Sorting out Simon by Dara Janey

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Sorting out Simon - Week 1Sorting out Simon - Week 1

Username: DaraJaney, Sep/7/2005 18:27:56 [-04]



      Mrs. Singleton had just finished her cup of tea with Ms. Ingram when they

      brought Simon back. Ms. Ingram had promised that her programme would

      ensure that Simon would no longer be a troublesome boy. His mother had no

      idea what the programme involved.



      At first she did not realise that it was Simon at all. This very large

      woman hauled a girl in to the room and Mrs. Singleton wondered if there

      had been some mistake. But then she recognised Simon’s features under all

      that make-up.



      The large woman let go of him but stood guarding the door. Simon stood

      squirming in front of the women. He was wearing a powder blue jacket and

      pleated mini-skirt over white tights. Under the jacket he had a very thin

      white blouse with a wide lace collar. Lacey cuffs protruded from the

      sleeves of the jacket. A frilly camisole could be clearly seen under the

      blouse and he must have been wearing a stuffed bra under that. Matching

      powder blue court shoes completed the ensemble.



      His face was made-up with a little blush (although that could have been

      real), lipstick and blue eye-shadow. His hair had been curled and clip-on

      earrings dangled from his lobes.



      He wrung his hands anxiously in front of his skirt as his mother looked

      him over. He slouched and bowed his head in embarrassment. Ms. Ingram

      walked around him examining their handiwork. “Now I think that you’ll find

      that after a few weeks with us Simon will modify his behaviour if he knows

      what’s good for him. Otherwise he may become Simone on a long-term basis.”



      A couple of tears came to Simon’s eyes as the women looked him up and down

      and he contemplated spending weeks in skirts. Ms. Ingram slapped his hands

      away and instructed him to straighten up. Then much to his shock she

      lifted up the front of his skirt. Under the tights they could see blue

      panties with a lace trim. The only tell tale sign of Simon’s true gender

      was the incongruous bulge under the panties.



      “Do you think this is really necessary?” his mother asked doubtfully. “I

      can assure you that we have a 100% success rate”, Ms. Ingram replied.

      “When you come back next week you’ll see an immediate improvement”.



      Simon blurted “please don’t leave me like this!” Ms. Ingram gave him a

      slap on the bottom and warned him “now, now, young man, you’d better

      behave yourself or you will only make matters worse.” Simon wondered how

      much worse things could get. He looked desperately at his mother for some

      sign of reprieve. She seemed to doubt if she was doing the right thing.



      “Alright. You’re to do everything that Ms. Ingram asks of you, do you

      hear?” his mother told him. He was crushed at this confirmation that she

      was going to leave him like this. He pressed his knees together in a

      desperate attempt to feel less exposed in the short skirt but the feeling

      of nylon rubbing against nylon just reminded him that he was wearing

      horrid tights.



      His mother went towards the door. “PLEASE Mum”, Simon blurted again. He

      was met with another slap on the bottom. “Young man you are getting off to

      a bad start, if you are not careful you will end up in an even more

      effeminate outfit.” With that his mother was gone and he was left to Ms.

      Ingram’s devices.

[BetBots]

Sorting out Simon - Week 2Sorting out Simon - Week 2

Username: DaraJaney, Sep/8/2005 15:49:28 [-04]



      The following week Mrs. Singleton was again having tea with Ms. Ingram

      when Simon was shown in. He stumbled clumsily in to the room in very high

      heels. He was wearing a black jacket and black and white mini-kilt over

      black tights. He tugged nervously at the hem of his skirt. His mother

      noticed that he seemed to have a very much more feminine shape overall and

      he no longer slouched but stood perfectly erect.



      “I’m afraid that Simon has not been co-operating with us very well”, Ms.

      Ingram said. “He will need to learn that disobedience will only make his

      situation worse. We have put him in a corset since yesterday”, she told

      his mother. That explained his much more feminine shape and why he stood

      so straight.



      His mother noticed then that the loop on his earrings ran right through

      his lobes. His ears had been pierced! He saw that she noticed this and a

      tear came to his eye. “Those are four-inch heels”, Ms. Ingram informed

      her. “He must wear them now from morning to night. He cannot bend over far

      enough to unstrap them anyway in that corset. Turn around Simone.” Simon

      winced at the mention of the feminine version of his name.



      When he turned his mother saw the seams running down the backs of his

      legs. The left one was a little crooked. “Straighten your seams for

      goodness sake”, Ms. Ingram barked. Simon jumped. He stuck his right leg

      out behind and twisted to try to see the seam. “The other one”, Ms. Ingram

      added helpfully.



      He bent down as much as the corset would allow in order to reach,

      revealing a lace stocking-top straining on a metal suspender clip. His

      mother gasped when she saw he was wearing stockings not tights and put her

      hand to her mouth. Simon realised what he had revealed and straightened

      quickly. He was now torn between Ms. Ingram’s instruction to straighten

      his seam and the knowledge that in doing so he was showing everyone his

      stocking tops. In the end he obviously decided that they had seen whatever

      they were going to see and he bent again and adjusted his stocking.



      When he was done Ms. Ingram stood forward and pulled up his skirt. “The

      suspender straps are attached to his corset”, she showed his mother. Simon

      could only stand there and endure this exposition.



      His mother continued to notice changes in his appearance since last week.

      His scarlet lipstick was elegantly curved into the stereotypical shape.

      “Have you plucked his eyebrows?” his mother enquired. Ms. Ingram simply

      nodded with a satisfied smile. His hair had been pressed into tighter

      curls and his continuous wringing of his hands almost hid the fact that

      his nails were painted a scarlet to match his lipstick.



      Simon shuffled from one foot to the other in an attempt to ease the pain

      of the four-inch heels which he had on now for over six hours. “I’ll leave

      you two to chat”, Ms. Ingram said and left the room.



      His mother walked towards a chair and Simon followed. He felt the

      suspender straps tug gently on his stockings with every step. He was

      clearly mortified at the loud clicking of his heels on the wooden floor.

      He sat with great difficulty given his corset and his concern that the

      already straining suspenders would snap at the back.



      “What have you done to deserve this?” his mother asked. “Nothing, really!”

      he insisted. “They punish me for the slightest of things. If I even sigh

      or look displeased they tell me I will be punished for disobedience.”



      “Now, I’m sure that’s not true”, his mother countered. “It’s all for your

      own good you know. You must learn to behave properly.” “Please don’t leave

      me here any longer Mum”, he begged her. “I promise I’ll do whatever you

      say, just don’t leave me here.” “You’ll stay here until Ms. Ingram is

      satisfied with your progress”, she told him. He tried to sigh heavily but

      winced as the corset prevented him from doing even that.



      His mother stood and he did too. The front of his stockings had slackened

      as he sat and now the suspenders took up the strain. He looked down in

      concern that his stocking tops were probably showing at the front but he

      was too embarrassed to try to adjust them.



      His mother left the room and Ms. Ingram came back in. The last thing his

      mother heard was “pull up your stockings for goodness sake Simone”.



      On the Sunday Ms. Ingram insisted on bringing him to church. He was

      appalled. His only consolation so far was that he was able to stay within

      the confines of the building and grounds but now he was going to have to

      go out dressed as a girl in public!



      He wore the powder blue jacket and pleated skirt again, this time with

      white stockings attached to his corset and the four-inch heels. His legs

      still stung from the waxing. He also had the addition of white gloves, a

      white hat and a pretty blue purse.



      He was terrified stepping out of the car among the hundreds gathering

      outside the church. It became immediately obvious that it was very breezy.

      He had to keep one hand on his hat and tried to keep his skirt from

      blowing up with the other hand which was also clutching his purse.



      Ms. Ingram hurried towards the front door and he scampered after her

      squirming as he tried desperately to hold his outfit together in the wind.

      He overheard a woman say “she obviously didn’t check the weather today

      before choosing her outfit”.



      As they entered below the church steeple there was an extra strong gust of

      wind around the tall building. He felt the back of his skirt flap against

      the small of his back and there was little doubt that anyone standing

      behind him would have seen his stockings, suspender straps, lacey panties

      and probably the corset.



      Ms. Ingram strode right up the centre of the church to the front pew.

      Simon had to trot quickly to keep up in his high heels. The floor of the

      church was tiled and the loud clicking of his heels caused almost everyone

      to turn around and look.



      Simon went into the front row and sat down. He felt the cold wood of the

      pew on his bottom between his stockings and his panties. He fidgeted to

      try and brush his skirt under his bottom but there wasn’t enough skirt to

      go under him. Every time they stood for a hymn he tugged at the back of

      his skirt to ensure that the pleats weren’t sticking out or anything. He

      was sure that his stockings were slipping down with all the up and down

      movement but he couldn’t adjust them in front of everyone in the church so

      he just had to hope.

[BetBots]

Sorting out Simon - Week 3Sorting out Simon - Week 3
Username: DaraJaney, Sep/10/2005 17:59:49 [-04]

      The following week his mother sat sipping her tea wondering what Simon
      would be wearing this time. She heard the clicking of his heels before she
      saw him. He was now clad in a navy gymslip with a blue sash tied in a bow
      at his waist. The pleated skirt of the gymslip just about covered his
      stockings.

      “No improvement I’m afraid”, Ms. Ingram announced. “So this week Simone is
      going to attend our local grammar school to see how children behave
      properly. Simone! That sash is slack – do it up properly.” He hesitated
      momentarily before pulling the bow loose and retying his sash. As he did
      so the hem of his gymslip rode up slightly showing a few millimetres of
      stocking top. He tugged at the hem again but as soon as he stood straight
      the thin black line reappeared.

      “It is about ten years since the school insisted on the gymslip”, Ms.
      Ingram told them. “Many of the girls wear trousers now or long skirts with
      sweaters. Fortunately we had an old gymslip here. Since he’s only
      attending for a week there is no point in buying him a skirt specially. I
      dare say he’ll be very popular with all the boys at the school.” Simon
      looked at her in surprise. He obviously hadn’t realised until now that
      there would be boys at the school.

      It also transpired that he had to take a bus to the school. He was
      dismayed when he saw all the other kids waiting at the stop already. There
      were two girls in trousers and another in a skirt almost to her ankles.
      The four boys stopped their chatter when they saw Simon approach. He tried
      to ignore the tittering as he stood shuffling from one foot to the other,
      tugging at his hem every few seconds.

      When the bus came it created a gust but at least he had both hands free to
      clutch his gymslip. He wanted to let all the others go first because he
      didn’t like to think what view would be presented to anyone behind him as
      he went up the steps. Normally the boys would be all pushing to get on
      first but this time they allowed all the girls to go first. The girls
      smirked, fully aware of the boys’ motivation. The boys insisted that Simon
      go next. He had no choice but to go up the steps in front of them. He
      heard snorts of laughter behind him. He wished Ms. Ingram had allowed him
      to wear the plain navy panties instead of those white lace-trimmed ones.

      The girls had taken the last seats so Simon was going to have to stand. He
      went to reach for the overhead rail but realised that this would almost
      certainly reveal his stockings to everyone around. When the other boys got
      on behind him he had to move further down towards the back. They insisted
      on making him go right to the back which was completely populated by boys.

      When the bus lurched forward Simon almost toppled over and had no choice
      but to reach up for the rail. When he steadied himself he let go of the
      rail, tugged on his hem for the hundredth time and tried to hold on to the
      backs of the seats but he knew from the sniggering around him that he had
      given a good show.

      This torture continued all week culminating in the worst experience on
      Friday when they had their sports period. In the sports hall the boys
      trained at boxing while the girls played netball. Simon’s sports skirt was
      even shorter than his gymslip. Within a minute of the start of the game
      the sports teacher called him aside. “Do you not know that you are
      supposed to wear plain navy panties under your sports skirt?” she asked.
      Simon stood shame-faced with his head bowed, only too well aware that his
      white frilly panties would be seen by everyone as he ran up and down the
      gym, especially if he had to jump to catch the ball.

      The boxing teacher had great difficulty getting the boys to concentrate on
      their training as they gawked at poor Simon running up and down the
      netball court.

[BetBots]

Sorting out Simon - Week 4Sorting out Simon - Week 4

Username: DaraJaney, Sep/11/2005 15:39:16 [-04]



      Simon’s complaining to Ms. Ingram about being made to wear the white

      panties only led to his further downgrading. His mother was told that he

      was now going to have to go to the junior school. He appeared before her

      in a bottle green uniform. The very short pleated skirt buttoned at the

      side and had a bib with straps going over the shoulder and crossing at the

      back to be buttoned to the back of the skirt. He wore white knee high

      socks and black t-bar shoes. His hair had been straightened again and was

      tied up with ribbons on either side.



      “We will explain to the junior school that he is a particularly slow

      learner”, Ms. Ingram said. “He will be in a class of girls four years

      younger than him.”



      His socks were at full stretch to reach his knees and kept slipping down.

      Ms. Ingram repeatedly told him to pull them up again – a feat he could not

      achieve without bending sufficiently to give a glimpse of his white

      panties which had a pattern of pink hearts.



      The bus did not go by the junior school so they made him cycle. When he

      first sat up on the saddle he tried to get his skirt to go under his

      bottom but it was too short and hung down around the saddle.



      He had to pass the bus stop and the boys and girls there had a good laugh

      at his appearance in the junior school uniform. He was at least a foot

      taller than any of the children in his class and was made sit at the back

      or no one else would be able to see.



      The third time that his teacher made him come up to the blackboard to

      write something along the top of the board, he realised that this was

      clearly very deliberate. The children tittered as he reached up obviously

      causing his skirt to ride up.



      At break and lunch times the girls in the school yard insisted on

      including him in their games. If he tried to refuse it brought scowls of

      disapproval from the teachers so he thought it was wisest to give in. They

      wanted him to play skipping. His attempts to skip on his own were pathetic

      and a crowd of girls gathered around laughing at his hapless attempts to

      do what they could do with their eyes closed. So they insisted on swinging

      a long rope over him slowly while he jumped. The inevitable flashes of

      panties as he jumped brought more tittering and his futile attempts to

      keep his skirt down just made them laugh louder. They swung quicker and

      quicker and there was nothing he could do but keep jumping or risk

      breaking his neck.



      Some of the meaner girls were particularly nasty to him calling him a

      retard. He ended up pulling one girl’s pigtails in retaliation but this

      was reported back to Ms. Ingram.

[BetBots]

Sorting out Simon - Week 5Sorting out Simon - Week 5

Username: DaraJaney, Sep/12/2005 18:18:27 [-04]



      The next week his mother found him wearing a pink dress with frilly lace

      trimmings, puffed sleeves and a Peter Pan collar. It had a stiff net

      petticoat which flounced as he walked giving glimpses of matching panties

      with rows of lace across the seat. He wore white ankle socks with pink

      frothy lace around the tops and pink Mary Janes. His hair had been twisted

      tightly into pigtails on either side of his head and tied at the end with

      pink ribbons.



      That week they made him go to a kindergarten class. Everyone there was

      told that he was a sixteen-year old boy being punished. They had miniature

      plastic seats for the children and when he sat on one it meant that his

      knees were higher than his bottom pushing his net petticoats right up so

      that everyone could see his frilly panties no matter how he shuffled about

      trying to conceal them.



      None of the little girls in the kindergarten wore dresses or skirts but

      always came in shorts or jeans. He was mortified at being the most

      girlishly dressed - and he a sixteen year old boy among four year olds.

      They teased him constantly about his frilly dresses and panties and he was

      frequently taken out of the room in tears.



      Ms. Ingram led him by the hand to the school every morning which was three

      blocks away. They had to pass the bus stop and cross the main street on

      their way. People stopped and gawked at the sixteen year old in the little

      girl’s dress. He could only wonder whether they even knew he was a boy. He

      certainly didn’t look like one.



      Ms. Ingram had to drag him along. Pulling his petticoats up and slapping

      him on his frilly panties within sight of the bus stop usually had the

      desired effect.



      Each afternoon she was always the last to arrive and he had to endure the

      smirks and comments from all the parents collecting their children. He was

      often in the middle of a large circle of mothers sniggering and exchanging

      caustic remarks about his latest frock. He got particularly mad if anyone

      suggested that he really enjoyed wearing such sissy dresses and stamped

      his foot or crossed his arms firmly in disgust but this only amused them

      even more and he eventually realised that they were deliberately trying to

      provoke a reaction from him.



      The ladies who ran the kindergarten weren’t much better. They were as

      amused as everyone else at his appearance each day in a pretty dress,

      always with elaborate matching panties, and they seemed to conspire to

      find ways to make him expose his frilly bottom. Since he was, of course,

      much taller than the other children they were often asking him to reach up

      for things off high shelves and he knew this would be followed by much

      sniggering as he exposed his underwear yet again.



      They insisted that he play all the most childish games with the other

      children. At first he took part half-heartedly not wishing anyone to think

      that he was in any way enjoying this experience. But he found that when he

      lost a game they all found it highly amusing that he was being beaten by

      four-year-olds. But then if he took the game seriously that only amused

      them even more to see him earnestly trying to beat the little children.

      Either way he always ended up completely humiliated.

[BetBots]

Sorting out Simon - Week 6Sorting out Simon - Week 6
Username: DaraJaney, Sep/13/2005 18:16:40 [-04]

      As he suspected, his reluctance to go to the kindergarten earned him a
      further demotion. He wondered how much more this could go on. The next
      week he was coaxed along the street in a lemon dress which flared at
      breast level and fell at least an inch short of covering his matching
      panties which had a broderie anglaise trim around the legs and were pulled
      up over white tights. He was made to carry a large doll which had a
      matching lemon outfit. But the doll’s dress flared at waist level and went
      down to her ankles. It was much less babyish than his dress. Passing the
      bus stop the school kids laughed that the doll looked more grown up than
      Simon did. “Simon is the doll’s little baba”, someone shouted.

      At the kindergarten he was put in with kids who were just out of nappies.
      How they laughed at the sixteen year old boy in the toddler dress. All day
      he tugged pointlessly at the hem of his dress but there was nothing he
      could do to stop everyone seeing his beautifully trimmed panties.

      He was made to play the children’s stupid games and recite nursery rhymes.
      Of course he had long forgotten the childish rhymes and it amused the
      other kids greatly when got them wrong. They loved showing him up by
      flawlessly reciting the rhyme that he had failed to recall.

      On Thursday he was told that if he didn’t recite the alphabet rhyme
      flawlessly he would be expelled from the kindergarten. “All of the other
      children here know it perfectly”, he was told, “except you!” He got as far
      as R before he hesitated and all was lost. The other children all tittered
      and he wondered what would happen to him next.

      Half way through the week Ms. Ingram came early to collect him. The lady
      in charge of the kindergarten told him in front of the whole group that he
      was definitely the worst at remembering rhymes. She told Ms. Ingram that
      he just wasn’t good enough for the group and that there was no point in
      bringing him back.

      Simon was relieved at not having to return to the kindergarten but
      wondered what other fate would befall him now.

[BetBots]

Sorting out SimonSorting out Simon

Username: DaraJaney, Sep/16/2005 07:26:43 [-04]



      That Saturday he had to be dragged in to the room where his mother took

      her customary cup of tea. She froze with the cup half way to her mouth

      when she saw him. He was wearing a pink gingham dress which had a teddy

      bear on the bodice and a pattern of nursery rhyme characters around the

      hem. His head was bowed and she could not see his face for the thick lace

      trim on his pink bonnet. But what really shocked her was the unmistakable

      bulge of a thick nappy underneath his pink gingham bloomers.



      “My goodness. He’s wearing a nappy!” Simon was further crushed by this

      confirmation of what he suspected - that anyone could see at a glance that

      he was in wearing a nappy.



      Ms. Ingram made him lift his head and his mother then saw the large pink

      soother in his mouth. Tears were streaming down his face. She led him

      across the room. The thick nappy forced his legs apart causing him to

      waddle across.



      As he stood tearfully in front of his mother Ms. Ingram lifted his

      petticoats which must have had several layers. She pulled down his

      bloomers. He would have tried to stop her but he could not reach around

      his huge petticoats anyway.



      “We have put him in a cloth nappy”, Ms. Ingram showed his mother. “The

      plastic panties are elasticated at the legs and waist so that they keep

      everything in perfectly.” His mother could see the pink tipped nappy pins

      through the clear plastic panties.



      “You mean … you make him use them?” his mother asked tentatively. “Of

      course!” Ms. Ingram relied. “He has been in the nappies two days now so he

      has wet himself several times and soiled himself too.” Simon lowered his

      head again and was now bawling.



      “We brought him down to the kindergarten yesterday so that he could say

      goodbye to his little friends and we showed them that he was in nappies

      now and would not be able to come to kindergarten again for some time.”

      The memory of standing in the middle of all those little children with

      their scornful looks at this teenage boy who had to wear nappies and baby

      dresses only made him more upset.



      “I must show you his new room”, Ms. Ingram said. Simon waddled along

      beside the women and Ms. Ingram opened a door along the hallway. Inside

      was a nursery all decorated in pinks and yellows. Simon looked ruefully

      around the room at his new cot, play pen and high-chair.



      “Come along now Simone, it’s just time for your bottle”, Ms. Ingram told

      him. Simon walked reluctantly towards the high-chair. Ms. Ingram swung

      back the tray and he sat up. She strapped him in and swung the tray back

      in front of him. She took a bottle that had been in a container of warm

      water and held it towards his mother. “Would you like to do the honours?”



      Simon glared at his mother hoping that she would refuse. She went to take

      his soother out. He held it between his teeth in protest at her intention

      to bottle-feeding him. She knew well what he was doing but said “it’s

      alright dear you can have your dummy back when you’ve finished your

      bottle.” He was crushed at this mother’s complicity and let her take out

      the dummy. She popped the teat of the bottle in and he began suc-king. She

      was highly amused that she had to burp him after his bottle.