Nick would have preferred to keep a low profile but the programme turned out to be very popular and his weekly flash of bloomers was becoming a household hit.
It didn’t make him too popular at the school though with the “other” girls. Their clothes were laundered and delivered to their rooms each week. One morning when he opened the drawer he found that his stack of panties comprised only very frilly ones. It was too late to do anything about it as they were due at breakfast in two minutes.
He had developed the habit of wearing his panties over his tights to stop them from slipping down. He had no choice but to wear the frilly panties. All morning he was very conscious of them and he constantly tugged at the back of his gymslip to make sure that nothing was showing.
At break time he went out for some fresh air. As he was walking down the steps, he was nudged in the back. He fell forward onto the gravel. His gymslip flew up at the back revealing his frilly panties to all around. They roared laughing, at life imitating art.
Eventually they reached the end of the series. Nick had become used by now to having his frilly undies exposed to all and sundry – he was getting well paid for it after all. He was so relieved to get home and savoured every moment as he pulled on his first pair of trousers in three months.
The programme continued to get critical acclaim and was nominated for a TV award at the end of the year. In fact, Nick was also nominated for “Best Newcomer Actress”, much to the annoyance of the girl who played Molly.
His mother had managed to avoid him getting his hair cut for a long-time just in case. She was delighted that the awards ceremony was going to give her a chance to dress him up.
She made him get permed curls and took great care over his make-up – bright red lipstick, pink eye-shadow, plucked eye-brows etc.
She insisted that he had to wear a corset to give him a good shape. Then she pulled sheer tan stockings up his legs and attached them to straps on his corset.
His four-inch heels were much higher than he was used to and he had to practice a lot, walking up and down in just his corset, panties and stockings.
Then she produced his dark green coc-ktail dress. Its skirt was flared heavily with layers of netting. He begged her to let him wear something more conservative but she zipped him in. He had to practice sitting several times in order to figure out how to stop the netting from sticking up at severe angles and revealing his stocking tops or worse.
Eventually he tottered out of the house. He kept brushing his skirts down every few seconds, convinced that everything must be on show. He felt so exposed in the short flared dress and flimsy stockings.
He should have been better prepared for the banks of photographers outside the auditorium. He clutched at his skirts desperately in the back of the car when he saw them.
He was practically shaking when he stepped out of the car in his high heels. He firmly pushed his skirts down yet again. Cameras flashed. He wanted to get up the red carpet as quickly as possible but his mother had a firm grasp of his arm and made him stop and turn to the cameras every few steps. He desperately tried to smile for the cameras but he was terrified.
He was so relieved when he finally got to the table and sat, brushing the netting under his bottom. He shifted uneasily, both from nervousness and because the netting was scraping his skin between his stockings and his panties.
He was praying not to win as they ran through the clips for the nominees. Needless to say, his clip involved one of the 22 scenes in which his frilly panties were exposed.
When his name was called out as the winner there was more desperate pushing down of skirts. It was the longest walk of his life. The high heels were hurting now and the corset was biting into his back. He felt every stretch of his stockings.
He scampered up the steps to the stage. Mumbled some thanks while the orchestra was still playing and headed back to his table. At the top of the steps, he shuddered to a halt and descended ultra-carefully. For once in his public life, he would manage to get away without falling over and showing his panties.
He continued down the steps. Then he realised that his net skirts were flouncing as he descended. People in the front row were smirking. He pushed his skirts down and held them firmly all the way back.
Afterwards he was required to take questions from the press. He stood at the podium nervously while cameras flashed again. The reporters vied for his attention. “Nicky!” “Nicky!”
Then one shouted “Nick!” Nick eyed him nervously. All the others stopped. “Nick. How did you get this part given that you’re a boy?”
Nick froze. There was a shocked silence. All of the reporters turned from the questioner to Nick.
As if he hadn’t been ultra-conscious enough already of his hair in tight curls, his lipstick, corset, stockings and high heels, he was just completely dumbfounded now. His mother rushed forward. “Come along dear.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door. He scampered along in his heels trying to keep up with great difficulty. He could hear people gasp “is it true?” His skirts fluttered freely. His concerns were far greater now than giving a flash of his stocking tops.
The rumour shot along the line of cameramen outside and he was practically blinded by the flashes as they sought a car to take him away. He had to wait there for what seemed like an eternity for a car to come. He heard all the gasps from people who were told that he was a boy. He cringed in his short coc-ktail dress as hundreds of people looked on, shifting from one painful high-heeled shoe to the other until a limo whisked him away.
Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Topic: Nick's Big Break (Read 23531 times)
