The Portrait of Edward Gray

[Party Dress]

After spending most of the day in his yellow dress and underwear, his Aunt will probably show up tomorrow with some new items to wear. He cannot be wearing those clothes again after being worn for so long and before his mother has had a chance to wash them.
I wonder if Edward will ask his Aunt to stop calling him Edward in public and ask for a girl's name instead to stop drawing attention to the fact he is a boy. His Aunt will then stick to it, constantly reminding him he asked for this

[sissyboy1212]

A Piano Lesson

       The following Monday, as Edward started the first full week of summer break, he found himself on the way to a piano lesson. After some discussion between his mother and aunt on Saturday while he had been practicing scales, it was agreed that he should not abandon his lessons because of the demands of the portrait. Instead, his music lessons were simply reshuffled into the new order of things. With his new schedule, his piano teacher, Mrs. Baxter, had agreed to move his lessons to Monday and Thursday mornings for the time being.

       Aunt Patricia had of course weighed in. She thought this was another delightful opportunity for Edward to get used to his dresses, and she even offered to take him to the lessons so Marian might have some quiet mornings at home. Aunt Patricia took it upon herself to call Mrs. Baxter and explain the situation in advance. She even relayed how darling Edward had been in his lacy yellow party dress while playing scales on Saturday. When she brought him to his lesson on Monday morning, he was nattily dressed in his pretty pink frock, frilly white anklets and black Mary Janes. His shiny pink hair ribbon was tied neatly in place, and Edward felt the snug embrace of his ever-present corset hugging tightly underneath.

       Mrs. Baxter greeted Aunt Patricia quite calmly and set Edwrda’s lesson book on the stand as if nothing about the morning was unusual. Edward sat down very stiffly on the piano bench, very self-conscious of his frilly pink panties and mindful of his confining corset. He was careful to arrange his skirt demurely at his aunt’s prodding.

       Only after setting up the sheet music did Mrs. Baxter comment on his attire. She blinked over the rim of her spectacles, first at Aunt Patricia and then at Edward, who wished the piano bench might swallow him whole. “Well,” she said after a small pause, “that is a very lovely dress. Did you pick it out yourself, Edward?”

       â€śUhh, no Mrs. Baxter,” Edward said quietly, “My Aunt… Aunty Patricia gave it to me.”

       Aunt Patricia practically beamed at that.

       â€śIt’s… it’s for the portrait,” he explained reluctantly.

       â€śSo I understand,” Mrs. Baxter replied, settling herself beside him tactfully, “It is certainly a charming gift, and that pink seems to suit you.”

       â€śThank you,” Edward muttered meekly. He swallowed hard and felt his cheeks warm.

       Aunt Patricia couldn’t resist piping in with a pleased look, “that’s exactly what I thought when I saw it too.” She added, “his Aunty knew he would be adorable in it!”

       With that, Mrs. Baxter moved into the lesson, “Now let’s get our wrists level and shoulders relaxed.”

       As he placed his fingers on the keys, a glum thought returned to him. This was his summer vacation, the long free stretch he had spent months waiting for. Yet piece by piece it was now being claimed by the portrait. It seemed his whole holiday was turning into one long, suffocating sitting.

       Mrs. Baxter adjusted quickly, “Now, middle C.”

       Wearing a dress to piano changed the feel of the lesson in ways Edward could not ignore. The bench seemed narrower when he had to arrange a skirt over it. The pedals felt farther away when he was conscious of his frilly anklets and Mary Janes.

       Still, once his hands found the familiar pattern of the piece they were working on, he was distracted a bit. For the forty minutes or so, he was not exactly free from the portrait, but he was able to think of something else. Still, seeing his pink-polished nails dance over the black and white piano keys made him feel even more docile and girlish if he pondered it too long. It was better to focus on the music.

       When his lesson ended, Aunt Patricia guided her nephew back to her car. Edward had murmured goodbye to Mrs. Baxter as he felt propelled along by his aunt for the short ride home. He didn’t have anything else planned until his next sitting tomorrow, and he was hopeful his aunt would be done with him for the day. It seemed, however, that she already had something else on her mind, and Edward began to fret silently. Her body language was just too… purposeful.

       No sooner had they entered the front door than Aunt Patricia turned to her sister with that bright, insistent expression Edward had already learned to dread. “Marian, to continue our conversation from the other day, we really must be practical,” she said, as if the matter had already been decided and only needed to be announced. “Edward simply cannot manage with only these two dresses, not with his sittings and appointments and lessons. He needs some more things, and we ought not put it off any longer.”

       Marian opened her mouth as if to suggest that the matter could wait, but Aunt Patricia lifted her hand in a soft refusal. “No, Marian, truly, I insist.”  Then, she announced with an eager look, “I’ll take him to Morgan & Tate’s this afternoon at least to look if nothing else.” She looked at Edward with a beaming smile, “and you, my darling, needn’t worry your pretty little head about any of it. Your Aunty has made up her mind.”

       Edward knew Morgan & Tate’s was the fanciest department store in town. It was in the same shopping center where they had gone to lunch on Saturday. Any hope Edward had of escaping the for rest of the day vanished, and all his worries about an “expanded wardrobe” now proved well-founded. The first pink dress had been humiliating enough when it was only part of Miss Vale’s recommendations, almost a uniform for entering the world of the portrait. The second yellow dress, Aunt Patricia’s “gift,” had raised the stakes. Standing near the staircase in his pink frock and frilly anklets, Edward now felt trapped.

       His mother gave a sympathetic smile, but she soon acceded to her sister’s wishes. “Go with your aunt, Edward. It may be pleasant for you two to spend some more time together away from the studio.” It seemed she was trying to put the best spin on things. The hint of disagreement she had displayed on Saturday was nowhere to be found today.

       â€śYou needn’t look so solemn,” Aunt Patricia assured him, “Just follow Aunty’s lead. Aunty knows exactly what to do, and it’s going to be such fun!”

       â€śFun for who, exactly?” Edward thought glumly. “Isn’t looking… how shopping begins, Aunty?” he asked rather weakly.
 
       â€śPrecisely, sweetie!” Aunt Patricia replied, pleased by his grasp of procedure and easily turning his timid objection into agreement. And off they went. She seemed to be in an almost jovial mood. With Marian staying behind, it would be just the two of them this afternoon, and that seemed to make Aunt Patricia’s manner even more overbearing and insistent, perhaps even unfettered.

[sissyboy1212]

I hope folks are enjoying the story. I feel like I never want to stop editing LOL. The story is completely written (or drafted) all the way to the end, but I always feel the need to adjust and change things as I go. If you read Vicky's original story, then you might have an idea where this one will end up :)

Thanks for the suggestions and comments.

[sissyboy1212]

Morgan & Tate’s

       Morgan & Tate’s was a vast department store full of polished counters, brass rails, mirrored columns and ladies in stylish attire. Edward felt completely self-conscious as Aunt Patricia shepherded him directly to the girls’ department, then swept past the first displays of casual fashions without so much as slowing. He tried to console himself that Aunt Patricia had earlier left open the slim possibility that they might “just look,” but that seemed less likely with each step.

       Racks of casual skirts and fashion tee shirts stood near the aisle, but Aunt Patricia gave them only a dismissive glance. “No, no, dear,” she said, steering him briskly onward. “Those are not what we are here for. We need proper attire worthy of the occasion.” She bypassed the everyday clothing entirely and headed straight toward the section with the more formal and fancy selections, where shoes, hair ribbons and racks of elaborate dresses were arranged by color like precious flowers.

       Edward felt his stomach jump as he realized Aunt Patricia had not even considered lingering among the somewhat plainer clothes. Each step made him feel more conspicuous, as if everyone had turned to watch him be led deeper into Aunt Patricia’s idea of what he ought to become. He kept his eyes lowered, cheeks hot.

       Aunt Patricia took note of his uneasy demeanor and chided him with a trace of amusement, “Come along, dear, we need not make a production of it!” Then, she got the attention of a nearby saleswoman and immediately began to make a production of it. She jumped right in and announced to the clerk, “We are here to upgrade my nephew’s wardrobe. He is engaged in a very special and unique project which I am thrilled to support. Please show us some classic and refined dresses and accessories to complement his unusually fine features.” 

       Edward instantly understood with a helpless little twist of dread that there would be no pretense of “just looking” today.  Edward blushed brightly as the clerk learned he was in fact a sissified boy in a pink dress. He wanted to crawl into a hole, but there was no escape.

       â€śAunty… please…” he almost whimpered.

       â€śWhat troubles you dear? I am merely being precise,” she replied. As she spoke, she flashed a subtle warning look at him for his mild impertinence. She was in no mood to be denied.

       Edward gulped helplessly but remained silent. His aunt had no intentions of holding back today.

       The salesclerk gawked at them for a split second. Edward could see the wordless question on her lips, “Nephew?” But she didn’t voice it and recovered almost instantly. She then appraised Edward with a calm sense of professional cheer, which was somehow worse than curiosity. “We have some nice items on sale today that might interest you,” the clerk began.

       Before she could continue, however, Aunt Patricia gently cut her off, as if explaining something that ought to be obvious, “I am less interested in price tags than quality, my dear.” She looked at Edward with an expectant look and added cheerfully, “we are not here to cut corners today. Please bear that in mind.”

       â€śOf course, Ma’am, right away!” the clerk responded eagerly. Realizing this was actually a boy standing before her in an adorably sweet dress, she sized the situation up rapidly. She broke into a knowing smile as she began selecting dresses from the racks. Whatever questions she may have had were more than offset by the generous commission she sensed was there for the taking. One look at Aunt Patricia’s expensive clothing and a quick assessment of her feminized charge made it an obvious decision to put her curiosity aside.

       Blanching, Edward understood Aunt Patricia had not dragged him here merely to browse or even just pick up only an item or two. She had come armed with money, determination and a vision that she meant to make real before the afternoon was over.

       The afternoon soon proved exhausting in a way Edward had not known shopping could be. The clerk was surprised and then amused to discover he was laced into a snug little corset. “That explains your lovely posture, doesn’t it?” she teased kindly. 

       Again and again, Edward was ushered into the elegantly feminine fitting room with cream accents, plush carpet and a large three-way mirror. It seemed to Edward that as soon as he stepped out of one frock he was guided immediately into the next. Delicate and girlish fabrics slid repeatedly over his arms, legs and chest… slippery satins, tickling lace, and scratchy organza. Button after button, the fabrics gathered quietly around him. First, a pale blue dress drew neatly around his waist. Next, a lavender one settled with a hushed, powdery rustle. Later, a floral sundress brushed his knees in a breezy circle.

       With each dress, Edward’s feelings grew more on edge. He was embarrassed at the attention, and he was dejected to realize that this is how much of his summer vacation would undoubtably go. His aunt wasn’t buying all these clothes to hang unworn in his closet. He was a teenage boy, but he was aware that there was vanishingly little visible evidence of that now. His cheeks stayed hot almost constantly, and his stomach fluttered whenever he had to step out of the dressing room to show the next dress. More than once, he felt an excited tingling and tension in his frilly panties as the salesclerk zipped or buttoned him into yet another frock for his aunt's inspection. 

       Aunt Patricia’s enthusiasm seemed to grow with each new reveal. “Oh, that color is charming on him,” she said when he emerged in the pale blue dress. “The white sash is perfect… It will be lovely with some lace anklets and perhaps a nice barrette to bring out the color.” Then she directed, “Edward, stand up straight so we can see the line properly. Good. Now be still, hands at your sides.”

       Edward blushed but did his best to comply with his aunt’s instructions. She eyed his outfit up and down and tugged gently to arrange his skirt.

       â€śThere,” she continued, “Now let’s see you move back and forth a bit so we can see how it follows you, dear.”  When he stepped forward, she immediately corrected him, “small steps, sweetie. Move gracefully… you are not a lumberjack! Draw on that same 'feminine stillness' you display for Miss Vale.”

       Edward cringed again. Everything seemed to come back to that portrait.

       The salesclerk watched this exchange with interest. Then, she added helpfully. “Turn around, sweetheart. Let us see the back.” Edward obeyed with a stiff little pivot, and the skirt whispered around his knees.

       The clerk’s professional smile grew warmer with every new item she brought out, partly because she saw her commission growing by the moment. She also quickly realized that Aunt Patricia was completely uninterested in casual attire for her nephew. When she brought out a cute everyday top and skirt, for example, they were immediately rejected out of hand. It wasn’t long before she enlisted a second clerk to help with this very particular pair of customers, and they began bringing out the frilliest and most adorably girlish items in the store.

       Outside the fitting room, Aunt Patricia appraised each new dress with discerning satisfaction. She continued to dismiss anything that looked too plain or ordinary. The clerks remained professional, yet curiosity glimmered behind their smiles. Other customers could not help overhearing Aunt Patricia’s clear references to “Edward,” “my nephew,” and “him.” Each time, Edward felt newly exposed. He stood in dress after dress while glances flickered toward him, paused, and politely moved away. As the afternoon dragged on, the fitting-room carpet seemed endless beneath his Mary Janes.