit and drifted into the sitting room with the serene expectation that everyone else would follow. Edward hovered near the staircase for one hopeful second, but Patricia’s voice reached him before he could take a step. “Come along, dear. Don’t disappear just yet.”

       The afternoon settled into a quiet, painfully long visit. Soon, Aunt Patricia and his mother brought out a stack of old family albums from the lower shelf of the bookcase, and Edward sat demurely nearby while they turned the stiff black pages and murmured over photographs of weddings, summer holidays and little children from years past in carefully arranged clothes.

       More than once Aunt Patricia paused over a faded photograph and tilted it toward Edward. “See how much trouble people once took to make children look proper?” she would say, as though the picture proved something. Edward nodded when he was expected to nod, keeping his hands folded and his knees together, while every beribboned child and lace-collared cousin in the album seemed to offer Aunt Patricia another quiet argument in favor of her ideas. With a feeling of resignation, Edward began to sense that his aunt was purposefully lingering to make sure he had no chance to get changed out of his pretty dress.

       After they looked at the albums, Marian suggested that Edward might practice his piano for a little while. He seized on the suggestion at first, grateful for anything that gave him a clear task and spared him from sitting beneath Aunt Patricia’s inspection. But even the piano failed to feel ordinary. The hem of his yellow dress spread over the bench when he sat, and he had to arrange it before placing his feet near the pedals. Aunt Patricia took a chair nearby and listened with folded hands as Edward began to play a few scales. Then, he played a simple piece Marian liked, keeping his eyes on the keys.

       After he was done at the piano, Edward remained downstairs in his yellow dress. He perched on the edge of a chair while the two sisters talked about the salon, the portrait and how nice the museum visit was.

       Aunt Patricia alluded to his wardrobe again only once more in passing, as if discussing curtains. “We must think practically, of course,” she said, stirring her tea. “But if Edward is to do this properly, it may be wise to have a few more suitable things on hand.”

       His mother made no promise, yet she did not dismiss the idea either.

       When Aunt Patricia finally rose to go, the afternoon light had already begun to soften at the windows. Edward stood with his mother in the hall while Patricia kissed his mother’s cheek and then turned to him with one last approving look. “What a lovely day, my darling,” she said. “With more practice, you will be much more comfortable in your frocks and dresses.” Then, she rested her hand on his dainty shoulders to pull him closer, “Let Aunty give you a kiss, sweetie,” and then she pecked him on his cheek.

       Edward stiffened. He could feel the faint, waxy print of her lipstick on his skin even before Marian’s eyes flicked toward it. Aunt Patricia gave a soft little tut, opened her handbag, and drew out a folded tissue with unhurried precision. “Oh, but look what I’ve done,” she murmured, as if the mark were a sweet little accident.

       She touched the corner of the tissue lightly to her tongue, then held Edward still with the gentlest pressure beneath his chin and dabbed at his cheek. The gesture was delicate but smothering in its delicacy. Edward stood motionless while she wiped away the lipstick, feeling smaller with every soft pat of the damp tissue.

       At long last, she left. Edward watched from the doorway until her car disappeared down the street. Only then did he climb the stairs, each step lifting the prissy yellow skirt against his knees. Relief should have come then, but it was uneasy. Even as he opened his bedroom door, he could still hear Aunt Patricia’s voice in his head.