The Portrait of Edward Gray

[sissyboy1212]

All Arranged for Aunty

       Sabrina and Skye continued their preparations with tireless, delighted attention, arranging Edward's outfit as though he were a treasured doll. Their voices had a warm, soothing murmur, but there was an unsettling undertone to their gentleness.

       Sabrina knelt beside him and teased his petticoat into an even fuller bell, coaxing the crisp tulle outward with patient little tugs. Then, she lifted each tier of his skirt and tugged the organza until the ruffles rose in soft, even waves. “There we are, darling,” she crooned. “We have to make sure your ruffles are all soft and fluffy.” Each tender word made Edward’s face burn hotter.

       â€śThat’s right, sweetheart—stand very still now,” Skye said, as gently as if she were calming a frightened child. “Just think how pleased your Aunty will be when she sees you!”

       Edward’s throat tightened. The mention of his Aunt Patricia sent a fresh shiver of anxiety down his spine. Even though she was nowhere in sight, her authority seemed to fill the room as if she were standing right there. His petticoat rustled around his trapped legs again, bright and cheerful, while shame crawled hotly across his neck.

       The girls continued to work on him. Skye smoothed his skirt again and gave his petticoat one last careful fluff. She beamed at him, “there now, little miss—no fidgeting!” Her tone was soft enough for a lullaby. Cringing, Edward stood obediently rigid inside the rustling dress, cheeks blazing.

       With Edward’s skirt and petticoat adjusted to their satisfaction, Sabrina moved behind Edward, and he tensed at once, following her reflection with wide, apprehensive eyes. She gently lifted his chin up, and he shivered nervously at her touch. Edward saw her raise an elaborate pink hair bow with long trailing ribbons unfurling on either side. “Now, be very still, sweetheart,” she chided softly. “I can’t have you wiggling while I arrange this darling bow.” In the mirror, he watched powerlessly. With fussy concentration, she nestled it among his curls and began weaving the glossy ribbons through one ringlet after another until they streamed down the sides of his hair. Edward felt each tiny tug at his scalp as she worked. He tried to remain still as he was told and trust Sabrina’s practiced hands, but the longer she fussed, the more uneasy he became. The spreading weight of the enormous bow made him wonder how he could possibly have so many ringlets. His breath shortened, and his eyes darted from Sabrina’s reflection to Skye’s.

       Skye noticed the worry on his face and answered it with her same patient smile, “Oh, sweetheart, why are you worried so? You just be nice and still and let Sabrina finish.” She giggled brightly as she straightened a ribbon crossing his waist and retied its bow into two immaculate loops. “There can never be too many ribbons on an outfit this pretty!” she gushed.

       Finally, it seemed Sabrina was done with his hair bow. “Now, just look at all your pretty curls and frills,” Sabrina cooed happily. “They’re exactly right for you, sweetheart.”

       Edward stared at himself in the mirror again, and his stomach plunged. Pink bows crowded his curls and cinched his waist, while frothing tiers of lace and ruffles swelled outward until his narrow reflection was almost lost beneath them. A helpless panic rose in his throat. He searched the glass for something familiar, but he was practically smothered in ribbons, frills and satin.

       As he watched defeatedly, Skye steadied his chin and began to carefully coat his lips with strawberry-flavored pink lipstick. “Chin up, little miss,” she said with exaggerated patience, “No squirming now!” The color went on in slow, deliberate strokes. It was slick and waxy, and the artificial sweetness filled his nose. Then, she drew back to admire her work and smiled. “There, that’s my good girl. See how darling that looks on you?”

       Edward’s cheeks flamed at the praise, the heat spreading down his neck. He thought, “Please don’t call me that. Don’t make me look,” but he couldn’t make the words come out. Instead, they were trapped behind his freshly painted mouth. His pulse fluttered, and the enormous bow tugged at his scalp whenever he trembled. The corset allowed him only a shallow breath, and the satin bodice held close around his ribs. His petticoat whispered ceaselessly around his legs. He wanted to protest and wipe the lipstick away, but his arms were still securely pinned under his dress. All he could manage was a tiny, miserable nod as he lowered his eyes.

       Just then, Aunt Patricia’s voice cut through the fitting room. Edward went rigid, and his breath caught for an instant. Everything seemed to settle into a sharper focus. As always, her voice was cultivated and composed. “Sabrina? Skye?” she called, “My goodness I should think we’ve given him long enough. Of course, take another moment if need be to make sure he is properly arranged, but I’m eager to see what you’ve done with him.” 

       Both girls straightened at once. Skye’s playful smile settled into professional attentiveness, and she smoothed the front of her suit instinctively. “Yes, ma’am,” she answered promptly, already stepping into place.

       â€śOf course, ma’am,” Sabrina called back. She exchanged a quick glance with Skye and adjusted Edward’s hair bow one last time with sudden attention.

       Sabrina and Skye moved to either side of him like attendants about to present a treasure.

       Aunt Patricia spoke again, still gracious and unhurried. “If you’re satisfied that he’s ready, then bring the darling boy out, please.”

       â€śRight away, ma’am,” the girls replied in unison.

       Edward felt as if his dress moved before he did. Its countless ruffles leaned toward Aunt Patricia’s voice obediently, and Edward felt himself pulled along with them. He tried to plant his feet, but the floor flowed softly beneath his ballet slippers and carried him forward. Then he felt as though he were going to tip over, so he started taking short, quick, mincing steps to keep up with his dress. The hidden hobble skirt made his skittish little steps almost comical. Meanwhile, the girls drifted effortlessly beside him as the melting walls streamed past in ribbons.

       Beyond the dissolving walls, Edward’s pulse raced as he finally saw his Aunt Patricia, standing regally. He was dismayed to see many other shapes gathered around her—a small crowd of clerks and customers arranged in a loose crescent. Then he saw the two women flanking her. Miss Vale stood on one side and Mrs. Bell on the other! Both wore bright, expectant smiles. Edward’s stomach dropped. Heat rushed into his face as he realized they had assembled for his embarrassment, eager to admire the finished result. He wanted to shrink back to the fitting room, but the enormous dress propelled him forward.

       â€śSmile for your Aunty, darling,” Sabrina whispered urgently without looking at him.

       Skye drew close on the other side. “Look pretty and happy,” she breathed. “And be on your very best behavior. You mustn’t disappoint her.”

       Edward’s nervousness broke into panic. He could not lift his arms, could not turn, could not even tell whether he was moving or the store was being pulled around him. He strained against the armless bodice until his breath became shallow, and every breath drew more of Sabrina and Skye’s perfume into him. He felt their gentle, feminine warmth on either side of him. He was acutely aware of a tingling friction under his petticoat as his tights and panties rubbed closely against one another with each dainty step. Little electric sparks darted playfully over his skin, and he began to feel lightheaded. Edward held his breath as he was presented for his aunt’s approval.

       Aunt Patricia said with a satisfied look, “There we are. At last.” She spoke cheerily, “Don’t you look precious!” Then she prodded her nephew directly. “I chose that exquisite dress especially for you, my darling,” she said brightly, “tell me, dear, don’t you just adore it?”

       He heard a loud ringing in his ears, and he felt sealed behind a flawless wall of pink satin. He knew what he was supposed to say. After an awkward, silent moment, he managed to stammer in a defeated whisper, “Yes… Aunty!”

       As he spoke, the pressure in his tights increased rapidly in little fits and starts. His face burned crimson, and he felt a sudden pulsing under all the frilly layers of his elaborate pink dress. He winced, and an uncontrolled shudder raced through his body. The lacy frills and ruffled flounces of his dress danced excitedly as if they knew what was happening.

       Then the dam broke. “Oh!” he gasped softly. All at once, he realized it was already too late…

       His pulse still pounding, Edward woke up with a start. The sun was already up.

[ace]

Hey Sissyboy, really loving the addition of the images to an already great story ... keep up the good work, we always need good authors like yourself, especially as we approach the sad anniversary of dear Betties passing ...

Ace

[sissyboy1212]

Thank you ace! And also thanks to you, bonzodoug from a week ago.

RIP Betty. You are missed.

[sissyboy1212]

A Morning Cut Short

       For several seconds Edward lay still, trying to decide whether he had only dreamed it. He had twisted the blankets and sheets in his sleep. He sat up quickly, and his satin nightgown slithered around him. Then he cringed as he felt a telltale warm wetness in his lacy tap pants. The realization made him freeze. A new wave of embarrassment washed over him, and heat rushed into his face even though he was alone.

       Percy sat on the bedside shelf in his neat blue suit, and Edward found he could not even bear to meet the doll’s glassy eyes. The absurdity of being embarrassed in front of a doll in his own room made him cringe.

       Edward quickly scrambled out of bed and looked for something to change into. His extensive array of new dresses greeted him as he opened the closet doors. With a sense of relief, however, he spied a couple of his old tee shirts still hanging on the far end of the closet. In his chest of drawers, he found a single pair of normal briefs and a faded pair of cargo shorts. He grabbed it all and rushed to the bathroom. Once inside, he did the best he could to clean up with some tissues, He shirked off his frilly pink nightgown and thankfully changed into his boys’ clothes for the first time since yesterday morning.

       Back in the bedroom, he dropped his soiled tap pants into the hamper and covered them beneath a towel where he hoped they would not draw attention. He sighed to see there were already a couple of other pairs of his panties in there, but oddly he realized that might keep the tap pants from drawing undo notice. For now, however, the familiar weight of his cargo shorts and the softness of an old tee shirt felt wonderfully ordinary. He had several hours before Aunt Patricia was due back to take him to his next hair appointment and the afternoon sitting. He knew all that would consume his entire afternoon, but he meant to hold on to every minute of the morning. Moving around his room in clothes that still felt like his own, Edward sensed a little of the space he had lost. His spirits rose a bit.

       At that moment, he heard his mother call him down for breakfast. He scrambled downstairs, leaving his nightgown on the bedroom floor. All of a sudden, he felt very hungry.

       Later, Edward had just finished a quiet breakfast with his mother and was practically luxuriating in the normalcy of an ordinary morning. His mother was doing some ironing near the window. Then, he heard a car door shut outside. Edward froze instantly, and his mother tensed noticeably. It was Aunt Patricia! She was here much earlier than either of them expected. It was barely nine o’clock!

       A moment later, Aunt Patricia swept through the front door in a flurry of her expensive clothing and determined good cheer. Her smile disappeared, however, when she saw Edward. She stopped short, and her gaze swept over his rumpled tee shirt and worn cargo shorts with obvious disapproval. Her nose crinkled. “Oh, Edward,” she said simply, the disappointment unmistakable.

       She refrained for the moment from making any immediate comment about his attire. It seemed she had something else on her mind. With visible effort, she recovered some of her brightness and turned to her sister. She spoke purposefully, “I know I wasn’t due until later, Marian, but I simply could not wait. She continued, “I couldn’t help but notice on our shopping trip yesterday that Edward still seems somewhat… ill at ease… in his dresses and curls.” Looking again at her boyishly dressed nephew, she couldn’t help but add with a hint of disdain, “Now I think I am beginning to understand why. What a shame he chose to wear… that… today with all the lovely outfits in his closet.” She gestured with her hand to emphasize the point.

       Edward’s lifted spirits from earlier collapsed. A flush crept into his face under Aunt Patricia’s disapproving scrutiny. Only moments ago, these familiar clothes had felt like old friends. Now, they seemed shabby and traitorous. He tugged nervously at the hem of his tee shirt and tried to look up at her. His eyes reached hers for barely a second before darting back to the floor. “I—I only thought…” He made another effort to meet her gaze, but her steady disappointment there made him avert his eyes again. “It was just for the morning, I might… I mean, just to be comfortable, Aunty.” His words faltered into an embarrassed murmur. Despite himself, he looked and sounded as though he had been caught misbehaving.

       â€śYes, well,” Aunt Patricia replied curtly, casually dismissing his explanation. She went on, “that’s precisely why we bought some new, perfectly comfortable clothes for you yesterday, sweetie!” Her expression brightened with proprietary satisfaction, “There is that sweet little dress with the darling pink-and-white stripes, for instance. It is soft, comfortable and ideal for wearing around the house.” She chided him, “Why not wear that, darling, instead of rummaging around in these tired old things?” As if to put a point on it, “how will you ever be able to embody the spirit of the portrait if you're unwilling to put in the effort?”

       Edward swallowed and gave a small, mortified nod. He was incredulous at the notion that he was not putting in enough effort. That portrait had practically taken over his life!

       Aunt Patricia clicked her tongue softly, and then she turned back to Marian as though Edward could have nothing further to add. She went on, “In any event, I had the most helpful idea on the drive home last night, and I wanted to tell you before the day got away from us.” She added eagerly, “I may have come across just the thing that will help Edward feel more natural for his sittings.”

       â€śJust the thing, Patricia?” his mother asked quietly.

       Edward’s stomach tightened as he braced for whatever she had dreamed up for him now.